A few days ago, I wrote about my difficulties with the pre-weight-loss surgery diet. I continued to try to follow the strict diet until yesterday. I continued to be hungry and crabby and to bitch and moan to whoever would listen. I asked for help on the forums at obesityhelp.com. and I got it in the form of some kind, supportive comments as well as some practical tips about substituting protein drinks for the snacks.

Last evening, after our walk though, my friend Cricket* and I went to Swiss Chalet. I ordered the Health Check Special which is 1/4 of a roasted chicken–white meat–and I couple sides. I had veggies & a baked potato which I planned to eat with just salt & pepper. During dinner, we talked about our issues with weight, as we often do. I was, as usual, bitching and moaning about this restrictive, depressing, unrealistic diet.

While we chatted, I was toting up everything I was eating in the back of my mind. As I pulled off the chicken wing, intending to put it aside, I thought to myself, “I’ll probably never be able to have another chicken wing as long as I live.” Suddenly I understood WHY the nutritionist prescribed this stupid diet to a room full of RNY candidates: If she hadn’t, I might be running amok right now–pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one hand & a giant turkey leg in the other! I’d be up to my armpits in lemon meringue pie or…well, chicken wings! I’d be running around thinking we had to go to every restaurant in town and bring home every flavor of ice cream and not pass up anything.

And they’d wheel me into surgery with an extra 20 pounds.

Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll be good. I swear.

Now. There’s still the little problem of the “food diary.” I guess I’m going to have to lie my ass off because I’m not going to go hungry for 60+ days. I’ll be good. I won’t go crazy but dammit I can’t survive on the AFTER surgery portions BEFORE the surgery. It just isn’t possible. If I could, I’d be one of those bitchy, skinny women and we wouldn’t be having this little chat.

Perspective. That’s what I needed. Phew.