Wild and Precious: I Believe I Can Fly

Just got home from a whirlwind family vacation; my grandma hadn't traveled since around 2004 (and that was a car trip; her last flight was in 1999) and my uncle hadn't been on a vacation since the 1980s, so my grandma and I decided to plan a trip to Los Angeles and Las Vegas. We flew out to LA and spent three days there, then headed to Vegas for two days and flew home from there. From Vegas, I drove almost directly to the set in Dallas so that I could help work on our film project. So needless to say, it's been stressful and tiring! But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I did notice a few fantastic things though. One was that my size 22 jeans, which I wore into the Barker Bariatric Clinic in January for my surgery consult, were literally unable to stay up on my hips. When I put my cell phone in my pocket, it weighed them down so much they fell down around my thighs and I had to hold them up as I walked through the airport. Secondly was that for the first time that I can remember in recent memory, I didn't need a seat-belt extender. Some planes, like Virgin America, are naturally built a bit more generously but even then I would have to pull the belt to its maximum length when I flew to LA each year. Flying American Airlines made me nervous because I knew their seats were a bit more narrow (though not as small as the Southwest ones, which Kevin Smith had to deal with in his famous fiasco). However, the moment I got on the plane I realized a difference; when I walked down the aisle, I didn't bang my hips on the edges of the other seats and didn't rack my thigh on any protruding armrests. I got to my seat without a problem and clicked the seat belt into position without needing any extra inches. This alone was enough to make me elated. I was sitting in the middle seat on a three-across row, and I wasn't spilling into anyone else's personal space. I am still a long way from skinny, but I wasn't pressing my thigh against the woman next to me, and I didn't have to shoot any apologetic glances to the man beside me when my fat elbow brushed his as he tried to use his armrest. I even managed to put the tray table down all the way to hold up my heavy hardback of the new Joe Hill book (a fantastic read, by the way, and highly recommended). Usually the tray table hits the fleshy top of my thighs and refuses to lower all the way down, causing me to have to use the table at an angle. This time it had no trouble falling into the fully-descended state. Needless to say, I was elated.

And we walked around Universal Studios, me in regular sneakers and baggy Bermuda shorts, and I didn't have a SINGLE problem. No ankle-rolling, no calf cramps, no out-of-breath windedness as we walked the miles through the park in the blistering LA dry-heat. I didn't drink soda, just swigged water and Powerade Zero throughout the day. I didn't eat anything junky for me except a small bite of my grandma's pretzel at one point. I had more energy than I remember having in a long time. I got on every ride, fearless as to whether or not I would fit; the lap bars went down without difficulty, my ass fit into the pre-molded indentions on the seats. I didn't have the embarrassment of having to get up, red-faced and stammering an apology to the bored ride operator as I climbed back out of the ride and slunk to the exit. I was like everyone else.

After Universal, we walked around Warner Brothers Studios and the same situation; I fit comfortably in the smaller tram seat, I walked miles without complaint, and my body seemed ready for more when we wrapped for the day. I can't remember the last time my body felt this good. I was able to keep up with people.

In Vegas, one of my best friends Stephanie and I went into a pin-up store. They carry plus-sizes, but even these run small. I found a Bettie Page dress that not only fit, but it looked great on me; when we went to a similar store in LA in October, the only dress that fit me was very tight and difficult to get on. This one fit like a glove and wasn't even the biggest size they had available. So of course, I had to buy it. And then Stephanie and I walked miles up and down the Las Vegas Strip and Fremont Street, and my only complaint was wearing Converse because my feet ached. Other than that, nothing--- my thighs rubbed together as always, but there was no blistering, painful rash afterward from excessive friction. My legs didn't ache. My hips didn't hurt. My back felt alright.

I may complain about the surgery sometimes, about missing food and the social implications of going out to eat with my friends, but believe me... I felt amazing on this vacation. It was a challenge to avoid the shitty food everywhere, especially when my body wanted to taste everything, but my one big indulgence was gelato because I looked it up and found out that it had enough protein that I could justify eating a small serving of it. (I didn't even finish a single-scoop cup so it wasn't too bad calorie-wise.) But once I adjusted to not being able to indulge in the junky, fatty, delicious foods of my past, I realized that it was worth it to walk around without pain, to enjoy myself on rides that I previously had concerns about fitting into, and to realize that while I certainly can't buy clothes in just any store I walk into, my options are certainly more abundant than they were when I was nearly 100 pounds heavier.

When I weighed myself upon arriving back home, I hadn't lost any weight in that week--- which makes sense, since I was eating sporadically and my body was probably desperately clinging to those calories I did ingest due to all of the exercise we were doing. But I feel great, and that's really what this is all about.