The Last Supper

Permission is a wonderful thing; it really sets you free -- sometimes, to hurt yourself. When I realized that my Body Mass Index (BMI) wasn't high enough to warrant the Lap-Band surgery I so dearly wanted, I set out to qualify.

Anything that starts out with the two words: Hot Fudge is a good beginning, I figured. I bought gallons of ice cream and jars of hot fudge, and doled it out every night with determination. It didn't take much effort; it's ingrained in my very being: hot fudge, should be a major food group in my opinion.

Now, although I love chocolate, and will do just about anything to get to it, I never allow myself to go overboard, usually, as I am a diabetic and have to watch it. In fact, I'm a very healthy eater. I love fresh fruits and vegetables and grilled, simple things like chicken and fish, and that's usually the way I eat. Whole grains, like wild rice, diet sodas or iced teas -- never a fully-sugared drink, unless it's a rare margarita. I've always talked a good talk, but have usually made the healthy choices when it came down to it, unless I was doing it with purpose, like going out with friends to splurge. I like to splurge.

My friends were startled at my decision to get the surgery, because I wasn't exactly of gargantuan proportion. When I told them of my goal to good health, they were all more than willing to help me get there. It not only helped me on my journey; it gave them a reason to pig out, too.

"Where do you wanna eat? We've got to get it all in before your surgery," they'd say. I was at the ready, fork in hand in an instant. Let's load up; I've got a lot of work to do here!

It began gradually, almost timidly, during the holidays when my dad was dying and all kinds of handwriting was on the wall. I needed something to help me not end up in the same sinking boat as he. The diabetes, the cancer, the dementia. "Get me out of here," my body seemed to cry to me on a daily basis. I needed the escape of the surgery; sure, I'll have the cheeseburger platter.

On a Thanksgiving trip to Las Vegas, I began eating like a person without weight problems. There was a really good buffet at the hotel where we stayed, and they had a flour-free fudge torte that was to die for. I had it at every single meal.

I told Robert about the surgery before we left. He was reservedly in favor of it, once he heard my reasoning. He wants me to be healthier, too, and he respects that it's my body and my decision. He also knows how much I love chocolate. He doesn't really understand why I would want to have some if I wasn't even hungry -- he doesn't understand that chocolate isn't about hunger; it's about satisfaction. It's difficult, I suppose to understand the psyche of an overeater if you're not one. But he never sees the weight; he only sees me. That's one of the reasons I love him so much, even if he never gets it.

The buffets became the Big Deal. You can't get the most out of a buffet if you can only eat 6 - 8 bites of food, which is what my future meals would be after surgery. I wanted to hit a buffet every time we went out to dinner. Usually, whenever we went to one, one of us would load up a plate full of seafood and bring it back to the table for both of us. One time at a buffet in Oregon, two little boys around 8 years old, were watching me, completely wide-eyed, as I left the buffet and headed to our table with a great big pile of peel-and-eat shrimp.

"Big appetite!" giggled one of the boys, hand over his mouth. The other nodded his head in obvious admiration of my capacity. I told Robert when we got back to the table and it became a standard joke between us whenever we went to buffets.

But, it wasn't so far off the mark. I did have a Big Appetite, and buffets were going to be one of the things I thought I'd miss the most. Like an old friend I'd probably just see in passing, but not to really hang around with anymore.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to stop seeing you."
"But, why? We're great together!"
"No, no. You're a bad influence."
"But you love me!"
"Okay, maybe just one more slice of chocolate torte. But after that, we're through. You know how people talk."

This wasn't going to be easy.