Lose a Fatty

Totally me next summer, with rejoicing ankles. (Photo by Rebeca Gonçalves for Pexels.) I'm having gastric bypass surgery in September. But I want to make something clear. In first grade, one of my classmates sang the "Fat Albert" theme song at me when I came into the room. I'm not having surgery for him. In 2009, someone I love and trusted visited me under the guise of a surprise but really held what I can only call a one-woman fattervention. Our friendship never recovered. I am not having surgery for her. In 2014, a doctor refused to treat my hiatal hernia because I was too fat. "Read weight-loss stories on CNN.com and come back when you've lost 60 lbs.," she told me. I am not having surgery for her. In 2015, my then-gynecologist told me I had to lose weight and yelled at me when I was naked and vulnerable. She berated me and made me cry. I am not having surgery for her. Three years ago, a panhandler in Chicago told me to lose weight...

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about my first week or so trying the Whole30 program. The TL;DR version of Whole30 is that it's a "reset" that promises to regulate your gut and digestive hormones, reduce inflammation, send "Tiger Blood" (their term, not mine) coursing through your veins by the last week, and basically change your entire life. Imagine Cinderella before and after her meeting with her fairy godmother, where Whole30 is the godmother. All you have to do is cut out grains, gluten, legumes, sugar and dairy and you'll be a princess heading for the ball. Even foods with minute amounts of this stuff are out. No sausage unless it's sugar free. No salad dressings unless you make them yourself. No non-dairy creamer. No sugar substitutes. No booze. No weighing yourself during the 30 days and no tracking your food. And if you screw up? It's back to day one. I read the book from the program's creator at a delicate time. I'd just been at a ...