In March, I weighed 240 pounds and started dieting and exercising. I managed to lose around 2 pounds a week until I stalled at 228 pounds. Much of that was because I stopped walking my 10,000 steps each day because I was spending literally every waking minute on a project for work before my surgery. But I kept between 228 and 230 until May 9th when I went to see the Gastroenterology Doctor.
My regular doctor was concerned that medicine to lower my cholesterol was causing liver damage because the liver numbers from my blood work were elevated. It actually turns out that I have a fatty liver. Which went along nicely with my fatty butt, my fatty thighs, and my fatty neck.
When I went to the Gastroenterologist, we sat and talked about my diet. He asked me what diet I was following, and I told him I wasn’t trying any diet in particular, but that it was basically a low-fat one. I told him what I was trying to avoid, and what I was trying to eat more of, and he stopped me and said I was damaging my liver in much the same way that an alcoholic does. Only I was doing it with carbs and sugar. So he put me on a low carb diet. His only instruction was to keep my net carbs at under 50 per day. He showed me how to calculate a net carb using the Nutrition label on a bag of nuts he had in his office.
You take Total Carbohydrates and subtract Dietary Fiber giving you the Net Carbs. And I get 50 per day. He told me that a glass of orange juice would probably put me over for the day. I told him that I thought my weight loss had leveled off because I had stopped exercising, and he told me that the beauty of this diet was that anyone can lose weight on it, with or without exercising. This sounded especially good to me since I was having surgery in less than a week, and not about to do any exercising anytime soon. I said I would give the low carb diet a try, and he encouraged me to check the food labels of everything that I had been eating, So I did, right after I left his office.
If you were in Giant Eagle that day, I was the grown man walking up and down the aisle, sobbing as I picked up item after item after item of things I could no longer eat. I have never been a big meat-eater. Ever. In more than one instance, I have been mistaken for a vegetarian. I am also a fuss face and a VERY picky eater. So I was pretty sure that I was going to die on this low-carb diet.
But I kept it up, even when ordering from the hospital menu. I apologize in advance for this visual, but since the surgery, I spend most of my day with only a shirt on. When I first got home, the drain tubes were right where the band of my underwear sat. Workout shorts didn’t help either. And the day we went to have the tubes removed, the belt dug right into the main stitches. But even when the drain tubes came out, the stitches and the VERY sensitive parts of my skin were right where my the elastic wanted to press. So I remained without pants. With the blinds closed, feeling a bit like a vampire.
These days, I keep trying to get back to a normal routine. So to get me walking, we will go out to eat, or I will tag along while she goes to the grocery store. And I found that my pants don’t fit me right anymore. I have been wearing size 40 waist pants for a very long time. When I was at my high water mark of 250 pounds last July, I was using every bit of those 40 inches. Mostly because my pride wouldn’t let me buy anything in a size 42.
Today, those 40 inch pants slide right off me if I am not wearing a belt. Literally. I pull them on and and button them, and if i let go, they hit the floor. I had to dig into the back of the closet and bottom of my dressers to find my old 38 inch clothing.
Which makes sense, because…
This morning, when I stepped on the scale, with zero exercise since May 9th, found that I now weigh 217 pounds.