When my uncle passed away 16 months ago, my aunt put a pack of Marlboro reds in his coffin during the wake- to later be buried with him.
There were a lot of pictures and flowers and even a little stuffed rottweiler puppy in there too, but the thing that stood out the most was the little white and red box of cigarettes resting near his right hand.
Uncle had open heart surgery a good 15 years prior and even after that, and being told time and time again that he must quit smoking or he would die “soon”, he never could. In fact, the week before he passed away while in the hospital after suffering a stroke, he asked my father for a cigarette (my dad quit smoking 20 years ago).
The image of the pack of cigarettes in the coffin actually makes me smile. I know it probably shouldn’t because it really is what ultimately sent him to his grave, but he was just so darn stubborn about his smoking. And in the 40+ years I can recall with him in my life, I always remember him with a cigarette… specifically a Marlboro red. So I guess it was kind of fitting to see a pack next to him when saying goodbye.
Yesterday my dinner consisted of a “small” bag of Sour Cream and Onion JAYS potato chips. It wasn’t a family size bag, but it wasn’t one of those 25 cent bags either. I believe it had 3 servings of chips in the bag.
I’m 2.5 months out from having vertical sleeve gastrectomy weight loss surgery and my dinner last night was a fucking bag of potato chips.
I don’t feel guilty about this; I don’t particularly feel bad. I do feel a bit disappointed in myself, but I also know that today is a new day and I will move forward.
I’ve been reading the book EAT WHAT YOU LOVE LOVE WHAT YOU EAT and I want to be truly cognitive of why I’m eating, when I’m eating, how I’m eating, etc–hence this post.
I bought the chips on Sunday when I ran out to get a prescription. Because on Sunday I had a taste for salty, crunchy chips. But by the time I bought them, I wasn’t hungry so I didn’t eat them and just left them in the car.
Then yesterday, I thought about the fucking chips all day long because I had them–I knew they were there. So after I dropped my kid off to her evening activity and after I got some gas and walked around a bit, I found myself opening the bag of chips while on the way back to picking up my girl.
And sure as shit, I ended up stuffing down the entire bag by the time I parked the car to pick up my girl.
Was I hungry? Maybe a little.
Honestly though, I believe I ate the chips because I thought about them all day long, because I knew the chips were there. And I knew if I didn’t eat them, they’d be there until I either ate them or threw them away. And if I bought the bag in the first place, there was no way I’d throw it out.
So yeah, I ate the chips. All of them.
The “good” news is that I was stuffed after eating the chips. Stuffed. That’s the restriction from VSG, thank god almighty. (Pre-VSG, I would’ve acted like the chips were nothing and had a full meal of whatnot with my girl after her class was over. But I absolutely couldn’t do that last night. Thank god.)
So I ate the chips. And it’s not the first time I’ve had chips since surgery (but it’s definitely the first time I’ve had that much).
I’m not a perfect bariatric patient.
I’m not a perfect human being.
I have issues with food. Not even surgery can fix this about me. Not yet at least. I’m working on it- that’s why I’m blogging my truth here.
Like I said yesterday, my reasons for WLS wasn’t to be be thin or “not” fat. My goal is to be healthy. And part of being healthy, in my opinion, has to do with my mental game.
So yeah, I ate the chips. All of them.
And now it’s time to move on and continue toward my goal of becoming healthy and eating healthily, and hopefully, when my time is up, there won’t be a bag of chips by my side in my coffin.