2008-11-17T19:28:34Z urn:uuid:60a76c80-d399-11d9-b93C-0003939e0af6 CoalEngine CoalSpeak urn:uuid:1225c695-cfb8-4ebb-aaaa-80da344efa6a 2008-11-17T19:28:34Z

Methinks you doth protest too much! By: Katie Jay, MSW, National Association for Weight Loss Surgery Printer Friendly My son is a picky, picky eater. He has been that way practically since birth. Certain textures are intolerable to him, and no amount of trying seems to cure that. I understand. I can’t touch dry wood without cringing. I never cook with a wooden spoon. My friend, Pat, never touches glass. She always uses a plastic cup. Because I catered to my son’s picky-food demands, he began to use his pickiness to refuse foods that didn’t taste good to him — even if they weren’t intolerable from a texture perspective. He won’t eat vegetable lasagna, because the slimy texture and the foods mixed together make him gag — literally. So, I don’t insist he eat that kind of food. But, he also refused to taste cauliflower a few years back. Solitary, non-slimy, cauliflower. We argued. He stomped his feet. I badgered. He finally relented. “Just one bite,” I demanded. “Only one bite,” he insisted. He put the cauliflower in him mouth and began to chew. Then his eyes teared up. At first I felt guilty, because I thought, maybe this was a texture-related aversion. But, no, I argued with myself, the cauliflower is not slimy or mixed with another food. “Why are you crying,” I asked? Barrett growled in frustration and turned his face away from me. “What’s wrong,” I begged? As I moved to look at his face, he turned further away. I tried again to see his face. He could turn no further, so I caught a glimpse. I saw a facial expression that told me he was angry, but his mouth was happily chewing. I grinned at him, “You like it!” He growled again, but with a slight laugh in his voice, “I don’t like it. I don’t want to like it!” WLS people I work with feel the same way sometimes about a new food or behavior. Kathy, a coaching client, insisted during a recent phone call that she hates to exercise. But she is regaining weight. So, I asked her if she’d be willing to try some sort of movement — despite her hatred. She reluctantly agreed. “Just one try,” I nudged. “Only one try,” she insisted. We brainstormed a list of 10 things she could try. We included walking and swimming — the common exercises. But we also included belly dancing and yoga. Ultimately, Kathy chose to borrow her neighbor’s mini trampoline and give it a try. At the end of our next phone session, I noticed Kathy had not mentioned her exercise experiment. So I inquired, “How did it go with the mini trampoline?” At first there was silence on the other end of the line. She groaned, but I could tell she was smiling. I grinned, “You like it!” “I don’t like it!” Kathy retorted. But, I could hear her laughing as she hung up on me. Katie Jay, MSW, CTA-certified Wellness Coach is the Director of the National Association for Weight Loss Surgery. Sign up for her free email newsletter at www.nawls.com. Printer Friendly

urn:uuid:1225c695-cfb8-4ebb-aaaa-80da344efa6a 2008-07-09T19:45:40Z

A Moment of Clarity (With Gratitude) By: Katie Jay, MSW, National Association for Weight Loss Surgery Printer Friendly My husband, Mike, and I watched the movie “The Notebook” recently. We don’t normally watch love stories, especially not tear-jerkers. I get too sad! But something told me we better watch this movie. And Mike agreed. It was about a couple that fell in love, separated, and eventually got together again. Their love was deep and enduring, and they stayed together for the rest of their lives. They died in each others arms. The story is told through a notebook the woman had written in. She was developing dementia and must have wanted to remember her life story. So each day, a man she did not recognize read to her from the notebook; and every once in awhile she would have a few moments of clarity. She would recognize the man as her husband, and they would embrace. In one scene she looked at her husband with love and asked him, “How long do we have?” “About 5 minutes,” he replied. So, the couple danced to old, familiar music, savoring the time. When they pulled apart, she had lost her clarity. “Who are you?” she asked the man. Do you ever lose sight of what’s important in your life? Sometimes when I am caught up in the drama of my food obsession, I forget who I am and what is really important in my life. I bash myself for overeating, for skipping my vitamins, for criticizing myself for looking fat … I totally forget I have a good life. A life with love, opportunity, fun, potential, hope, and joy. “The Notebook” really touched my husband and me. We have tough circumstances right now, with some family demands and job issues, but when we watched that movie, we realized our problems are manageable, and our burdens, well, welcome. I am going to enjoy a thankful heart this week. I am going to remember — because I can — that this world has plenty of joy to offer me, and I have plenty to offer the world. I’m not going to let my food, body, and weight obsession rule me, define me, or distract me. I’m going to LIVE MY LIFE this week with gratitude. How about you? Katie Jay www.nawls.com Printer Friendly

urn:uuid:1225c695-cfb8-4ebb-aaaa-80da344efa6a 2008-05-22T14:53:55Z

Running on the Beach (It’s Dangerous!) By: Katie Jay, MSW, National Association for Weight Loss Surgery Printer Friendly “It should have been a perfect moment,” I thought as I spit sand out of my mouth like a man spitting out teeth after a fight. I had taken my new dog, Ruby, to the beach for a walk. An action that was totally out of character for me. First of all, the mere idea of me having a dog was mind-blowing. I was not a “dog person” before weight loss surgery. I was a “cat person.” Recently, however, I rescued a dog from a shelter so that I would have a built-in walking buddy. (Dogs never turn you down — and they are always available.) Second, before WLS I didn’t have the energy or the desire to put a slobbering canine into my car and drive to the beach. And I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to walk laboriously (actually waddle, if you want to know the truth) from the car to the ocean over hot sand. Third, even if I had gotten myself to the edge of the ocean, I would not have set out for a hike along the beach — let alone a run. I would have stood there with the waves nipping at my toes, studied the sea for a minute or so (looking for dolphins), turned around, and gone home. I wouldn’t even have sat down, because getting up was so darn difficult. Now, I was a new woman. Ruby the dog and I hopped lightly out of the car, practically skipped to the shore, and embarked on a brisk walk, letting our toes get wet from time to time. Ruby loved the surf so much, I started trotting through the water along the shore, so that she could jump over the remnants of the incoming waves. She gained speed as we did this, so naturally I gained speed, too! And I was RUNNING! Me! Katie Jay. Running. My hair was blowing in the wind, my strides were strong. “I look good,” I imagined, “a slender, fit, woman out running in a fashionable exercise outfit. And with a great-looking dog, too!” Sitting on a sand dune ahead of me were three college kids. They watched me approach. They didn’t stare, really, they just saw me as they scanned the beach. They were just some guys taking a break from surfing. As I got close to them, and realized they saw me coming, I started to feel self conscious, “A fat woman running,” I thought, “how embarrassing.” As I reached the guys, running at full speed, my ankle twisted, I lost my balance, went airborne — and then landed on my face in the sand, mouth open — directly in front of those guys. Thankfully, I was able to jump up immediately, spit the sand out, and keep moving. I guess being in shape has its advantages. But I’ll never go running on the beach again. Too dangerous. Printer Friendly

urn:uuid:1225c695-cfb8-4ebb-aaaa-80da344efa6a 2008-05-11T11:37:36Z

My Body Is a Wonderland (A Lesson in Self Love) By: Katie Jay, MSW, National Association for Weight Loss Surgery Printer Friendly I’ve always thought I’d like yoga, but I had an experience last week (during my third yoga class) I hope I never forget. I had attended two yoga classes before the one last week. My first class was the day after I tried cardio dance for the first time. I think I was depleted. I’m not sure I ate enough calories that day given the amount of exercise I had done. And the yoga just felt awful. Partly, I was envious of the other people in the class who looked slim and comfortable in their skin. I felt dumpy and embarrassed in my exercise clothes. While no one stared, I was sure people were judging me about something. My big butt, my wobbly arms, my folds of skin, my age, anything negative I could come up with. I think I was sad realizing I have an older body now, and the last time I did yoga (years ago) I had been more flexible. Yes, I was grieving the younger body I lost to obesity and time. To make matters worse, I now had very poor balance, still trying to compensate for the huge body I no longer have. The second class was better. I can’t say I loved it, but I felt better than I did the first time — not so awkward and not so focused on how my droopy body looked in my exercise clothes. I was able to balance on one foot for a few seconds. Progress. To get ready for my third yoga class, I shopped for a new exercise outfit. I didn’t try it on at the store. I just pulled a “medium” off the rack, knowing it would fit — and probably be a bit big. The morning of class I put the outfit on and realized it was skin tight. Oh no! As I looked in the mirror at home I decided that because the yoga room is dimly lit, and because I didn’t want to make excuses, I would go to class anyway and just deal with the embarrassment. After all, I live in embarrassment most of the time anyway. The class began with a lit candle and a humming sort of music that touched my soul. I moved through the sun salutation and realized I could do it with ease. As we twisted to do a “triangle” position, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There I was in the sea of bodies attending the class — and I realized that if I was someone else looking on, I would not even have noticed me. I looked like everyone else. Not better, not worse. I was just like them. Realizing I was not sticking out like a sore thumb struck me at a very deep level and I’m not even sure why. It must have been the idea of fitting in, which I must have always longed to do. I also realized that my tight clothes allowed me to really feel where in space my body was, and allowed me to move in a completely unrestricted way. It felt great to be exposed and at the same time indistinguishable from the others in the class. At the end of class we did a meditation. I floated away, more relaxed than I have been in 20 years. The kind of relaxed that only comes when there is no self consciousness. I experienced a nirvana I don’t think many people with eating disorders such as mine ever experience. And then, I started to cry. Right there in the yoga class! As the lights came up and people started to leave I sat there wiping away my tears, feeling surprised at my emotion and oddly elated. The yoga teacher looked at me questioningly. I found myself saying to her, “I’m not sure, but I think this is first time in 20 years I’ve really been in my body.” Being in my body, for me, meant to be without shame and self consciousness. I had no need to mentally leave. I was completely, 100%, present. This morning, as I looked in the mirror after my shower, I saw my empty folds of skin. The scars trumpeting my battle with obesity. And then, looking closer, I saw my body. The shape my muscles give it. The leanness underneath. The power in it. My body is a wonderland. Search My Blog! Printer Friendly

urn:uuid:1225c695-cfb8-4ebb-aaaa-80da344efa6a 2008-04-22T14:37:55Z

Drop Some Rocks! (Is Your Life a Burden?) By: Katie Jay, MSW, National Association for Weight Loss Surgery Printer Friendly Imagine that your job in life is to swim across a fast-moving river carrying a bag of rocks. People often fill their bags with too many rocks, including rocks that don’t belong to them. A fast-moving river can be hard to get across even under the best of conditions. And it’s nearly impossible to cross when you are carrying a heavy burden. We live in a busy world. Often success is measured by how much we do, how busy we are, and how heavy the load is that we carry. WLS patients are faced with a choice after surgery, because we have chosen to add some hefty rocks to our bags — the responsibility of making our rigorous WLS lifestyle a priority — our ability to carry lots of other rocks will be limited. By the very nature of our WLS we carry a lot of rocks in our bags: taking vitamins and supplements, monitoring our labs, exercising, losing and maintaining weight, drinking water, eating enough protein, dealing with food obsession, being prepared for any eating situation, adjusting our self image, fighting urges to graze or overeat or eat sweets…I could go on and on! This added burden for WLS patients makes it imperative that we be deliberate in the number and size of the rocks we carry. Because we carry the extra burden of the WLS lifestyle, we must take a realistic look at our lives and adjust our obligations accordingly. If you are carrying other people’s rocks unnecessarily; i.e., doing all the work for the team at your job, volunteering again because no other parent will step up, making cookies for a friend’s party; you might want to rethink what you’re doing. Carrying too many rocks is risky business. And carrying your WLS rocks and everyone else’s just might make your sink. Keep these three things in mind, and begin to work on not making yourself carry such a huge bag of rocks: Everyone has to carry rocks, but the people whose loads are the lightest tend to set good boundaries, value themselves, and take an honest look at their capabilities. When you carry someone else’s rocks, and they are capable of carrying their own rocks, you don’t do yourself or them a favor. Making brave choices about which rocks you will carry — and which ones you will not carry — will bring you more rewards than you could ever imagine. Just remember, you don’t have to do everything everyone expects of you. You can say no to eating at a restaurant that triggers you to overeat. You can ask your husband or wife not to bring chips into the house. You can even say no to running an errand for a friend, if running that errand would interfere with your healthy habit of eating before you get too hungry. The river may rage in my life, but I am determined to carry as light a load as possible. How about you? To get my free e-newsletter and the special report, The 10 Most Common Mistakes Weight Loss Surgery Patients Make, go to: www.nawls.com Printer Friendly

urn:uuid:1225c695-cfb8-4ebb-aaaa-80da344efa6a 2008-02-29T09:48:12Z

Transfer Addiction Is Common By: Katie Jay, MSW, National Association for Weight Loss Surgery Printer Friendly I spoke at a conference last weekend on the topic of Transfer Addiction. When I was researching the topic for my speech, I learned that an Austrian psychologist estimates as many as 30% of weight loss surgery patients may develop a transfer addiction after surgery. That’s a huge number. I get several emails a week from people who are feeling as out of control as a car on ice. They are out of control and in a panic. Some have a food addiction, and have regained some weight. Others have found themselves suddenly addicted to alcohol or shopping or gambling. The sad reality is people are very ashamed of addictions. But they shouldn’t be. Addictions are complicated; they are caused by both physical and psychological reasons — but not by lack of willpower or by personal weakness. Addiction is about changing how you feel. But how you feel is effected by what you eat, how you live, your brain chemistry, your hormones, and many other things. Instead of looking for blame, though, the most productive response to an addiction is accepting responsibility for quitting your addiction. No matter how slick the ice, you can turn the steering wheel in the correct direction, and come out of the skid. Talk to an addiction professional if you are feeling out of control with a substance or behavior. Or write to me: katiejay@nawls.com Printer Friendly