More than just emotional eating

The most uncomfortable (and by "uncomfortable", I mean gut-wrenchingly painful) realization that I've come to along this journey is that I am not an emotional overeater.

I've tried to describe this obsessive need to eat to people before, but everyone gives me the same puzzled look and asks, "Have you been checked out to be sure there's nothing medically wrong with you?"  Yes!  Repeatedly.  Because really, if swallowing a pill was going to fix this, I would have pursued that a long time ago.

So I swallowed a pill.  Phentermine.  Legalized speed.  Basically.  The change was miraculous, overwhelming to say the least.  In a matter of only a few hours I went from nearly every waking thought was about food to not thinking of food at all, finding it unappetizing even.  I would wake up in the morning, and my first thought was "what's for breakfast?", even going as far as thinking about lunch before the sun had even risen.  I would get anxious around mealtimes, just waiting for my next meal.  Thinking about what I was going to eat, how much I was going to eat, and when I was going to eat it consumed my every thought. (Pun intended)

But with the phentermine, it was totally different.  When I was bored, I was able to recognize I was bored and not starving.  When I was upset, I was able to recognize the emotional feeling without tying it to my previous or next meal.  The thing is, I don't just eat when I'm sad, or happy, or angry, or bored.  I eat when I'm sad and happy and angry and bored.  I eat because I'm breathing; I eat because I woke up that morning.

I've got to say.  Disappointment, vulnerability, the true feeling that you've failed, or true remorse unmasked by food or appetite is painful.  The first time I felt it, truly felt it, I didn't know what to do with myself.  The phentermine took away my inclination to interpret the feeling as hunger or to mask it with endorphins related to tasty food.  It was beyond words.  In a sense, it blew my mind - at least it blew whatever beliefs I had originally held regarding my eating patterns out of the water.

So sometimes phentermine gives me insomnia and makes it so I can't sleep for days on end.  Sometimes phentermine makes me jittery, or makes me feel sort of anxious.  At those times, I stop taking it for a while.  When I stop taking it for a long while, the old ravenous feelings of hunger come back but I am better equipped to stave them off, but after a while I wear myself down and I'm less equipped to handle these constant urges.  That's when I either give in and gain or start taking the phentermine again.  I don't allow myself to feel like I've given up by taking it.  It's strange because it does weird things to me, and it almost, in a way, feels like a cop-out to me.  It does other things besides suppress my appetite; it boost metabolism and gives me a lot of energy.  I don't really have to do anything but take a pill in the morning and I'll steadily lose weight.  It feels shameful, like I'm taking the easy way out.  But I refuse to let myself feel that way, and refuse to allow myself to tell me things like that.

For too long I've allowed other people's opinions to mold my ideas, even when others weren't there to voice them  themselves.  I constantly turn over and over in my head, what would they think?  What would they say? WHY do I feel like this is a cop out?  Because I truly feel that way?  No.  No, I honestly feel the way I've described.  I'm not superwoman.  It's taken me 20-some years to even feel bad-feeling emotions.  It's taken me the same amount of time to admit this is larger than me and I need help to deal with it.  I'm proud of myself for being able to recognize when I am too much for me and I need help.  I'm proud of myself for getting that help, and I won't let me think poorly of myself for doing so.

Picture Progression

A timeline from start to finish as I progress toward my goal.

Before: 256 lbs

237 lbs

226 lbs

217 lbs

210 lbs (additional weight loss NOT due to removal of my head)

Official 50 lb mark

210 - I had a bit of a stumble for a little while

204 lbs

Official Response from Anthem

I've received official word from my health insurance provider that they will not cover any aspect of my pursuit of medical weight loss because weight loss is not considered medically necessary.

Well, thanks.  Thanks a stinkin' lot.

I am 5 feet 6 inches tall.  I weigh 256 pounds.  My BMI is 41.3.  According to annecollins.com, as well as just about every single doctor or nurse or other healthcare professional who thinks I might listen to them, my BMI makes me morbidly obese.  Risk factors of a 41.3 BMI include: a 50-100% chance of premature death from all causes, increased risk of just about anything under the sun to include diabetes, insulin resistance, cancer, or heart disease, an increased risk of fatty liver disease, chronic venous insufficiency (from what I gather, this is poor circulation to my extremeties), and several other health risks.   In addition to my BMI placing me into the morbidly obese group, I carry the majority of my weight around my middle, which is also known as central obesity.  Central obesity carries with it several additional health risks such as marked increased risk for cardiovascular disease (in addition to the risk that my BMI itself poses), deep vein thrombosis, and kidney failure.

So glad to hear that my obesity is of no cause for concern to you, Anthem.  Good thing this pursuit is important enough to me to foot the bill myself.

Ageless Weight Loss Center

Have you ever seen the commercials for Ageless Weight Loss Center?  They promise extreme weight loss the healthy way.  I thought that this is something I would be looking for, so I made an appointment for a consultation.

Believe me when I say this:  Ageless Weight Loss Center is a corporation, driven by monetary gain.

Well, of course they are, right?  Everyone's out to make a profit, right?

I had my consultation and the "nurse" (who has no actual real medical credentials aside from the fact that she lost a lot of weight on "the program" herself) hooked me up to the super duper fat-o-meter (pet name compliments of me) to determine my body composition and basal metabolic rate.  Funny, I don't remember talking about the super duper fat-o-meter in any of my Wellness courses when we discussed ways to determine body fat rates and composition.

Anyway, the super duper fat-o-meter said the same thing that I've been saying all alone.  I'm fat, morbidly so, and my basal metabolic rate is actually quite high (2100 calories when my body isn't doing anything other than performing basic life functions) so aside from constantly stuffing my face there really isn't any reason for me to be so fat.  Thanks.

So then she takes me into this room to show me "the program", which is truly just a bunch of shakes and bars.  Gee, lady, if all it took to drop 100 lbs was shakes and bars, I would have done it already.  Seriously, though, does she really think I haven't already tried Slim Fast?  So she makes me a "shake", hands it to me to taste, and asks in a really perky voice, big stupid smile on her face, "Doesn't it takes amazing?  Hard to believe it's a diet, huh?"  The look on her face dropped when I responded with, "That has got to be the MOST disgusting thing I've ever put in my mouth.  That is absolutely awful."  To which she retorted with the all-famous challenging comment, "Well, maybe you're just not at a point yet where you are willing to make sacrifices for your health."  And I bit... hard...

So then she showed me how much shit-in-a-glass costs these days.  The entire cost of my intended program, with just 60 lbs of weight loss as my goal, was something to the tune of 3 grand.

Now I'm just pissed off that these people are taking advantage of desperate people in circumstances like this, luring them in with false hopes of getting to a weight they can be proud of and then emptying their pockets on a program that will, in all likelihood, result in regaining all weight lost and then some in the process.

Hello, I'm Abbie

Hello, I'm Abbie.  I'm a compulsive overeater.  We (compulsive overeaters, that is) have a support group, just like Alcoholics Anonymous.  Actually, our 12-step program is modeled after Alcoholics Anonymous, so there are remarkable similarities.

For whatever reason, at some point in my life, I learned to turn to food for comfort and pleasure.  I developed inappropriate and unhealthy eating patterns.  It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that my overeating was compulsive, based on emotions and circumstances, and that I am not fat for the simple fact that food loves me so much that it decides to hang on to any part of my body for all eternity.

I am 5 feet 6 inches tall, 256 lbs.  I am standing at the precipice of my journey to regain control of my life and attempting to conquer the hold that food has on my body.  To be perfectly honest, I am scared shitless.

This is me:

I look pretty happy, huh?  Or not.

See that look on my face?  It pretty well captures my outlook on my life right at the moment.  The idea of losing the amount of weight I need to lose is pretty scary.  Will I be able to do it?  What if I fail?  Will I allow small stumbling blocks to kill my desire, my need, to be at a healthy weight?  My biggest fear: what if it's not possible?  What if I truly can't do it?

Here goes nothing.  I'm jumping in with both feet.