This leads me to my other big issue, the need for a real ‘cheerleader’. As I said in the last post, my wife intended to arrive in time to see the specialist after the test because she had a few questions she wanted to ask. Unfortunately, because I went in early she actually arrived just as we were settling the bill! This didn’t go down well at all and I had the sneaking suspicion she thought I’d done this deliberately, which of course I’d not. To mollify her a bit, I suggested lunch so we wandered over to the local village to eat. Had a nice meal, much larger than I’d intended, and we chatted.
I’d come out of the chat with the specialist, really upbeat about the future and pleased I’d actually passed the test! My wife seemed less impressed. She doesn’t like the idea of the operation at all and insists that all I need to do is control my lack of willpower. Simple as that. Her opinion is that if I can control my eating as far as I have, in order to lose what weight I have, why can’t I do it long term and lose weight the ‘natural’ way.
She entirely fails to appreciate, firstly that the surgeon told her I wouldn’t be able to. I can do it short-term, but *will* eventually backslide to the position I’ve been in for most of my life. The members of the sleeve support group who’ve tried have *also* said the same thing, many of them tried before the operation but almost failed. The reason we (I feel like a real member now I have passed the test) manage to control our eating before the operation is having a real target, a hope for something that will help us and give us a tool that will almost guarantee we’ll finally be rid of the weight. This again is what the surgeon told us.
Moving along, I also tried to remind her that she’s known me for over 40 years and in all that time only for a short time have I been fit and relatively slim. Surely, I tried to explain, as I’ve done since the subject of the operation came up, if I *could* have lost weight that way I *would* have.
The main result of the chat was that I totally lost my upbeat mood and was just disappointed. I tried to explain to her that I wanted, what I really *needed* was a proper *cheerleader*. Someone who would build me up, make me feel confident, to tell me I’m doing the right thing and understand I’m making a real concerted effort towards controlling my weight. Basically to *support* me. We parted on a less than positive note and I drifted back home feeling quite sad.
Got home, and had a blazing row with my daughter (for all sorts of reasons) which ended my day on a really sour note. I’d gone from a real high to a real low so I went off to cheer myself up watching some rugby league and eating a packet of chicken tenders and chips from Red Rooster. Didn’t help. Ah well, life goes on and I can be my own cheerleader. Yay me… you believe *can* do this. I believe in you, even if nobody else does!! Go, go, go… !! 😦
The Eclectic Interweb 