My Journey

Joy, bliss, and studious-ness.

2008-05-06T18:44:00.003-04:00

Honestly, I didn't realize life could get this busy, to the point that the INTERNET, a college student's best friend/worst enemy, could honestly go to the back burner. Sorry to ignore you dear friend, but the poor, soul-sucking lighting of the library has been my new "love". However, a busy life is good because I can fill you in on lots of news goodies so we can start getting intimate. Once classes are over, I swear, this will be a good place to be.

Okay, so the best news is, I got an internship I really wanted for this summer at a firm, which I somehow managed amidst the craziness of this semester - and it's in New York City.

THE City. As if this isn't enough, it's working directly under someone I admire and respect to no end. Going on the interview was pretty nerve-wracking, but I somehow made it through (I think really important people can smell the mixture of excitement/fear from the young from a mile away). It will involve me walking a mile and half in the HEAT of the summer across the city and I'm just totally stoked.

Pitfalls of this situation are, I'll be beginning something new, which means that inevitable period of "I don't really know what I'm doing...". Which means a sense of humor will be critical.

OH my gosh! The Senior Ball! I didn't tell you dear blog (and thank you for the comments by the way!), but it went smashingly. SMASHING. To put it mildly, it's made up for every moment of just...wanting a formal event I could dress up for and feel GOOD about myself in every sense of the word. I got my hair done with my friend with this hairdresser located in the middle of nowhere - and she had QUITE the personality so we were doing girl-talk the entire time. I got ready together with my group of friends, the dance lasted until 1 am, and then we recouped the next day in our PJs and watching movies. Very good weekend.

And let me tell you, I CAN DANCE. I have not danced since dropping all the weight - and learning the physics of movement/balance is pretty fun to music - and I didn't get tired! Even in heels. (Fun fact: Techno music with its crazy beats is quite challenging to dance to in a flattering manner. I kept snickering about how if you turned off the blaring music in the room, and just saw a bunch of people "dancing" the way we were, it would look like some alien tribal society. )

Ok. Back to work. I've seen daylight I think 5 times in the past month. And I hear the weather is beautiful. I feel like it'll start snowing again any day now, just for the universe to mock my hard working-ness - and the fact Massachusetts weather is ridiculously unpredictable!

Dresses are pretty amazing.

2008-04-12T20:02:00.020-04:00

I needed 24 hours to even process what I'm about to post- it's pretty exciting (in the "I can and can't believe it, finally...." way).

I went to prom in highschool, twice - Junior and Senior year. Both years I needed my dress to be specially handmade, waiting 4-6 weeks, in sizes 28 and 30. I wore black and burgundy, and was very happy and excited to go to prom with a very good friend both years. However, I was always kind of...wistful about the fact I never got to "try on" dresses, I just had to pray that what came in the mail was good enough, because of my size.

Last week I was invited to Senior Ball at my college - basically a seniors-only "before graduation hurrah" party, where seniors invite an underclassmen as their date so all can gather and be merry. So when I was asked, I was immediately elated, and then...slightly panicked. Where the heck do I get a dress? Walk in a store and buy one? Me? My mother and I immediately got online to see where we could get dresses - we only have like 2 weeks until April 25th, the night of the dance. Neither of us honestly even thought "gee, I could maybe walk in a store and buy one this time."

Yesterday we went. And in one day, I got a TWO dresses (size 14!!!), a pair of shoes (NORMAL WIDTH!), a handbag, a cute cropped dress coat (SIZE LARGE!), and some great jewelry. It was probably the best day I've had in a dressing room with dresses since I don't even know when. The best was my Mom and I picking out the same dress in both sizes 16 and 14...she left the room, I grabbed the first one, and she came back, noted how perfectly it fit, and went to take the 14 backs to the rack....EXCEPT I WAS WEARING THE 14 and the 16 was still hanging.

Be warned - bare shoulders and lower calves are exposed! ;) Woo hoo!

PROM about 3 years ago:

Now, for photos.

First dress is the semi-formal fun dress - it's got a nice neckline and some beading.

The second is the va-va voom "little black dress" that I've never ever owned before - and every gal needs one, right? Right.

For what it's worth, I'm assuredly freaking out my parents with the weight loss comparisons AND the fact that I look so much more mature. I've been growing up, as my newly-revealed bone structure has demonstrated - and am turning 21 in a month. :)

Can't wait to make my dressy debut at the ball...

A whole new fear of vegetables.

2008-04-08T10:01:00.000-04:00

I like to pretend I’m a reasonably clean, classy young lady; my room smells like flowers, sunshine, and scented body sprays. But it’s hard to ignore a funky smell in your fridge when it starts interfering with the smell of your small dorm room (oh, and you sleep about 4 feet away from it).

I’ve noticed every time I open and close my fridge’s door nowadays I get this awkward whiff of vegetables smells. It became the definite scent of “peppers” on last Thursday, 9pm. Now it’s “the peppers are dying”, and if I don’t save them (or me) now, tomorrow it will be “the peppers are in the dark stage of afterlife where no one can save you from the stench now nesting in the plastic fridge liner”.

This all stems from the fact I got super excited last Sunday that I can do thorough grocery shopping now instead of mini-trips to the deli for my meal food; I’m keeping my car at school (giving me the sweet smell of freedom while in rural Massachusetts)…and the Whole Foods 20 minutes away is now a delightful, wholesome pleasure for fresh vegetables to cook with/eat raw.

I bought a lot of pre-cut up vegetables, a bunch of hummus, and I thought I was golden. Until, smelly situations like this happen, because I’ve been eating at the dining halls more often this week and their salad areas. The raw sliced peppers, along with broccoli and some salad mix, have populated the bottom drawer of my tiny fridge for over a week, and I keep forgetting to eat them.

I kind of don’t want to look at what's in there...

(5 minutes later, after cleaning up soggy strips of pepper tainted with the sickeningly ripe smell of defeat)

Liquid peppers have horror-movie potential. That is all.

Now off to class, then to help a friend set up for her dorm's party tonight ( a lowly, busy-work task), just to let this place air out for the day. Maybe Whole Foods and I should break-up and start seeing other people, until I can be more considerate...and eat my darn expensive vegetables.

Legs, legs, legs.

2008-04-04T16:29:00.005-04:00

The weather is really wacky around here; one day it’s sunny, the next day it’s snowing, and today it’s raining in a sad, cold way. Despite this, I’ve been walking around downtown all morning, on a mission to get cheesecloth and/or muslin to make a sort of papier-mâché-out-of-cloth sculpture. I finally brought my car to school a week ago, but somehow the idea of searching on foot in the cold wet afternoon, instead of driving to a known store, seemed wise.

In the past three hours I’ve gotten splashed, sloshed, and soaked from the ankles up, from giant puddles and fast cars alike. But on the quest for fabric, I’ve walked so much that I’m actually excited I could do so for once– A year ago, it wasn’t even feasible that my legs could be massively efficient tools to see the world, or search the farthest dark side street for a fabric shop.

I finally found my cloth, in a gourmet kitchen store – where I met the funniest woman in the world who force-guided me towards the bundt cake pans (this week’s special - they have roughly 17 new models ranging from carousels to cathedrals, if you were interested) despite my desperate insistence that cheesecloth was my sole intent. I then bought so much cheesecloth that I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an aggressive dairy farmer as opposed to a strange Sculpture student.

I’m going to a friend’s dorm party tonight; it’s “Spring Weekend” so we all go to each other’s dormitories for socializing (wearing cute outfits of course), dance to… bad dance music, and hear our friends’ singing groups perform, all while we lament over cheese platters how we should be doing our work. Sometimes I realize how different my college experience is while being at women’s college; and now I think it’s great that if the party’s lame I will not hesitate to walk out of there, no matter what the distance home is!

Why Mustard is my Favorite Condiment.

2008-02-25T18:13:00.006-05:00

I've had a crazy busy day - and I ended up being locked out of both the Sculpture studio and the computer lab for the night. Figures. I'm exhausted, I finally just headed to the dining hall to grab dinner - and now I sit in my room, thinking about my food. It's funny how seeing a bunch of people in a dining hall, 20-somethings and all, just initially makes my skin slightly crawl, flashing back to the grade school cafeteria.

I guess sometimes I forget my own short story - honestly, I now love living in the present, and don't often go back too much in thoughts. But, I can't help the few, and what felt to be VERY long years that took me to get here. I mean, I'm someone who's lived with and through childhood obesity, and I recently entered adulthood (as if age in numbers means anything), so remembering the last, and only, 20 years of my life isn't too hard to do.

I don't have stories about being discriminated for jobs because of my weight, despite having qualified - but I know I never applied for summer jobs at fast food joints or waitressing like the other girls in my highschool. I just couldn't do it; physically or emotionally, humiliate myself like that with not being able to keep up with a busy job- because of my size. And as much as I'm ridiculously mature and I feel even wiser than most of my peers...the experience I have with my weight comes from growing up with it - and being made fun of by verrry ignorant people: a.k.a. kids.

So back to my dinner-inspired memory. You know, there's only one real cafeteria situation I remember being horrific when I was growing up. I had just gotten off the lunch line, and I was 12 - my best friend was a tiny (I think I considered everyone tiny - it just always seems the first word to come to mind when I think of myself in comparison to others) quiet girl who was pretty much loyal to the end, I guess. But what we both didn't know was, right before I sat down at our lunch table, someone slipped a mustard packet onto the seat of my chair.

I sat down, no idea what had happened. Ate my lunch. Got up to leave the cafeteria - and somehow I knew there was a ring of kids surrounding me whispering, then laughing, and I was alone in the center of it, best friend nowhere to be found. My too-tight pants with a big yellow mustard stain. I swear to this day that was one of the defining moments in my life - when I realized how demeaned I could be by stupid kids, but also, how much better than them I could be - and to this day, I remember that moment of complete helplessness and sadness, and it keeps me in touch with reality, and my past.

That's all we are every day, a person resulting of the experiences of the day before, and the day before that...I'm that chubby girl who got mustard on her pants and today I can run across the street in a hurry and help a woman, slipping with her cane, navigate through icy paths while other people bustle by. Sure, I've been made fun of for my weight, and bitterness could be an option - but it's made me a more widely considerate person, I think. And kids are silly and do things they don't even understand.

So in a way, strangely enough...I'm sort of grateful for certain things I have learned, growing up morbidly obese. It's made me so aware and compassionate towards other beings on the planet - and though it was through my own struggles with weight, it's kind of cool to know I can head through the rest of my life understanding and feeling empathy.

I also can't help the fact that the girls who put the mustard packet on my seat are still waitressing in my old hometown. But that's perfectly fine; I will be compassionate and tip them well, as I do any server, next time I see them, and they won't even recognize me.

The Sweater Conundrum

2008-02-22T12:31:00.005-05:00

This is my first non-morbidly obese winter, I just realized. Wow.

When I was a kid, sledding was amazing. My old house when I was growing up had this great hill on the side of it, perfect angle for sledding. And then we'd go inside, get a great big cup of hot cocoa stirred up, and I would hang up my 2-3 pairs of pants I'd worn outside, to dry. It was always hard to find snowpants (the childrens department and I went our separate ways at, let's see...6 years old) that fit when I was growing up, so I often just wore layers upon layers of pants, which would get soaked with wet snow from hours of play. I never felt the cold though - I had a nice, warm comfy layer of insulation under my skin at all times. Ah, fat.

I've decided to venture out into the snow today to mail a mail-in-rebate (they never expect you to send it in, but I'm willing to brave the elements for that lovely check) and I'm at a loss of how to layer. I've now got piles of sweaters, knits, scarves, socks, throw blankets and hoodies littering my dorm room. I need and use them often. But I never used to wear - or own- this layering stuff. I never had to layer or think "oh, I'm cold now, I hope I have enough to keep me that way!". I actually think I walked into school sometimes without a jacket at all during the dead of winter, no problem (but I left the house with one, love you Mom!). I really never felt the cold; in fact, I was always warm. Always overheated somehow, red in the cheeks, and everything was an exertion.

I can't believe the extremes from last year to this year even - my old puffy winter coat that I had, size 30/32, I shrunk out of very fast, and I now wear a smooth ski jacket in Large (oh, it fits so nice). Plus, I always thought sweaters made me look to bulky or bigger than I was. Now I know they don't - and clothing is now functional beyond covering me. It keeps my body warm. Absolutely amazing. I'm totally having some sugar-free hot cocoa when I get back to my room.

Snowy Morning...

2008-02-22T10:00:00.000-05:00

It's snowing outside - and it's completely silent outside as the flakes hit the ground. I don't have any Friday classes, which I'm grateful for, but instead of sleeping in, I've taken to getting up a little earlier on my days off. This way I can enjoy exercise as sort of a therapy - I make it my own morning routine of listening to whatever music I want, and daydreaming (and not studying gene mutations for my lecture). I love to go to the gym, shower, and sit and read with some peppermint tea afterwards. Today, I'll get to do it with the snow falling as a backdrop.

Then I have to run to the art building and work on my sculpture (it's crunch time, and due Wednesday, I think). It's an abstract, metal sculpture of a toilet's water, caught in the vortex of flushing (with silver wire twisted into the "streams" of water). I'm sure this entry seemed like a normal person's life until I said that, right? Oh well, now I've got your mind thinking of what I could possibly be doing. I will show you when complete.

I've gotten handy with the welding torch - yesterday, I was crouched under the table, on my knees, building the base speedily, and jumping up and down as soon as the metal cooled. I would NOT have been capable of this contortioning last year, and it's good that I am, if just for safety reasons.

I think I'm meeting up with an old friend for dinner - we haven't talked for awhile, and it'll be good to catch up. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to wait around for people to call me and make plans, so I've been more proactive in that respect - you've just got to do what you want to do, see who you want to see, and be the one to make it happen. The secret to happiness!

Just finished tying my shoes. The gym awaits. Hope your morning is as healthfully selfish and wonderful as mine. :)

It's the little things.

2008-02-19T12:27:00.006-05:00

I spend my mornings in the shower, determining what is “blog-worthy” of my life post-surgery as of late. I’ve noticed that as time has passed, it’s harder and stranger to isolate moments of “big changes” with my weight loss to share with the world… because every day is full of things I’ve never done before.

What’s happening to me now daily is called Life, and I'm finally participating in it. It's that nebulous, glittering, grimy bundle of experiences I had this surgery for. Sure, my pants fit great now and I can fit in booths – but every day now, I do something that people who’ve never been morbidly obese wouldn’t really “get” as a big deal, all because I am no longer so physically limited.

One afternoon last weekend, I was studying downtown at a coffee shop, and as the hour grew late, I realized that I wanted to get some dinner – but the dining hall had only pizza. And I said “Self, there is a great restaurant downtown that is known for its healthy and trans-fat free food. You should go.” And a part of me freaked out because hey, who goes into a restaurant alone? All these thoughts went through my head – I was always afraid to be seen eating alone when I was so overweight. And if I ever considered the idea, I’d have to navigate my way to a small table, with small chairs, and pull my chair all the way in and hope I wasn’t interfering in people’s space.

I’ve come to realize how morbid obesity can be so isolating – and self-segregating. I told myself these things that were true, and I was held back from doing something as simple as eating in public. So, in a moment of confidence, I treated myself to a delightful dinner and made conversation with the waiter (who was cute, in case you were wondering…!). I sat IN a chair, not merely balancing on it. I didn't affect anyone's space...and I actually enjoyed myself. I ordered some steamed chicken and veggies, brought the leftovers home to my friends, and that was that. This one night was TIME to me, time I’d previously missed of doing something simple like enjoying a meal, without worrying. Time I would have missed if I hadn’t made certain choices a year ago to change my body for the better. I’ve physically lost weight, but I’ve also gained a lot of confidence and opportunity in its place.

And in case you ever thought my life sounded too good to be true, I slipped on a sheet of ice coming out of my dorm yesterday. Yes, even happy gastric bypass patients slip on the ice sometimes, haha. But here’s what I can tell you for a fact. I got up off the ice with the ease of someone 150 pounds lighter, and when I turned to see where I’d fallen, there was an outline of my butt – and let me tell you, it was SMALL. And I was shocked because it was not what I expected to see.

But I now have a small(er) butt! Ok, this is still all relative to past size references, but even my friend commented on it as well. I guess it’s become a glass-half-full sort of deal – yes my butt was cold and sore, but hey now- I’ve felt worse things than success from looking at an impression of myself in cracked ice. ;)

The Aftermath of Valentine's Day

2008-02-15T19:30:00.007-05:00

I guess I wanted a few days to reflect on the Lonely Single Girls Holiday, I mean, Valentine's Day. I spent most of the day working diligently in the art studio ( I don't need no stinkin' man to be cool, I have a blowtorch) and then had dinner with friends for the evening. Very low key, quiet, almost an average day.

But yesterday, in the wake of the bloodbath that is holiday candy, decorations and fluff, I went grocery shopping. Everything Valentine's related is 50% off... which is pretty entertaining to see when you know full well how many silly people rushed out on the 14th paying full price. Yikes. Anyway, I stocked up on 4 boxes of cake mix, 8 cans of frosting, and frilly sprinkly-type decorations for cupcakes - all at the low, low prices of a post-candy-war consumer sale. Beautiful.

I bought all this stuff because I'm baking 96 cupcakes for a "study break" snack Sunday night for all the girls in my entire dormitory. It's always some sort of warm baked goods. I volunteered to host a study break event last semester, but never got around to it, so I figured why not, I'll host a Decorate Your Own Cupcake night this semester. I'll bake and be surrounded by sugar and not be tempted.

It's funny how I could pile all this junk in my shopping cart, and not feel one ounce of sadness or loss or temptation. It's stuff in a box, you know? Sure, it's around Valentine's Day, but I won't eat this stuff on a normal day, let alone think that buying it around a holiday makes it any more special/worthy.

I picked up some of my own well-needed supplies; a few protein bars, low sugar yogurt, string cheese, fiber crackers...stuff that supplements what real meals I either cook for myself or get at the dining hall. If I had any feelings towards the junk food I bought, it's that I made sure I bought everything that was on sale because it's mostly unworthy of my (or anyone's) money. I'm sure it's all good for something, you know; if there's a nuclear fallout, I know my dormmates will be building a shelter out of the Funfetti cupcakes' frosting, laden with hydrogenated oils. The structure will endure, perfectly preserved, for centuries...

In years past, I was in my bedroom eating an entire box of chocolates on Valentine's Day (and sometimes they were sugar-free, though an entire box of anything - no good!). I don't even remember what I did last year, a month before my surgery - but now, I get to WALK a half mile from a parking garage on a crisp afternoon, carrying grocery bags of baking supplies, and not feel winded. I'll stay up late tonight and bake the copious amounts of cupcakes, just to make others happy with some surprise baked goods on a mundane Sunday study night. And then it'll be back to just another crazy week of work.

The Insanity of Turnstiles

2008-02-15T18:50:00.005-05:00

A turnstile is a "pedestrian gate". For some reason beyond my understanding, someone invented this device that assumes a standard human size, and makes it into a wheel-type regulator machine that you can never easily exit or enter through no matter WHAT. Oh, and if you get through ths torture device, and try to leave the way you came in, or change your mind...nope. Keep going. There's no turning back now. You're IN. (Here are some if you ever get the urge to install one in your own home; in the doorway of your bathroom, for instance)

Many times, it took a while to get through these things; at 350 pounds there's no delicate way of manipulating your own body over/around/under an unbending metal bar...with people waiting behind you. I'd have to edge in sideways, moving my body painfully in the slot. In subway stations... just try keeping up with the flow of human traffic (angry New Yorkers, no less) while you visually assess: Am I going to get stuck? Can I discreetly get through sideways, at a dead run, greased from head to toe? You just never know. But today, I faced a new version of my old foe: The Turnstile at the Campus Center.

Recently installed, it's supposed to prevent people from stealing food and walking out without paying. To me, it provided a sweaty upper lip and one more reason to hesitate in getting a cup of coffee. I sort of stood weirdly nearby, debating on whether or not to try it, remembering how I used to get stuck. Then, I just went for it, being the risk-taker that I am. And for the first time in my life, I walked through one of these demon-beasts looking straight ahead, and FACING FORWARD. IT clicked loudly and I was DONE.

When I got to the other side, it smelled of the same burned coffee I always remembered. I tried to back up and leave ($3.00 for a cup of burned coffee? Are they insane?) but OH NO NO! Mr. Turnstile chuckled at me as we both realized that noone, noone at all, can make it past him, in the opposite direction. But I consider my adventure both a loss and a victory, because I ended up getting the coffee...and walking through ANOTHER turnstile to escape. I am unstoppable!

"Old Friend, Meet New Tummy"

2008-02-13T06:03:00.016-05:00

I've only had one roommate while at college. I now live in a single room (right next to hers - fate, obviously). We were paired together my first year, then we chose to room together a second year, as sort of the oddest couple the world had ever seen - me, the loud, funny, and self-proclaimed "gentle giant", and her, a tiny, quiet Korean girl with bright brown eyes and a hesitant smile.

To give a sense of our relationship, I'll start with the moment when we first met - I opted to spend my very first night at school sleeping in the hotel with my parents, instead of waiting alone in my room for this new roommate to arrive. She was already there when I walked back in the room the next morning at 7am. I saw her and enthusiastically asked, "Are you my roommate?" When she nodded, I yelled "HELLO!", and with no delay, hugged and picked her up and swung her around, feet off the floor. I think she squealed (probably out of fear...no, most definetly out of fear).

I didn't stop talking to her for about two hours straight, while she barely nodded, but kept smiling. It took about a week to get her to not be afraid of her overly-friendly and physically large American roommate, and when she did finally speak, she explained we had the same sort of friendly personality, despite our "different" way of showing it. Over the course of two years in living together, we became good friends.

I bring this all up because Monday night, we ate dinner together. Since I had been gone for a semester, she didn't know I had surgery, but saw I'd lost a lot of weight, and she wanted us to have dinner together, for old time's sake. Her mom had sent us some specialty fish cakes and rice cakes from Korea to cook. I love to cook, and knowing she can't cook AT ALL - I'd help her make the dinner, but knew I'd be responsible for my own pouch-friendly food when we sat down to eat.

Strangely, she suggested we get some food from the dining hall to supplement the bag of her Mom's food. We started to walk to the dining hall and I asked "Why are we going?", thinking my god, she somehow knows I need my own food, how sweet - and her hesitant response was to look down at the ground, scuffing her feet and holding the food bag..."There's not alot, and I want you to have enough"

...which in her words means…"Christine, you always eat A LOT and you know this - and this is my Mom's special food!"

I stopped walking and just laughed so hard, in the middle of a parking lot, from looking at this tiny girl's face and her slight fear of being deprived her mother's rare Korean food - all because of her memory of my once ravenous appetite. But she still genuinely wants to share it and spend time with me, because of our friendship - and I loved her for it. I put my arm around her shoulder and explained while we walked, that I have a new inside system that makes my stomach tiny and I can't eat a lot. Her eyes got big as saucers as she listened quietly, and she patted, then held my hand as we walked when I told her loosely about the entire surgery process.

I now know I can make the *cutest* hand puppet gestures to simply explain my body's new configuration, complete with voices of the organs talking to each other. A woman of few words, she then clapped her hands happily when I told her I was planning on eating my own food for dinner and not to worry. Somehow, I think she knew she was making out with the deal of a lifetime: I would cook for her the food that makes her happy, and in turn, we'd spend time together. I'm not sure if she really "gets" bariatric surgery, but she "gets" me - and we're going to hang out some more this weekend. With my tiny tummy.

Finally, Some Pants!

2008-02-10T11:58:00.000-05:00

Women's pants sizes are completely inconsistent from store to store - and for that reason alone, I haven't walked into any store and tried on pants except Lane Bryant or Avenue. I am very familiar with (and once grew out of) EVERY size of theirs.

But when I out-shrank their largest sizes a few months ago, and headed towards the "middle zone" of not-quite-plus-size-but-not-small-at-all, I stopped going to LB and Avenue. But I didn't walk into regular misses' stores or departments either - except for tops.

I've been borrowing alot of old clothing of relatives and whatnot, sort of afraid to go into a store, try on a couple of sizes, and find out I am NOT what I thought.

I went into Target yesterday and decided it was time to atleast try - I'd brought the necessary girlfriend shopping companion who'd be willing to tell me if they looked horrible or not...and to shriek with me when they looked GREAT!

I brought the 14s, 16s, and 18s of jeans into the dressing room. I was sweating bullets. The 14s GOT ON...but I am saving those for later. The 16s fit like a glove. The 18s were way too big in the waistband.

This...this is AWESOME. I bought pants off the rack.

I think I will name this pair of pants - Francesco. And wear him until he can be worn no longer.

HELLO PANTS!

Don't Try This at Home.

2008-02-09T09:35:00.000-05:00

I have to make trip to the hardware store today and find sheets of metal and pick out coils of wire to do my first welding project. Welding is pretty fun from the demos we've done - all the tools have massive warning labels, so you try to do the coolest project you can so it's worth the risk.

We have this tool call a plasma gun, which can produce a beam of particles that's like concentrating lightning into a power source- think "blade of fire". It cuts the metal by instantly turning it to liquid wherever you point the fine tip. You should only see the giddy delight in the eyes of my professor as he teaches us how to use these terribly macho tools.

I snuck into the studio this morning to get some photos of what I'm working with lately - but I only got photos of clay sculpture from last semester, and most of it is in a storage locker and fragile etc. But for the sake of the internet, I did my best.

Left: A (hollow) bat . I made an original, then made a mold of it, and poured it full of liquid clay....and I can make multiples! My professor proposed the idea of making a hundred of so of the bats, to hang upside down from a ceiling, making a "bat cave". Not sure if I'm that committed to installation art, but it's a really interesting idea.

Right: Another bat from the same mold, but the assignment was to alter the surface quality to emphasize detail...so I used the innovative technique of fine sparkly powder (known as "eyeshadow"). It turned out quite creepy looking. Never be afraid to be creative.

Below: Life-size "Bust" of my head. This was our final - and hardest - project, and one of the most disconcerting things I've ever done. But I learned SO much from struggling through it. It's resting and drying slowly (takes months because drying fast = bad cracks) which is why it's surrounded by other disembodied heads of my classmates.

Below: And in case you haven't noticed my dry (often dark) sense of humor, I opened my storage locker and noticed how the model of my hand I did was emerging from the scrap plaster castings - and had to take a picture.

(I actually do have a pinkie finger in real life - but in this version of me, it broke off.)

Spice Up Your Life

2008-02-07T14:36:00.000-05:00

With my admittedly short amount of years lived, there's only a few occasions where I can appropriately use the phrase "I went back in time, and did what I would have done 10 years ago". Because 10 years ago, I was TEN YEARS OLD.

I went to a Spice Girls concert last night - one of their sold-out 10th anniversary concerts worldwide. My friend and I rented a car for 24 hours to drive to Long Island and back, crashing at her house for the night.

Concerts are sort of a huge deal for me - I love music, a lot. I wear my headphones very often. If any group were to impress me live, it would be the Spice Girls, because I know EVERY song and the nuances of their background singing by heart. But somehow, I found myself completely lost with what to do while standing next to one of my best friends.

Every time I've been to a concert in the past, I've panicked or not even gone because I've been completely distracted by how I would need to stand - because of the seats being COMPLETELY uncomfortable at my size of 350+ pounds. I wouldn't be able to really dance while standing because I'd bump into someone and get a sneer. I also always needed the end seat of the row for leg room. I'd end up feeling (and being) left out, from being physically uncomfortable and not really near anyone.

Alot of attempts at youthful fun turned into strained affairs of "I really want to, but I just…you guys should just go without me."

But last night, I just stood there, as I finally had the luxury of being free to move, and didn't know what to do with it. The stadium seats were more than adequate…but I couldn't fit a comfortable position. I was sort of in shock of how should I act? How do I carry myself? How do I stand up and dance? I used to never even have to worry about correct posture because my abdominal "rolls" would only settle one way. (Side note: I'm pretty sure I've gained an inch in height since losing weight, no longer slouching with the release of strain on my spine).

I now stood in the audience with the awkwardness of someone who just discovered their body and didn't know what to do with these arms and leg-things attached.

But during the concert, my friend and the people who had joined us got caught up in our favorite song about friendship - and produced one of the most heartwarming moments ever. I'd been sitting on the end of the row because it was just how we'd ended up sitting walking in - and I got dragged into a huge embrace and our row rocked in time with the song, arms around each other, holding my unfamiliar body, yelling the lyrics at the top of our lungs. And I didn't want to be anywhere else at that moment in time.

I realize now that I didn't feel "normal" all night, until that moment. Because you know what my definition of this elusive "normal" is?

Wanting to be yourself, whoever that is, and growing to love it. For me, it was saying yes, I'm 10 months out of gastric bypass surgery. I'm at a concert where I can fit in a seat and stand freely and it's WEIRD but EXCITING. And that's OK. I'm still learning how to regain my health and sense of being and how, in general, I fit into this planet. How to love others and be a good person and grow-up while still getting away with trouble (wink). But I want to wake up and struggle through the rest of this awkward, funny, weird version of life. Because it's MY life.

And I'm able to feel all this emotion because I am alive to do so - I was on the edge of doing truly irreversible damage to my body and I was able to do something to stop it. But I can CHOOSE now, to either stand at concerts with my eyes closed and feel the music, or I can dance. I can fit in chairs or climb on top of them if I so wish. After the first 19 years of my life wishing I was anyone else but myself when I woke up, I'm just me, Christine.

In 10 months since surgery, I am nowhere near "done" learning ANYTHING, and I never will be- but I'm happy with that. I'm learning something every day about growing up AND how to take care of my new body. Like Sean said in the really overwhelmingly lovely shout-out he gave me, I changed the course of my very young life when I had surgery - and I know I'd be a fool to think I didn't.

Somehow living with that fact while at a Spice Girls concert was ridiculously fitting. I, ironically, made the most mature and adult decision of my life (to have bariatric surgery) and as a benefit, got to recapture this purely joyful music of my childhood without any fear, finally, of physically being there and feeling the happiness.

Here's to you, Bill Murray.

2008-02-05T17:17:00.000-05:00

I went to my Intro to Biology lecture this morning, and promptly wished I'd stayed in bed instead. It's bad enough to be in a lecture. It's bad enough to have to pay attention. But there's just something about "science" that makes my skin crawl - the cold hard facts, me thinks.

I find it fascinating 99% of the time, when I ponder [very, very silly] things like...how do our organs function, how does our heart pump, in the dark? It's dark inside our bodies. There are no lights. How do the parts know what they are doing, and that they are doing it right? I have to admit, I'm more of a touchy-feely type who likes to read fluffy novels. And I know I'm going to spend tonight with colored pencils making an "interesting and engaging" visual aid (read: comic strip) to help me memorize the DNA reproduction jargon that hit my fragile brain like a sledgehammer at the crack of dawn today.

But speaking of sledgehammers, an interesting thought has been kicking around in my mind since the lecture - I've spent half my college career obese. And I'm going to spend the second half...not. In many ways, I feel like I'm getting a "second shot" at it all; in other ways, it's a creepy "Groundhog Day" Effect, where I wake up everyday and relive the same day, over and over. Same place, different body.

For instance, today I sat in a chair in the lecture hall that I got stuck in 2 years ago. I realized this and almost couldn't breathe. I remember sitting there so long ago, and my hips were literally wedged so tight in the seat that I thought I cracked my hip getting up - I had to wedge my hand between the seat and PULL my thigh to get out. I remember learning quickly that anytime you're in public and stuck painfully in a seat, you can't show it. You have to mangle your body into and out of the situation with a numb face. Show no fear, no hurt, no sadness. Just do it. Just....FUNCTION. I did that alot - my entire life it seems. And for a moment, I forgot everything - and I was there again, stuck in the chair.

Then I looked down, and saw the gaps on either side of me, between the armrests and my thighs.

Science could tell me that I've lost weight and it's shifted and now I'm not so large and things don't touch like they used to. My father once asked me why I recently turned around and retreated from going down an aisle at Blockbuster. I told him it's because there was another guy in the aisle and I didn't want to have to squeeze past him. When he looked at me like I'd gone loony in the head, we sort of both realized I have no perception of my own size in relation to spaces. I suppose there are worse problems in life to have, but it's going to take time before I finally "get" what's changed.

I remember trying so hard to "be" smaller. I remember training myself to breathe slower in class, because I would pant at the slightest exertion - maybe I could be so quiet I'd just...be invisible. I'd slowly exhale and inhale so quietly, still hearing my heart pound in my ears, thinking the whole world could hear it too - and my face would be beet-red from the effort. It's crazy to remember all the things I did, the momentary and multiple concessions I made in life, desperate to not be noticeable or different from anyone else. One time, I had to run up these huge stairs in a building, and was late to class - and I had to wait in the bathroom to catch my breath for 20 minutes. And I refused to walk into class that late, so I just went home after all the effort.

In a million ways, I'm slowly taking back the little moments of unconciousness that my obesity took from my youth. I can't wait to one day be blissfully unconcerned when I sit on a folding chair. To not check the weight limit on anything. To slide into a restaurant booth without getting worried about how I'll wiggle out at the end of a meal. To sit in a class and focus on the DNA structure's lameness instead of the memories of pinching metal. But until then, I will keep the leftover ghosts from a determined girl who I'm proud to say I was (and am), close and dear to me - because she's the girl I never let down, and did this all for. And for her, I'd wake up and do it all over again.

Super Bowl Pictorial Interlude...

2008-02-03T19:49:00.000-05:00

I'm not going to lie - I have no plans on watching the Super Bowl tonight (they actually have a show called "Puppy Bowl" where you just watch puppies, on a mini astro-turf field, rolling and playing with each other cutely. As a football-dunce, that's just about my speed for a "sports" channel).

Instead, I'm just doing some homework and going to watch a movie. In my post earlier today, I mentioned finding a "front" photo...and in my computer digging tonight, I found a great picture for the blog. The perfect photo. I had been on vacation with a few friends, and there was a giant wooden frying pan attached to the side of a diner (we were in the middle of nowhere, it was understandable to signal "FOOD!" to travelers). As a joke, I was goaded to stand in front of this sign and pose for a picture, which I did comically.

I totally forgot this picture even existed. I'm pretty sure we didn't even eat there. But this picture perfectly captures:

1) My real size at the time, because VERY few "body shots" exist of me at my highest weight, because I would insist on only shoulders-and-up photos being taken of me.

2) Unhealthy people-pleasing. I didn't want to take the darn picture. But I did to please my friends. It's a characteristic I'm trying to lose along with my weight...because I'm learning to value my own feelings in situations and listen to how I feel.

3) What I thought I looked like in my head was NOT reality - I was bigger. "The camera just 'caught' me looking fat", I would reason, seeing a photo like this.

I'm pairing the photo with a picture of my workout outfit for tomorrow - so I can counteract my past with my future.

"BINGO! Wait, nevermind."

2008-02-03T15:20:00.000-05:00

Dinner on Friday night with my friends (and some new ones) went great. Eating socially isn't so much of a strain because I focus more on the people involved than on the food available nowadays. When I think back, my mind is blown away by how much of my social anxieties used to be channeled into my overeating, now that I'm aware of it.

We all ended up talking into the wee hours of the morning, and it came up in the conversation that I've lost an amount of weight equivalent to one of my friends. We stood side by side and I looked at her, realizing that I had been supporting the weight of another human being....the mass of two people had been surviving on one person's organs and bones. It's a really overhwhelming way of looking at it, using the human scale as perspective. Definitely a "wow" moment. And we somehow got into looking at old photos from when we were all together last.

Even though I never felt like I was close to 400 pounds, I was. And I denied it for a long time, which was easy to do if I just ignored the daily visual (photos) and physical (clothing sizes) reminders . I say this all now from the perspective of someone who’s been looking at old photos all day – it makes me sad how I know exactly all the hurt and pain and sadness I was hiding in my eyes in those photos. I can tell you exactly in every photo what I’m thinking; what body part I’m trying to hide, how much my back and knees are hurting, how I had to gasp for breath discreetly because we’d just been walking or moving somewhere.

My friends said they never noticed, that I always seemed so happy all the time - and yes, sometimes I was - but I was also so good at pretending. It's hard to see these photos of myself, but it makes me appreciate all I've been through and learned - and how my life is different now. But I'll never forget where I've been. And how in my most recent photos, I think look so much happier. I'll have to post some photos soon I think - I do owe you some images of the FRONT of my body. :)

It's been a fun weekend. I went and played at a Bingo tournament. I hadn't played since I don't remember when, but there were supposed to be alot of prizes, so I tagged along - and it was ridiculously fun. I went with one close friend, and we ended up at a table with some new people from another college - and nothing brings you all closer together than a crazed and intense game of bingo. It's my kind of game - where you can take credit for winning based on skill, or blame fate for a bad number card when losing. I totally had an awful card. Bah. ;)

School food: An Interesting Game to Play

2008-01-31T12:12:00.000-05:00

I went to the dining hall for lunch just now, without checking the menu online first. If you have particularly bad memories of school food as a child...it's gotten better. When it's served, they now add decorative faux lettuce pieces.

It's not often the dining halls fail to inspire me; in fact, they go out of their way to accomodate vegan/vegetarians, wheat gluten allergies, etc. I could request items, but I love to cook for myself in my dorm's kitchen (plus I know exactly what's in my food, if you catch my drift.)

Ninety-nine percent of the time though, I can find some healthy, mostly unadulterated and tasty protein sources in the hall and be pretty content. The meals are served buffet style, so it's always an adventure. But today...not even the food was labeled. What gives?? I refuse to pick my food based on percieved color and guessing the corresponding flavor.

I "found" some flaked tuna (tiny label of "TUNA"), some cheese and raw vegetables from the salad bar. Not bad by any means - I was happy, and it was a good healthy lunch.

But this one (the center) totally stumped me, just out of sheer curiosity:

A Polenta casserole. And judging from the disturbing facial expressions of the poor souls at my lunch table who tried it... not a very good one. Always inquire about the substance before you leap into a sampling of mysterious yellow speckled dishes.

Or, just take photos in the dining hall and have a lady yell at you passionately, "WHY are ya takin' a picture of the polenta" as she chases you away. Lesson learned.

Back at School...

2008-01-29T17:18:00.000-05:00

This is the first time I've been able to sit down and have time to gather my thoughts since getting back to the world of academia. I've spent the past two days "shopping" for classes, which involves going to the first session of a class, getting the list of books and hearing the professor talk about the class' subject, and then you walk out of the room realizing the professor will put you to sleep every morning for the rest of the semester and you need to find a replacement class, FAST. ;)

Similar example: Yesterday, my day began with entering a classroom, excited for the topic of the class (Color Theory In German Film)... but when strange words started coming out of the professor's mouth, I discovered the class was taught in German...which I do not speak. I've since been scrambling to re-do my schedule, and have learned to now read course descriptions more carefully.

After today's classes, I think I've figured it out - I have two really time-intensive classes and two easier ones. My major is Studio art, and art classes in general require a minimum of 15+ hours outside of class time to get the work done. I'm enrolled in a year-long course in Sculpture, which I took because I had no experience and said, hey, why not? To my surprise, this semester's topic is metal working! I'm starting welding tomorrow morning. Yes, welding, with blow-torches and fire - never thought I'd take a class on that.

When welding the metal in class, I will have to wear a full-body flame-retardant suit, face mask, gloves, etc. for safety. Trust me, I will get photos of this great outfit somehow (if you promise not to laugh too much). I'm glad that I don't even have to THINK about worrying if I'll fit in the standard flame-retardant suit. What an unexpected benefit of weight-loss!

Outside of classes, I'm bumping into people that were abroad studying in Europe last semester. I haven't seen them since last December, right before I took off time to have surgery - I didn't tell anyone what I was doing then, so they are completely blown-away by how I look now. I also dress completely differently now, wearing things that fit and I like (bright colors and crazy artsy jewelry), as opposed to just wearing the same baggy pajama pants and sweatshirts everywhere.

I also smile so much more now. I found myself rubbing my cheeks yesterday, not comprehending this new facial soreness...the painful price of being happy and showing it guess. They should have a commercial with that monotone voice, for a disclaimer: "...but Happiness (TM) has potentially hazardous side effects you should discuss with your doctor: facial pain from grinning like a fool, lightheartedness, contentment, disbelief..."

I really haven't mastered the art of responding to the compliments, but I'm trying - everyone is being so genuine that I'm reminded every moment how new it still all is - I feel like it's been 5+ years since surgery instead of almost one. Everyone says I look great and I know I do (haha) but I just feel so great that I forget I'm physically smaller and THAT'S what's eye-catching.

I did have a friend come up to me and say "Christine, being around you now, you just feel much happier and healthier - I'm so happy for you." It reminded me of how far I've come since I saw her last year - when I was just so frustrated with my health and let it sort of seep into my interactions with people. I pulled away emotionally from people as it became harder to physically move and be social with them. I'm so glad it doesn't hurt to walk anymore, and I can climb the stairs...because I will now share my time with the people who care about me, because I care about them too.

I've got this new level of confidence, completely tempered with some shyness... and I did something I never do (really, never) and initiated a gathering for people who haven't seen each other in a while - we're going to cook dinner together on Friday night and then have a fun, quiet night to just catch up. I'm really excited, and I think the girls were surprised I extended the invitation and seemed equally as happy. I can't wait to tell you all how it goes - wish me luck (for welding too)!

Way, way too cool for school.

2008-01-27T09:33:00.000-05:00

Have you ever woken up in the morning, blinked groggily at the alarm and its bothersome beeping, turned it off, rolled back over to sleep…

..then jolted out of bed, realizing why you had set the alarm in the first place?

I completely forgot that today's the day: I’m heading back to college for the Spring semester (my first class starts at 9am tomorrow, ugh), and we (the parents and myself) have to arrive on campus super early to get me re-settled in and then meet up with my brother for his birthday lunch. All of which requires me be productive RIGHT NOW (!) and quickly finish packing before we leave at 9am sharp - yikes.

I’m totally unprepared to get back to studying…I've spent the past 6 weeks blissfully erasing the memories of strenuous final exams of the Fall semester and the huge research paper I somehow pulled out of myself at the last second, a few days before Christmas. It also doesn't help ease the transition back to school that I just got home from an action-packed two weeks of family vacation over the holidays, in San Diego and Las Vegas. It's sort of our annual trip, and the previous two years we went to Florida and experienced Disneyworld. Last year's vacation is where this photo came from (surprised while at the stove, in the kitchen of our hotel room):
It's one of the few, preciously rare photographs of me at my heighest weight. (If I look familiar, you're not going crazy, this photo is posted here too, under "Christine", along with a bunch of other info on me.)

Now, the above photo can only be contrasted with the not-so-surprised (deliberately posed, actually) photo taken of me a mere 12 hours ago, for your viewing pleasure:

Pretty neat, huh? I feel so different sometimes...

But I've digressed from my point: Today I go back. But, because we were on vacation, I kind of forgot to let my mom know I needed her to help with the amount of laundry I brought home from school ( I'm a bad daughter, I know, I know...) So we rushed to get it all done and packed up a few days early, to eliminate our usual "night before" panic packing.

When we packed, My mom and I laid out all my (now clean) clothes on my bed, in piles of shirts, pants, socks, you name it. I'd taken to transporting my clothing in just regular bags for some reason the past few times I've gone from school to home and vice versa, so we found my old duffel bag and packed it all in…and there was still room for more. The second suitcase we had ready and waiting wasn’t going to be needed…what? Was I finally learning how to pack conservatively? Was I finally being responsible in not requiring an entire wardrobe of options at school, only to complain I had “nothing to wear”?

Then I remembered that exactly one year ago, I was wearing clothing in womens plus sizes 30 and 32 (for reference and scale, my hips *were* 63 inches around.) Back then, it took two suitcases to take all of my clothing that I wanted. This year, I’m packing clothing in sizes 14 and 16 of regular women's clothing…half the size. The difference in the amount of fabric alone is tremendous - leaving me with double the space in my suitcase so I can pack twice as much clothing. What's a girl to do but give in to this terrible situation? *big grin*

When my dad sees the one suitcase in the car, he's going to smile at me and say, “I’m so proud of you, it’s only going to be one suitcase to carry up your dormitory stairs. You really packed smart.” And I’ll smile innocently back at him, knowing I totally made out like a bandit.

Uh...okay it's past nine. Time to get in the car!

No Longer Dreaming...

2008-01-26T02:05:00.000-05:00

Hey there - I’m Christine, and I’ll be joining Sean in sharing my life after bariatric surgery (Hi Sean!). I’m 20 years old, and a junior in college. I weighed 368 pounds on March 26, 2007 - the day I had my Gastric Bypass performed by Dr. Choi.

In the 10 months since surgery, I’ve lost 150 pounds, with about 50 or so more pounds to lose. At 218 pounds and shrinking, I’m having the best time of my life (as demonstrated by the recent goofy photo with a life-size character at SeaWorld - better recent photo(s) to be posted soon).

Before I launch into my current life adventures, I’ll be following Sean’s lead in having my first entry introduce you to the nitty-gritty side of things: The numbers and the facts that led to my choice to have bariatric surgery.

I’ve been on a diet every year (month, day…hour it seems) as far back as I can remember. My parents dieted with me, and I also did it alone – and I would lose weight, and then regain what I lost, plus some more. My family is large-framed, and I’ve always been a relatively tall girl – 5’8” – so I figured I’d “grow into” myself, and the weight, eventually. But...that didn't really happen.

The early years are a blur of Richard Simmons and aerobics tapes in my memory. I was chubby all throughout elementary school, but I was never, ever shy. I did ballet and Girl Scouts…but I had asthma and wasn’t really able to participate in gym class. Middle school was a different animal and socially, things got a bit tougher because of my weight. Between the ages of 10 and 13, my weight crept slowly up the 200s.

At 14, I entered high school at 320 pounds. I had no health problems except some remnant childhood asthma, and the fact I just couldn’t shake the weight. When I was 15, a children’s heart specialist told me I was borderline diabetic, and given the upward slope I was climbing, if I could maintain at 350, then that’d be “great”. So I tried. I spent the next 4 years trying to stay under 400 pounds with very aggressive dieting…and I managed to bounce between 350 and 370 as my average, and 320 became my unattainable “skinny weight”.

In my first year of college, I gained an additional 20 pounds. I began to have knee pain. When I lost some of that weight then started to regain, I realized that the strain my body was under just wasn’t acceptable any longer. I couldn’t carry 300+ pounds, constantly losing and gaining more, and expect it to not affect my bones, health, and my future. The ball was going to drop soon, and I needed to decide how I wanted to approach the rest of my life fully knowing I had major health problems (joint trouble, diabetes, heart disease, and more) on the horizon if I didn’t change.

At the age of 19, I made the best and most informed decision I could – to have gastric bypass surgery. I had the complete and immediate support from my family. I decided to take off the semester from school so I could concentrate on making the lifestyle change with surgery, and my Aunt said: “Good for you. There’s never a really convenient time to take care of yourself, you’ve just got to do it.” I chose to have this surgery for ME – because I wanted to be alive TO LIVE for the rest of my life - funny as that sounds.

The co-morbidities that qualified me for surgery were that my BMI was 56, and I was borderline diabetic, with knee pain. I was at a place with my health where it was only going to get worse - like a time bomb, just waiting to go off. When I decided to have gastric bypass, I wasn't scared - I was excited, and committed to changing my life. I understood the risks of surgery...and the risks of NOT having surgery. I didn't want to live the rest of my life like I’d lived the first 20 years of it...without hope. The surgery ultimately gives you a tool to help yourself lose and keep off the weight, and that’s what I wanted.

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be sitting here, down 150 pounds, and able to share my story with others, I wouldn’t have dared to believe them...because I am now the person I used to DREAM about being. Before surgery, losing weight seemed like an insurmountable task – I had 200+ pounds to lose. I’d tried so hard, so many times before. But with the surgery as a tool, I’m finally able to work towards my goal of being a healthy person – it’s now within my reach. I am currently 218 pounds...and I thought I would die young from the effects of obesity before I saw a number on the scale this low ever again.

My life has changed in so many beautiful ways and I’m so grateful every morning I wake up. Yes, it’s the changing numbers on the scale that are easiest to keep track of to mark the transformation, but it’s the day to day experiences of life that makes me realize what I’ve been missing. My greatest joy recently was that I asked my mother get us matching Christmas outfits this year JUST because we could wear them (most 20 year olds would cringe at the mere thought of matching knit sweaters to wear with their mom; I, on the other hand, grinned gleefully for hours). I can wear normal width shoes, because the extra padding isn’t on the top of my foot anymore. I don’t get winded when I run. I can fit in a single airplane seat. I want to be active because I CAN MOVE without pain! The list goes on and on.

…But, seeing as it’s quite late and DEFINITELY time for bed (I just got home from visiting some friends I haven’t seen in a while - good time catching up), I shall end the list here, and leave you wanting more. In a few hours, I get to wake up and be me. And it won’t be a dream. That’s a pretty cool feeling, and something I wouldn’t trade for the world.