My first full year in Nashville was a momentous one. Here’s a look back in pictures of some of the highlights.
2022 was the year of the musical…..
I saw ten* live stage shows this year, nine of which were musicals, including my FIRST, SECOND, THIRD, FOURTH, and FIFTH shows on Broadway. (I never did a full write up of my second trip to NYC where I saw Funny Girl, A Strange Loop, and SIX, but maybe I will, because I still have thoughts.) I saw PATTI FREAKING LUPONE, Sutton Foster, Hugh Jackman, Beanie Feldstein, and Jane Lynch.
*Shows on Broadway: The Music Man, Company, Funny Girl, A Strange Loop, and Six; Broadway at TPAC: Mean Girls, Hamilton, Oklahoma!, and To Kill a Mockingbird; Nashville Rep: RENT
I wish I could afford to do this every year, but instead I will see every traveling show that I can at TPAC and most things that the Nashville Repertory Theatre does. Already have two shows on the books for early 2023!
2022 was the year of finally having bariatric surgery….
After a long wait, I finally had bariatric surgery. It’s been a journey, and I’m so glad to be on THIS side of things. I’ve lost almost 75 pounds since surgery, and almost 140 lbs since beginning this process. The best part of this journey is just FEELING better. While none of my numbers were in danger territory, they were all on the high end of normal pre-surgery, and 6 months post op my blood sugar, cholesterol, etc., are all on the lower end of normal. I feel in control around food and trust my body in ways I did not before.
2022 was the year of flying to LaGuardia thrice…..
I took the exact same flight to LaGuardia from Nashville three times this year (it was at 5:50 AM). I flew literally nowhere else all year either. Two trips to NYC one in January and May, and then a trip to NJ in August to see one of my besties and to finally meet my godson! I hadn’t been to NYC since 2006, so two and half times in one year was nuts!
2022 was the year of a Framily trip to Disney!
In October, my framily (friend family) went to Disney World, and a few of us went to Universal so that we could finally go to Harry Potter World (everyone else had gone before). It was exhausting, but SO much fun to a) experience my nephew’s first Disney-trip, b) to see how much easier these exhausting days were 100+ lbs lighter, and c) to see Disney with adult eyes with some of my favorite people.
2022 was the year of the book…
As I mentioned in my previous post, I read over 100 books this year, most of it new fiction!
2022 was a year that reinforced how very lucky I am to have a lot of amazing people in my life. A year with such big life changes required that I have a solid support system in place. I am truly rich in friendships. Thank you ❤
I read a lot of books this year. A LOT. My usual goal for my annual Goodread’s challenge is around 50 books, which I sometimes have handily accomplished and other times have woefully fallen short. I set the ambitious goal of 75 books this year as I read 90 books last year, but somehow, some way, I blew past the 75 books and read over 100 books. (101 at writing, but we still have 2 weeks in 2022. I predict 104.)
I’m not sure how or why I did this; I think maybe it’s a combo of factors. One–and this is a big one–I’m no longer in graduate school nor really working on academic work (sadface), so my reading energy is not depleted with academic reading and writing. Second, I have access to a pretty great library system so almost any book I want is available to me relatively quickly. I’ve also tapped into the bookstagram and bookTok worlds, and I get recs far more frequently than I did before.
Some notable facts about my 2022 reading habits:
I’m a genre loyalist. This should not be surprising. I read a LOT of romances. A LOT. So many. This year saw a higher number of contemporary romance than previous years, but romance is without a doubt my top genre. Mystery/thrillers also made a strong showing, with appearances by some fantasy romances, memoirs, and nonfiction.
Queer Romance is awesome. I love seeing what authors are doing with standard Romance tropes in queer relationships. My 2022 reading list featured a healthy dose of romances with same sex and or trans individuals in the lead roles.
I only re-read 9 books this year. I am a sworn fan of re-reading books. There are some that I visit in moments where I need emotional comfort. My re-reads this year mostly comprise a single series that I never finished and hadn’t read in ages–so it was essentially like reading a new book. (I think this predilection for re-reading may have slowed down my book count in previous years.)
I leaned into DNF’ing books. I usually can tell pretty quickly whether or not I will like a book and if it will pull me in. When I read, I’m looking for some level of escape or immersion–if stylistic quirks or failings pull me out of it, it’s usually pretty quick to tell. I’ve gotten better at letting go–even when I’ve made decent progress–when it’s just not for me. (Those books don’t count to my “read” count.)
So, without further ado, here are my top books that I read in 2022.
Top 10 Books, in no particular order
**I will say that few books on this list entered into the pantheon of “instant favorite” and prime re-read material. They were good and I enjoyed them, but not many insta-favorites.
The House on the Cerulean Sea, by TJ Klune: This book was a delightful, escapist found-family story/LGBTQ+ romance with a magical twist. The magical element was not overbearing or under-done, but rather provided a framework to explore society’s expectations of what and who people are based on categories over which they have no control.
A Lady for a Duke, by Alexis Hall: This is one of the books that I loved owing to the work the author did with expanding the genre of historical/regency romance. With a trans MC, the best friends turned lovers trope definitely took on a new life in the regency setting. The author said they were hoping to set up the romantic plot NOT to be centered around the character’s transness, and I’m not 100% sure they were successful in that, but I love seeing the inclusivity regardless. MORE LIKE IT.
A Court of Mist and Fury, by Sarah J. Maas (book 2 in ACOTAR) My sister has lowkey been trying to get me to read this for a while. I finally bit the bullet and read the first three books in this series. I couldn’t possibly savor them–I tore through the first three in less than a week. I still don’t know that the whole genre of fantasy romance is for me, but these books are addictive and this book was the best one. My biggest complaint is there were some anachronistic moments that made me wonder exactly the setting that we were in, but I think I’m just ruined because of my academic training.
All the Feels, by Olivia Dade: This series by Olivia Dade is great for its fat positive storylines, and this was my favorite book of the 3 I’ve read. I do think the primary setting of the series isn’t really my jam (the characters are all actors in a TV show that is Very Obviously Based on Game of Thrones, with strong elements of fanfic, fandom culture, that I just didn’t connect with). I’d love to see her write out of this framework.
Delilah Green Doesn’t Care, by Ashley Herring Blake: This book and its sequel, Astrid Parker Doesn’t Fail, were probably two of my favorite romances of the year. These sapphic novels just were full of emotion and depth and definitely fit the bill of delightfully escapist romance that I like. Based on what I’ve read so far, Herring Blake is entering my list of ‘always read.”
Still Life, by Louise Penny: At my Dad’s recommendation, I read the first book of Louise Penny’s Chief Inspector Gamache series (and subsequently read several others). A classic Christie-esque mystery series set in the fictitious town of Three Pines in Quebec, this is a fantastic mystery series that I will continue to read in 2023.
Killers of a Certain Age, by Deanne Rayborn: This book seemed like a step outside of my usual and was definitely a lot of fun. 4 soon-to-be retired lady assassins at around 60 years of age, discover that there are hits on their heads. I don’t usually do this, but one of my friends always casts actors in the roles of book characters. This book is BEGGING to be made into a movie and when it happens, I have some great suggestions for the casting director.
I’m Glad My Mom Died, by Jennette McCurdy: The title of this book is shocking, and deservedly so. It was a fascinating read, but it wasn’t really about her working through her gladness at her mother being dead, but more showing you the reasons why. As someone who has a lot of complicated feelings about my own mother’s death, I was looking forward to the unpacking of how you handle well, being glad your mom died. (Not that I am glad my mom died, but my life is in some respects easier now that she is gone. That requires some reckoning.) I kind of hope there’s a follow up in a few years.
Nine Nasty Words: English in the Gutter–Then, Now, and Forever, by Josh McWhorter: This book was a fascinating exploration of how English’s rudest words were formed and how their use has shifted over time. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, even if I have some disagreements (like, I don’t think a non-rhotic pronunciation of the n-word makes it a different word than the rhotic version, as he suggests at one point…though with lots of caveats.) [He also since penned a book that criticizes wokeness, that I have not read, but its premise is troubling.]
Stamped from the Beginning: the Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America, by Ibram X. Kendi: This book should be a must read for anyone in the US. It took me a lot longer to get through than it usually takes me because it is such a weighty topic.
Goals for 2023
Read more diversely. I mean this in a few ways. My read list this year was so romance heavy, it’s clear I have a type. But also, I should be reading more authors of color and non-US authors. I have a few ideas on how I can expand my reading horizons, especially in fiction. A read around the world challenge maybe(a book from every country)? Or pick a continent a year? Or something?
Read more non-fic. Non-fiction is a weird category for me. I don’t consider academic writing the same as popular non-fiction and I have a hard time figuring out how to incorporate academic reading into my reading habits when it’s not “work,” but I want to keep it up so my brain still works. I need to figure out new habits.
In the year leading up to my 30th birthday, I set myself an ambitious goal to lose 100 pounds before I turned 30. It was the first year of my life that I consistently worked out, but the progress on the scale was nonexistent. The entirety of my effort focused on adding activity, not shifting my eating habits.
In 2018, I did Whole 30, mainly as an experiment to see if I could drastically change my eating habits. For 30 days from October to November, I cut out added sugar, grains, dairy, legumes, and preservatives. The goal of this wasn’t to lose weight–in fact if you follow the program strictly you’re not allowed to weigh yourself–but at the end of that month I had lost 20 pounds. The entirety of my effort here was focused on controlling what I was eating.
While of course this evidence is anecdotal, I learned an important lesson through this. At least for me, if I wanted to lose weight, I needed to go to the kitchen, not the gym.
The truth to this has been proven to me time and time again since I started the process of getting approved for bariatric surgery in 2020. In the time between October 2020 until May 2021–in a time where I wasn’t going to the gym thanks to COVID–I lost 60+ pounds solely by controlling my eating.
Since having surgery in May 2022, I’ve had to focus on both the kitchen and the gym–plus so much more. It’s been a period of adjustments–new rules, new foods, new responses, new vitamins. So much new all at once. There have been times where I have mentally compared myself to a new mom AND a new baby. The mom has got a whole new thing to take care of that has a schedule all of its own and there’s a lot of new information for her to take in, but life goes on for everyone else. She’s tired, disoriented, and afraid to make a mistake. But on the other hand, I also felt like the baby, who has *feelings.* It doesn’t know what it wants, but it wants you to know it’s not happy. As someone who has not had a kid, this is the closest analogy I’ve been able to come up with to what life is like post bariatric surgery. Everything is new. (FWIW, I’ve named my new stomach Her Majesty.)
A little after the two month mark, I started feeling like I was finding solid ground. I’d been progressing out of all of the various stages of post-op diets and finally could eat, within reason, normal foods. I was starting to see progress both visually and on the scale. As a creature of habit, I was finally starting to feel settled after 2 month of straight up upheaval.
Right around the 2.5 month mark, I had my first post-surgery trip. After the first leg of my trip was done, I realized that travel itself had been worrying me more than it had in the past; another familiar thing made a stranger by this experience. Before surgery, I could just go and get food wherever. Now, there are certain goals I have to meet: get the requisite amount of protein (80g per day), drink the requisite amount of water (at least 64 oz), take all of my vitamins (way too many). Also for the first time since May 2022, I wouldn’t be fully in control of preparing my own meals–I would be a guest in someone else’s home. It was a lot to process and preparing to travel had me very nervous.
Fortunately, the trip was incredibly affirming and as per usual my anticipatory stress was unfounded. I was supported by those I was visiting. I felt at liberty to get what I needed and was able to adapt what was available to me to fit my needs. Even better, I was able to judiciously sample foods that I had not had before within reason. For example, one evening dinner was spaghetti and meatballs–I was able to eat a protein-packed dinner of ricotta, meatballs, and sauce AND try a few bites of pasta. The best part of trying these old (problem) foods was to see just how little would satisfy me. I was able to try pasta, bread, and even bites of bagel and brownie in the perfect environment. I did not need to bring these troublesome treats into my home and I was stealing bites from those willing to share.
The feeling of empowerment this trip gave me was a huge boon–to my mental health and to my overall satisfaction. I am no longer feeling quite like the new-mom/baby combo; rather, I know I’m in control. The week I got back, I had my 3 month post-op appointment (2 weeks before the actual 3-month mark). I told them about my travel and what I had eaten–slightly fearful they would tell me I had done something wrong. I had also been concerned because I have had very few poor reactions to food. However, they told me I was doing everything ‘correctly’ and the reason that I hadn’t had any poor reactions was likely because I wasn’t eating too much of these foods. Problems–quelle surprise–usually happen when eating these foods in excess.
Beyond these non-scale victories (NSVs), my travel also made me aware of many other such victories. I am able to move my body more easily: I navigated NYC subway turnstiles with my fat body and a suitcase with so much more ease; I did not need a seatbelt extender when I flew; in general, I felt like my body took up less space and attracted less attention from those around me. I gloried in each one.
All of these positive realizations seemed to spawn even more. Since then, I have been able to do more in barre, achieving positions that I had not been able to do previously. I haven’t had a nap in ages. I have energy and concentration the likes of which I haven’t had before. Then, this week, I achieved one of my goals that I wanted to reach by 3 months post-op: I have lost 100 lbs from my highest weight, when I started this journey in October of 2020.
100 lbs seems such an incredibly large number of pounds to have lost. For comparison, here are some things that weigh 100 lbs: a baby hippo (55-120 lbs); grown Rottweilers (95-120 lbs); a 2-month old foal; around 12 gallons of water; 119 cans of soda; and a mother effing cheetah. The mind boggles. In my appointment, I marveled at the doctor about how much easier I was finding every-day things. She remarked that people–especially those who have been morbidly obese for a while–often drastically underestimate the toll that the weight makes on the body. (She did note that not all bodies are built the same and have different limits. I know this seems contradictory to a lot of fat people’s experience in the world of medicine, but some of the best–most humane–treatment I’ve received by doctors has been in the bariatric space.)
The past 3 months have not been easy, but I feel like I’ve turned a corner. I’m not suggesting it will all be sunshine and puppies from here on out, but I feel in control and excited to test out this new normal. I’ve done something I honestly never thought I’d be able to do–the majority all on my own without the help of surgery. All of the NSVs, and to be sure, the scale victory, too, have given me an unexpected boost of confidence.
I’m looking forward the victories and challenges that the next 3 months will bring.
May of 2022 will perhaps go down in history as one of the impactful months of my life. To sum up, I started the month in Bloomington after a quick visit to see some of my BTown loves. About a week or so later, I went to NYC for a conference, and ended that trip by seeing THREE BROADWAY SHOWS with one of my besties (blogs forthcoming on both her blog and mine), and then immediately upon returning home, I began my pre-op liquid diet.
Before I knew it, it was May 23rd the date of my scheduled Roux-En-Y gastric bypass. On of my besties Ashley agreed to be my person at the hospital and I asked her to aggressively document and to contribute to this blog with stuff I couldn’t or wouldn’t remember. Thanks, boo.
Ashley’s stuff is in teal.
The 7-Day PreOp Liquid Diet
On May 15, I had my last Before meal. It was nothing exciting—I definitely gave a tasteful goodbye to food in NYC. It was strange to think about how something as routine as eating food would not be part of my next month or so and how my habits, hopefully, would never be quite the same.
In order to prepare for my surgery, I had to follow a very strict liquid diet for seven days. On this diet I could only consume protein shakes (4-5 times a day), broth, water, sugar free popsicles or jello, and decaf coffee or tea. THAT IS IT. NO VARIATIONS. Drinking off that strict list could put my surgery in jeopardy.
I was expecting this week to really suck. I spent a long time prepping mentally for this week as well. I convinced myself that it was going to be a fun experiment in not having to do dishes for a week (that def worked, yay laziness). I had heard wild stories about this phase—the one that sticks with me is a woman who was cooking dinner for her kids and just desperately wanted to lick her kid’s pizza just to taste the salty cheesy grease. This phase seemed to be the one that people struggled with the most.
I didn’t have a terrible experience. The first day was not bad. The second day, as my doctor warned me, was AWFUL. I was tired, achey, and emotional. I cried in front of my boss. I had a headache and felt like literal and physical shit.
Day 3 through 7, however, felt totally fine. A creature of habit, I quickly developed a routine that worked. Put some decaf espresso in my first protein shake in the morning for a delicious faux latte. Drank another protein shake at noon and at dinner time. Depending on how I felt, I’d usually have one in the afternoon or at night after dinner.
Weirdly, I’m a little nostalgic for this period now because it was SO EASY to drink that fluid. I also can’t stand the protein shakes I had pre-op. Now, post surgery, drinking liquid and getting protein is a struggle. It was so easy to get that protein!
One of the most emotional days of this process was the day before my surgery. I was nervous, excited, and pondered whether I was crazy to be doing this. It was a Sunday so I cleaned my house and made it as ready as I could to not really be cleaned for a few weeks since I didn’t know how long it would take me to recover. I read a book. I cried. I pondered some more.
It ended on a high note, though! I went to get Ashley, who was going to be my person at the hospital. We watched a movie I’ve needed to watch for a LONG time and then tried to go to bed a decent hour since the next day we had to be up EARLY.
I can’t even say it was BRIGHT and early because it was pitch black dark as night when we left the next morning. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t sleep well. I had to chug a thing of gatorade before leaving, but we managed to leave my house at about 5:15 AM to get to the hospital at 5:30 AM. I checked in, then waited for maybe 20 minutes before getting called back to the pre-op prep area.
This is where my anxiety really started to climb. I had to don the operating gown; pee in a cup; got my IV hooked up; people asked me my name, birthdate, what surgery I was having precisely 100 times; chatted with my surgeon, nurses, anesthesiologist, etc.
You did NOT seem overly anxious! You seemed very calm and matter of fact about everything.
Everyone was so nice, and efficient. What a seemingly well-orchestrated machine they have going on.
I may be projecting, but sometimes when people asked “And who do you have with you today?” it felt like they were expecting “partner” or “sister”, but I was just “friend” — and not that they had a LOT of surprise on their faces, but there were moments where I got the impression that wasn’t the answer they were expecting?
(I also got this impression.)
Remember we thought the anesthesiologist may have been attractive? He was nerding out with you about art history, seemed about our age, maybe a tad younger, had kind eyes. And then I found him on the hospital website….. and it was NOT a flattering photo. At least he turned out to be good at his job!
He totally WAS nerding out with me about art history. He had an MA in art history and you could tell he still really loved it. I called myself a “failed art historian” and he said, “well, in that case we both are, and we’re not doing too bad.” Or something like that.
Eventually, it was time. I don’t actually remember saying goodbye to Ashley, though I’m sure I did (she says we high-fived!), or being rolled down the hall to the surgical suite. I DO remember being in the surgical suite and remarking “IS THAT THE ROBOT?” (I had a robotic laparoscopic procedure) and having it confirmed that it was the robot and that one of the nurses showed me where the surgeon would sit to control the robot. And that’s all I remember of before.
The older nurse, with the long hair, very hippie dippie, was soooo sweet and was just bragging on you when I got to recovery. She said you were basically a model textbook patient. Gold stars across the board. Great pre-op weight loss, a perfectly tiny liver, no issues at all going under or coming out (though you were slow to come off it). She was VERY pleased and told me all about it 🙂
Your face looked like grumpy cat for a solid hour.
Apparently, I took a while to wake up afterwards, but my first memory was having two nurses fussing over me and not being very happy about it. I think slowly I realized Ashley was there too. I think I became moderately happy that yay, I hadn’t died on the table (a small risk, but nevertheless one that had worried me). The pain was not too bad, but I was definitely uncomfortable. They had placed an abdominal binder on me and I wanted it OFF. I felt a lot better after it was off, but I still was pretty grumpy in recovery.
Embarrassing/funny story: So after surgery, before they admit you to your room, you need to pee. They pump you full of fluids so usually after surgery your bladder is full. However, since they essentially temporarily paralyzed you for a few hours, your bladder doesn’t always get the message, so they have to drain your bladder with a catheter. WELL. This happened to me. I tried to pee IN FRONT OF THE HIPPY NURSE and it just wasn’t happening. Well, as they were situating everything they asked me to lift my hips and I did, apparently really well—because the nurse said, “nice hip lift!” And I—grumpily and somewhat arrogantly told them “I DO BARRE.”
After recovery, it was time to be admitted. Two nurses came to transport you and I followed with all of our stuff. We chatted with them along the walk, about all sorts of random things including hairstyles and how much they walk around in a day.
We had to trek pretty far and I would have gotten lost if I wasn’t walking with y’all. They pushed your bed manually, until we got out of one of the elevators and to a very long, UPHILL hallway. They pushed the bed into this motorized contraption that pushed the bed for them and we slowly made our way from one building to the other, to go into the children’s hospital… which was REALLY nice and like a total scene change. The nurse you were assigned over there was kinda sassy and reminded me of our friend Lin in her speech patterns and mannerisms. I could tell you were in good hands with her!
Bladder drained, I moved to my room, which was a lot nicer and more private than I was expecting. My room was in the children’s hospital (I later found out that they keep adult patients who are stable there—bariatric patients, orthopedic patients and the like). Not too long after getting to my room, Ashley headed back home and I was in for the night. It was a continuous cycle of sleeping, getting woken up every few hours to be poked and prodded and get meds, drinking water, peeing, and walking around.
In order to go home, I needed to demonstrate that I could keep myself hydrated, that I could walk, and that my pain was under control. Walking wasn’t hard. I wasn’t in too much pain, though I definitely had some discomfort on both of my sides. The hardest bit was honestly getting in the liquids. They gave you four little 1-oz cups and you had to try to drink four of those cups in an hour with tiny little sips repeatedly. It was DIFFICULT. They also brought soup and jello (no thank you) at dinner, breakfast, and lunch time—though I was not interested in any of it.
For my first ever hospital stay, it really wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t in nearly as much pain as I expected, walking around was easier than I thought, but I was a little frustrated I couldn’t just sleep. The nurses were a delight. My last nurse didn’t want me to go home and said I was a “good one.” I got to go home around 1 PM.
Home & Recovery
The ride home was honestly one of the most painful things so far, largely thanks to NASHVILLE’S VERY BUMPY ROADS AND CONSTRUCTION. #potholeseverywhereallthetime
COME ON NASHVILLE FIX THE GD POTHOLES
At home, my cats pretty much immediately glommed onto me and I developed a very lazy routine where I wore the loosest fitting clothes possible (soft dresses and nightgowns), tried to get my water, vitamins, and protein in, and mostly failing that first week (as expected). However, before my one week post-op appointment, I had already stopped taking my pain meds and generally was feeling great. I tired easily, but all in all, I wasn’t feeling too bad. I began wondering if surgery wasn’t so bad, and the first week wasn’t so bad, maybe the transition to soft food is the super hard part?
After two weeks, I moved on to soft foods. I could now eat yogurt, cottage cheese, ricotta cheese, refried beans, vegetarian chili, tuna (YUCK), and vegetables that could easily be cut with a fork. I didn’t have any problems with this transition to soft food–the only thing that occasionally makes my stomach hurt is water–it’s sometimes hard to remember that I can’t take as big of sips as I used to do.
Right now, I’m about a week into the transition to solid/normal food. I was excited to eat a vegetable, something I have not had since May, but I still struggle to eat all my protein. From here on out, I will eat my protein first, then veg, then carb and I will have to pay close attention to my portion sizes and make sure that I listen to my body as I eat. I am starting to wonder if THIS transition from such a strict diet to “regular food” is the hard part—and it’s going to last for the rest of my life! Again it came with a learning curve, but so far it is progressing, slowly but surely as I learn my new limits.
On June 23, I reached a month post-op and am officially cleared to do fun things like zumba (yay!) and get into pools and hottubs! I need to wait a little bit longer for core-centric activities like barre and water aerobics (I love the outdoor classes at the Y in the summer!), but I’m fine waiting a bit on that.
Surgery Done: As I’ve been prepping for this for so long, it’s been wild to actually experience it and be done with the “surgery” part of the journey. It’s done and in the past—no longer something to anticipate.
Physical Restriction: It’s strange to feel the physical restriction. It changes something as basic as how you drink water. This makes it really difficult to get the appropriate amount of water in—at least 64 oz of water a day. It’s gotten easier over the past month but every once in a while I forget and gulp down a sip of water and OW. It does not feel good.
I have decided to name my stomach “Her Majesty” because when she has opinions she demands that you listen to them.
Habit Changes: Both my liquid diet and my post op experience so far has really highlighted how much of what I considered previously as hunger was mind hunger. I imagine this too will be a continuous journey and process of learning. I am physically not hungry and that in and of itself is a weird sensation.
Before, I habitually would eat my meals in a fashion that would save the “best” bite for last. The one that had the perfect combo and ratio of ingredients. Now, I 100% eat that bite FIRST.
There are times where I feel like a teeny tiny baby that’s on a very strict feeding schedule, and sometimes that baby doesn’t want any more protein, but that baby really doesn’t want to lose more hair than she has to (as is typical for most bariatric patients 3-6 months post op, because of the surgical trauma and lack of protein, but then it comes back). And that can be frustrating.
All in all, I am incredibly glad to be done with the surgery part of this journey. But so much of this is still mental and it’s going to be a process and I have a lot to learn about myself and my new tumtum.
A huge, huge thanks to my sisters-from-other-misters, Ashley and Tina, and my Nashville family, Sherra, Winn, Justin, and Arthur, for checking in on me and making sure I had all I needed. Your support was so valuable and I love you all to pieces. Thanks too to my family and friends who were far away–experiences like this really do show a person just how lucky they are.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot lately, with the impending celebration of Mother’s Day and my upcoming surgery.
Since she died 5 years ago, any time big personal changes loomed on the horizon I have felt that familiar swell of emotion that seems to be located somewhere between my stomach and my lungs, overwhelming me physically and mentally. This sensation can last for mere minutes or even long hours.
As I would imagine is normal, I imagine how she would react to these changes and achievements. Sometimes it’s easy to imagine her reactions.
When I defended my dissertation, she would have been proud and so pleased to see the culmination of years and years of work at last at its joyful end.
She’d have celebrated as I taught my first (and probably only) study abroad course (something I always wanted to do!) in Italy in May 2019.
She’d have hurrah’ed when I landed my first post-PhD job (with benefits!) at the Institute.
She would have been proud, excited, and disappointed when I got a job at Vanderbilt and moved to Nashville. Disappointed, because I wasn’t moving back to Virginia, choosing my Nashville family “over her” (that’s how she’d see it), but still she’d have been proud and excited for my accomplishments. She loved me.
But…as my surgery date approaches, I am having a hard time picturing how she’d react to this choice and new frontier.
Mom could—at times—let her own emotional hang-ups color her response to things going on in my and my siblings’ lives. Would her own struggles with her weight have influenced her reaction to my weight-loss goals? Would she have been less supportive than she’d have liked, whether intentionally or not? Would she, as she was sometimes wont to do with others who had gone through similar procedures, make snide comments about my potential to fail or relapse? Would her encouragement be a little too cloying, her smile a little too bright, suggesting that she didn’t actually believe what she was saying? Or worse, and definitely possible, would she barely attempt to contain her unique blend of judgment and jealousy?
On the other hand, she may have reacted excitedly, full of support and pride. She did often tell me to try to lose weight before I got too old, because the older you get the harder it is and the more physically painful it is to try to take it off. My mother lived with daily pain in her joints and back, moving, sitting, and existing was a struggle. I know that this physical pain manifested itself emotionally too. I know she’d want me to avoid that. So perhaps knowing that I will avoid some of that pain in my life would make her happy for me.
But at the same time…would she have even realized that her reality was the very future I am trying to avoid? Even worse, would the idea that I was trying to avoid becoming like her— to not share this daily pain and struggle—give her (more) emotional pain?
In some ways, her death has made this easier. The risk of not taking steps is clear. I need to go on this journey for my own mental and physical well-being. Because I will never know how she would actually react, I can choose to imagine her response as loving and supportive as I would like it to be at any given moment.
However, this too is a hard emotional line to walk, because in reacting this way, her death becomes akin to a gift. One that has allowed me both the freedom to act without causing her hurt and provided me the motivation to change….
How could her death ever be a gift?
Right now, I like to think that my choice to pursue a WLS and strive for a healthy life honors both her life and her death. My mother wasn’t perfect. (I mean, whose mother is?) In many ways, I am on this obesity-related journey because she was. Since, in the long run, my mother would want the best for me, I’d like to think that she’s pleased by my choice to move forward with a gastric bypass, hopeful that it will work, but fearful that it will not.
Finally, I have a date for my surgery, and it will take place in late May.
I’ve decided to answer some questions here that I have been asked often since deciding to go through surgery, and a few I think people probably have even if they haven’t asked directly. I plan to update this at a few points after surgery to compare.
Q: What made you decide to get bariatric surgery? This seems drastic.
It was a decision that was simultaneously gradual and all at once. I didn’t realize until recently how long it had been in my head. Ultimately though, there were several factors that led me to this decision and kicked my butt into gear.
I’ve seen very clearly what can happen if I don’t get certain habits under control through my mom’s example. This is a thing I’ve known for a long time, but have not been very successful altering on my own or with many of the “commercial” options out there (noom, weight watchers, etc). I am an emotional overeater. I can literally draw lines between certain life changes and stressors to moments when I gained weight, exactly 20 lbs each time in most cases. This incremental growth is not unlike what I saw happen to my mom. I wanted to break the cycle.
As for the timing, several things all became really clear to me when I turned 35 a few months into the pandemic. There are things I want in my life and I was tired of feeling stalled. I had gained a pandemic 30 (more than my usual 20). I want a kid. I want to be more active and I didn’t want to tire quite so easily. I know that you can do and be all of these things while being fat.
It is hard to be in my body physically as it presently exists. Of course, lots of the external things that make it hard could be (and should be) shifted to easily make room for bigger bodies—seats on planes, societal expectations, etc. However, there were lots of internal things. I was beginning to feel constraints—things that were harder than they used to be because of my size. Some recurring issues that were directly caused by being overweight. I didn’t always feel as stable on my feet. It was becoming harder to get up and get down and get comfortable.
I have always been fairly physically active–and I’ve definitely kicked that up since 2019. This past week, I danced my ass off for 2 hours with no breaks with 3 super high-energy dance instructors. Every jump, every skip, every move, while carrying double the weight of the people around me. It’s, I can only imagine, doubly exhausting.
I knew all of these problems wouldn’t get better with age, and I want to get myself in the best shape possible for (hopefully) pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood, and just simply for the rest of my life. I want to have more endurance. I’d like to be able to walk farther, go longer, and dance harder. I’d like to trust my body to be capable of things it hasn’t and hadn’t been able to do in the past.
Q: What procedure are you having? What were your choices?
There are two types of surgeries that were on the table: a roux-en-y gastric bypass and a sleeve gastrectomy.
Both surgeries, in essence, make the stomach smaller reducing the amount of food you can consume in a sitting. Neither surgery is a magic pill and neither will work without hard work on the part of the patient to change various behaviors.
A sleeve gastrectomy involves removing the lower part of the stomach so that it resembles a sleeve and is vaguely the shape of a banana. The pros to this surgery is that it is less invasive; it’s a shorter surgery and a simpler procedure. The cons are that it tends to not work as well—folks frequently regain the weight and or need surgical revision to a bypass; it can make worse or cause new acid reflux problems; and the weight loss tends to not be as profound.
The RNY Gastric Bypass is more involved. It makes a small pouch out of the stomach and connects the small pouch to the small intestines thus bypassing most of the stomach, the pyloric sphincter, and the intestinal duodenum. The pros are that the weight loss is more profound and sustained over time and it can often cure GERD/acid reflux. The cons are that it is a more complicated procedure, and thus more dangerous.
Both surgeries tend to see obesity-related illnesses and side-effects reversed or see them under control, like Type II diabetes and high-blood pressure. (On the other side of the coin, 15% of people who go through weight loss surgery become alcoholics. They replace food with booze.)
I am having a RNY gastric bypass. I have had issues with reflux caused by postnasal drip/allergies, so the sleeve wasn’t a great choice. Additionally, at the beginning of my weight loss surgery journey, if I lost 200 lbs, I would still be considered overweight (according to BMI calculators, which is of course, a questionable indicator of health).
Q: What is your goal weight?
I don’t have a goal weight and contrary to what a lot of people think, my doctors have not given me one. Generally, you can expect to lose 70-80% of your excess weight. For me, that would be around a loss of 100 lbs post surgery, and I’ve already lost 56 lbs in the prep stage.
I think my goal would be around 120 lbs post surgery. This, as absurd as it may seem, would still put me in the overweight part of the BMI chart.
Q: You lost weight before surgery, why not just do it naturally/why are you taking the easy way out?
Dude, this is hard. I lost 56 lbs, but since moving, I have maintained but not lost much. I’m okay with this, and I see this as success in and of itself. The more weight you have to lose, the more stalls you have and the easier it is to backslide. I’ve seen the reality of this in the months since moving to Nashville. Surgery is a tool to help me both lose weight, but most importantly, to assist me in getting some unhealthy habits under control. The program I went through helped me to, for the first time in my life, NOT gain 20 lbs during a major life change. I eat relatively healthily, I work out three times a week and I’ve seen no movement (in inches or lbs).
Q: What did you have to do before surgery to qualify?
The first time around: I had to do 6 months of supervised weight loss, a psychological evaluation, an appointment with a nutritionist/dietician, and several meetings with my surgeon.
The second time around: 12 independent meetings that could consist of meetings with my surgeon, dietician, a psych evaluation, screening for sleep apnea, etc. The meetings from my previous office counted toward the 12. I had to do the psych evaluation over again and that definitely was frustrating, and took a very long time to get straight.
Q: What is recovery like?
This seems to vary widely. I will stay in the hospital at least one night, and then will be off work for at least a week. My work is an office job and I work primarily from home, so I’ll play the weeks after that first week by ear.
The surgery will be done by robotic laparoscopy so it won’t be full open/large incisions, but several smaller incisions. Some people bounce back quickly, others take longer.
It’s hard to know where I will fall! I’ve only had one minor surgery on my hand, not much pain, but sleepiness. This is entirely different.
Q: How have you been preparing mentally and physically for the surgery?
Oh boy, the prepping mentally is really what it is all about. I’ve been working toward getting this surgery since October of 2020. The surgery is not a magic pill. It will not make my bad food habits disappear. I see both surgery and therapy as co-tools to becoming a healthier version of myself.
Physically, I have just tried to stay active and hydrated, both things that will help me recover faster.
Q: What will you be able to eat post surgery?
This is a process.
Before surgery, I have to go on a liquid diet for a week, drinking 4 to 5 protein shakes a day, plus at least 64 oz of other liquid such as water, broth, etc. This liquid diet helps shrink the liver before surgery and prepare the stomach for surgery (which the surgeon has to move aside to perform the procedure).
After surgery I will be on a liquid diet for 2 weeks, followed by 2 weeks of soft foods, and then I’ll move on to ‘normal’ foods, which will be dictated by what I can tolerate. Soft foods will be things like yogurt, refried beans, ricotta bake, etc. Once I’m back on “normal foods” I may have issues with fattier meats and “stringy” vegetables. People tend to have a hard time processing things that are ‘tough,” fatty, rich, or sugary—a good thing.
Q: What other potential side effects are there?
It’s a surgery so there are plenty of risks that come with going through a procedure and under anesthesia. To mitigate these risks I get to go through a bunch of pre-surgical screening.
After surgery, there’s the risk of ulcers and hernia as well as nausea for a while as I adapt. I will also be susceptible to what is called Dumping Syndrome (it sounds awful) and is a good motivator for sticking to the plan. I will likely lose some hair temporarily 2-3 months after surgery (I might be more nervous about this than all the other things).
Q: What other lifestyle changes are there?
There are some things post-surgery that I will have to do forever.
I will need to keep meals to around 1 cup of food at a time for the rest of my life.
I will take a vitamin regimen for the rest of my life in order to avoid becoming deficient.
I will need to not drink 30 minutes before or 30 minutes after eating–as the stomach’s lower sphincter will no longer be there, drinking that close to eating will cause me to become hungrier sooner. (You can take tiny sips.)
One of the hardest is that I will no longer be able to use ibuprofen (my chosen pain reliever) or other NSAIDs post surgery because the risk of ulcers will be too high.
Carbonation will forever be a no no–it can stretch my stomach and lead toward overeating and slipping back into bad habits.
Q: Is there anything you think you will miss about your pre-surgery self?
Sure. I definitely have thought about how right now my identity is as a fat person. I like me. I like who I am and it will be weird to lose that part of my identity, and to look different than I have my entire life.
I will also miss eating cake. (After I am pretty far out from surgery, I may be able to have some cake again, but sparingly, and only a few bites.)
Q: What do you look forward to post surgery?
Honestly, at this point, I am looking forward to it being done and being past this limbo moment. Having to go through the approval process twice under two different programs and insurances has been frustrating.
I am looking forward to seeing how I look after weight loss, but in a very analytical rather than vain kind of way. I’m astounded at how different people look in their before and afters. I’m curious to see–will I look more like my mom when she was younger? More like my sister? Just myself with less fluff? Or will I look mostly the same?
Q: What are some weird things that have come up that you did not expect as part of surgery?
Do you have other questions? If so, let me know!
This post is not intended to be medical advice. Any and all discussions about your own post-op bariatric care or the choice to have bariatric surgery should be had with your own doctor.WLS is a choice that every individual should make for themselves. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s okay. Big is beautiful, wonderful, and strong. I am lucky to have had really excellent medical care that hasn’t been–as far as I can tell–negatively impacted by fatphobia. I know this is not everyone’s situation. This was a choice I made and one that I brought up to my PCP, not the other way around. She helped me talk through some of the pros and cons, as well as some other medical weight loss options (such as drugs that encourage weight loss), and made it clear she supported whatever decision I made–even if it was to be none of the above.
It had been a rough year in grad school: qualifying exams, first major research trip, first fellowship cycle, and dissertation proposal all just spiraled together to create a total existential storm in my brain.
After putting a lot of work into my mental health, I entered 2016 in a much better place, but I knew I needed to do something. Something that wasn’t related to graduate school. Something that was both productive and satisfying and that didn’t bear the weight of my personal hopes and expectations.
I needed a hobby.
I fretted about what to do for a while. Reading, which had always been my go-to escape, was no longer filling that void, since so much of my time was otherwise occupied with words, both consuming and producing. Sitting down to read fiction, even the really craptastic kind, just didn’t inspire the desired and expected effect. Reading was at once too active and too passive an activity to fill this need. TV and podcasts were too passive. Too. Passive. I needed to move my hands, do something productive. Maybe I needed to make something.
In college, I very much enjoyed crafting. One of my favorite things to do was to make crafts and goodies for people in my sorority. My favorite of these craftivities was making letter shirts. This process involved finding cute fabrics, tracing the letters, cutting them out, ironing the letters onto t-shirts, and then puffy-painting or sewing the letters on the t-shirt.
But in grad school, my need for sorority puffy letter shirts, or handmade t-shirts of any kind, was at an all-time low.
So I stalled.
I tried adult coloring books. For a time that filled that need, to a point. Coloring was really good for shutting the brain down, when I needed quiet. But it didn’t satisfy my need to create.
I tried knitting. It seemed to have a pretty steep learning curve–so many different stitches and it takes a while to see a result–and the results at first are, sorry to say, rather boring. And limited to a rather circumscribed group of crafts. Yarn also just didn’t do it for me. It didn’t fill me with joy.
Then, I remembered that fabric acquisition was by far one of my favorite steps of crafting in college. What could I do with a whole mess of fabric? What could I do that would permit me to acquire MORE fabric?
It hit me suddenly and all at once: I would make a quilt.
Did I have a sewing machine or any previous sewing experience?
Did that deter me?
Choose my own adventure quilting
I remember looking up a wikiHow on “how to put together a quilt,” just to get the basic gist. I needed to make a quilt top, a quilt bottom, and get a layer of batting (the fluffy stuff that goes in between the quilting cotton to make the quilt warm), sandwich them together, and then bind the edges. In classic me fashion, I immediately decided to go to Joann’s and get some fabric and to make a quilt that I would hand sew in its entirety.
I had no idea what I needed. I was probably like a contestant from Supermarket Sweep in the Joanns. I came home with a ridiculous amount of fabric, some thread, batting, fabric scissors, some needles, a self-healing mat, and a rotary cutter.
Since I was doing it by hand, I wasn’t super invested in making a fancily pieced quilt, a simple patchwork would do. I didn’t want to follow a pattern, because I typically don’t like, and am not always good at, following directions (this says something about me, I think, and I can’t tell if it’s good or bad).
Ultimately though, my choice to not use a pattern was because I wanted to test my creative juices, and not just follow someone’s instructions, and risk it becoming a frustrating exercise when it did not turn out exactly as imagined or if I found the instructions wanting. That would be the exact opposite effect of what I was going for. Hobbies should be fun and enjoyable and rewarding.
So I cut all of my fabric into 4 in. by 4 in. squares. All of it, every fabric that I bought, regardless if I thought it was going to go in the quilt. (This was a mistake, I still have a bunch of fabric that is essentially useless unless it needs to be a 4×4 square or smaller.) I loved figuring out how to balance the colors and patterns worked with one another. It felt like a puzzle and I was hooked.
I slowly sewed the rows together, by hand, learning as I go, my stitches becoming progressively neater as I pieced the quilt. I shared on Instagram that I was making a quilt and learned I needed to press my seams from a friend, something I wouldn’t have thought of doing on my own. As I sewed, I learned.
Every time I make a quilt now, I feel like I spend more and more time pressing my seams and I always think about young-quilter me who didn’t even know it was a thing I should do.
It was exactly what I needed as a craft at that time. It let me make something, my brain resetting as I sewed, watching the rows come together, the rows becoming the quilt top. I was thrilled with the result of the quilt top–I thought it was so pretty and I was afraid that I would ruin it in the next steps.
I basted the three layers together, the backing, the batting, and then the top. It was time to quilt. Now, this is a controversial opinion, but I don’t think you can say you quilt unless you actually do the quilting, the sewing of the layers together. These days a lot of people sew their quilt tops, then send it to a longarmer to finish. Those are piecers, not quilters. (I kid, I kid.)
I didn’t fully appreciate the quilting process until several quilts later. For my first quilt, I used the same thread that I used for the piecing to do the quilting. For my second quilt, I decided to use colored bold hand-quilting thread. Eventually, the quilting became my favorite part. It wasn’t until my fifth and sixth quilts that I realized how I liked to do hand quilting…with embroidery floss. I like a nice bold line, and there’s so much fun to be had adding this detail.
After finishing the quilting, it’s time to do the binding. Now, the binding is definitely the area where my hesitancy to look up how to do things and follow instructions worked to my disadvantage. I did my best to figure it out, but the way my brain “solved” the problem was not the best way to bind the quilt. I don’t think I properly learned how to do the binding until like the last 3 or 4 quilts or projects. I made it a lot harder for myself. I don’t mind how my early quilts’ binding turned out from a stylistic pov, but damn–it’s a lot easier now that I know how to do it for real.
The Result: A Quilter for Life
My first quilt really does represent a lot about my personal style, even if it’s not how I would do it today.
It’s primarily pink, white, and grey, one of my favorite color combos. (It reminds me of my cat, Livia, too.) It is floral and doesn’t shy away from patterns. Some of the prints are watercolor, another typical favorite of mine. It has a textured white-on-white fabric, another Charlotte-standard. Lastly, one of the prints has what I like to call the bougie-Paris aesthetic; watercolor, flowers, and antique postal text, that says Paris.
I’m a sucker for anything French, Paris, or evocative of things that make me think of France in springtime. Were I to do it over again, the binding would not be this old school Charlotte style of binding, but the correct way. I also would totally have a crap-ton of colored embroidery all up in that bitch.
It, like all my quilts, is imperfect. Regardless if a quilt has misaligned seams or uneven stitches, or even in some cases a messed up pattern, it is still beautiful and whole. I had a grad school mantra “perfection is the enemy of the good” and I never really believed it until I began quilting. I love and cherish (most) mistakes on my final quilts. Quilting helped me focus my energies–both positive and negative–into a productive and enjoyable pursuit.
I didn’t know it when I finished this quilt, but this hobby would save me and my mental health time and time again. A few months after I completed it, my mom died. I had started a quilt for my sister before mom died, and it is with that quilt, and the quilt for my other sibling, that I focused my grief for my mom and the family that we had been before. These quilts were a work of love for my siblings, and for my mom. Into each quilt I am able to put into concrete form the love I have for the person it is meant for.* However, it also reminds me of the love and confidence I should have for myself. The quilts that I have made, imperfect though they are, remind me of what I am capable of doing while making something beautiful for those that mean the most to me.
*(FYI: if I’ve made you or your kid a quilt or a craft, there’s a good chance you’re in my top tier of important and loved people. If I haven’t made you a quilt/craft yet and you think you’re in my top tier, calm down, these bitches take time.)
To date, I’ve made 9 quilts with several more in progress. For my own fun, I’ve put together a catalog of sorts of my quilting projects with pix and eventually commentary.
It’s America’s city. I think most Americans have strong feelings about it, details about this place are baked into our cultural consciousness without our even trying. You either love it or you hate it.
The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. The city so nice they named it twice.
Until 2022, I had only been to New York City once, in 2006 for a choir trip. It was a good trip and I had a blast, but it very much was not a self-directed trip. I was with a large group most of the time and a small group of folks for the rest. I was a broke college kid so I definitely could only do so much exploring and experiencing.
As a part of my research travels, I have been to most of Europe’s biggest cities, checking off collection after quintessential collection of Roman art. If you had told young me that I would have managed to go to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen before making it to The Met, I don’t think I’d have believed you. Alas…
So in 2022 when I was finally heading to New York City to see one of my dearest friends and to see my first Broadway shows, I knew that I would finally have a chance to do New York City more the way I wanted to do it.
GOALS FOR TRIP
Most of these adventures were had with my friend, Katie, who lives in NYC, so by that very fact it was a great trip. You can read all about my first Broadway shows, which were totally amazing and perfect. It was a life-changing weekend, where I existed in the presence of some of my favorite performing humans.
That NYC Experience
I love being in a city. The hustle and bustle. The architecture, the sites, the smells, even the bad ones. There is something about a city that when you figure out how to navigate it, you just feel like you’re so in control and independent. Some cities work with you to make it happen (others work against you and are hard to navigate–these are frustrating cities).
New York is probably the most easily navigated city I’ve been to yet. It’s the griddy-est of grid cities. It’s relatively straightforward to mark the cross-section of your destination and move in the correct direction (To be fair: I’m not sure how this plays out in boroughs other than Manhattan). The buses and subway are all relatively straightforward, especially with google maps. They’ve also introduced a new ticketing system called OMNY that lets you just tap your card to pay your fare rather than needing to purchase a separate card (really a relief for the visitor). After a couple of days, I felt confident that I could navigate anywhere I needed to go without much stress.
I had done some Midtown exploration back on my first visit in 2006, but I had no real idea of where I was going (someone else was almost always navigating during that trip because they knew the city better). In 2006, I also had only really explored one major city by myself (Paris, and well, I guess D.C., which was near home). Since then, I have navigated London, Berlin, Munich, Copenhagen, Paris (again and again and again), Rome, Naples, Florence, Venice, Athens, and many other cities, all by myself. Being able to guide myself around New York and definitely seeing it with “grown-up” eyes was great, and it let me see its many strengths that 20-year-old me was not able to see (and to be fair, its weaknesses).
Without even trying, I imagine most Americans have general cultural knowledge of New York City’s sites and offerings, more than they possibly realize. I am no different, and it was great to wander the streets of NYC, even if it was painfully cold for half of my trip. The worst was definitely the Saturday of my visit, when the high for the day was 16*. Way too cold for comfortable walking around. Way too cold. I can’t wait to go back and explore in more comfortable temperatures. I’ll be able to give Central Park more than a passing glance. I’ll feel more comfortable just walking around to explore, since it won’t literally hurt to be outside. I’ll get to notice all of those city details that make a city unique. I can’t wait to explore more of in NYC.
That NYC Food
My food goals were random. I just wanted to eat well. I wanted to go to a French restaurant. I wanted to eat a bagel. I wanted to get cupcakes from Magnolia bakery (lolz), and I wanted to eat a corned beef sandwich from a Jewish deli.
I managed to have that delicious corned-beef sandwich, get cupcakes from Magnolia bakery, and a nice dinner at a French restaurant. In addition to the things I wanted to do, I also had some delicious Mexican and Greek food, an honest to dieu croissant, and a happy-hour cocktail that cost $19.
Those NYC Museums
I honestly barely scratched the surface of NYC museums: I visited the Met, the American Museum of Natural History, and the Met Cloisters. Of these museums, I only feel as if I fully did the Cloisters (and I would happily go back). I am sure I will revisit all of them again in turn in subsequent visits to NYC, plus hit many of the museums I missed.
I have wanted to go to The Met since reading The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg as a child. (I’m pretty sure the only way you could convince me to go camping would be if it was in a world-renowned museum.)
Obviously, I started with the Greek and Roman Wing. Duh. Highlights of The Met’s G&R collection include, among many others, the New York Kouros, the frescoes from the Villa of P. Fannius Synistor at Boscoreale, frescoes from the imperial villa at Boscotrecase, oodles and oodles of ceramics, oodles and oodles of statuary, Greek and Roman, portrait and idealized. Twas a little-ole recovering art historian’s paradise.
I did have a few moments of profound sadness, though. This was my first visit to a major collection since deciding to not pursue a straightforward academic trajectory of a tenure-track job. As I perused the Met’s antiquities, in some ways it felt like a physical pain akin to grief. Well, no, I suppose it is legit grief; grief for the path that is no longer mine. I no longer know what my role in the art historical world is. For that matter, I don’t know what I want it to be, either.
I meandered through the Egyptian collection, taking a nice little footrest in front of the Temples from Dendur (standing on stone floors is hard, literally!), before making my way to the American Wing, which I only had time to do partially. I basically sprinted through some parts of the European painting collection and then to visit oh-so-briefly the medieval section. I didn’t linger in the medieval wing since I knew I’d be going to The Cloisters later that weekend.
I am so glad to have checked the Met off of my list. It was about damn time and I’m sure I will be back.
American Museum of Natural History
“The” Museum that is a quintessential stop for many visitors to NYC was without a doubt the most hopping place I visited this trip. The rest of NYC, honestly, seemed a little empty thanks to the pandemic.
I could have spent almost the entirety of the visit looking at the murals in the entry hallway, if it weren’t so crowded. In fact, this post took so long to write because I got lost in a research-esque wormhole looking up these batshit insane murals, which celebrate the (dubious) accomplishments of Theodore Roosevelt. (I think I’ll do a separate exploration of them later, because they are wild, and truly quite awful.)
I mainly wanted to see the dinosaurs and gemstones. I cared less about the anthropological bits and non-dinosaur life-forms. I just wanted to see some dinos and shinies. It was so busy compared to all of the other places in NYC, that it was a little overwhelming to my post-pandemic self. The whole time I was just thinking about those murals. But I love seeing dinos.
The Met Cloisters
The Met Cloisters is an extension campus of the Met focused solely on medieval art from western Europe. Built in the early 20th century to house cloisters that were brought from Europe to NYC, the museum displays Byzantine, Romanesque, Gothic, and early Ren art in various media: manuscripts, sculpture, frescoes, windows, tombs, architecture, ivories, textiles, and on and on and on.
It is a literal HOOF to get The Cloisters–you definitely don’t feel like you’re still in Manhattan–you are, but only just, it’s on the northern edge of the island. We had to climb a fairly significant hill to get to the museum, which just felt right. I feel like every monastery I’ve visited required a “nice” climb to get to it (I blame Italy).
It was an evocative space, it definitely felt like I was transplanted to Europe. There were even lots of other visitors speaking not-English, which definitely contributed to that sensation. It’s a great museum, the quietest that I visited this trip. it’s totally worth a visit and the hoof. I definitely want to visit it again, in the spring or summer when all of the gardens are more active.
Until we meet again….
It is now weeks later and I am still just so pumped from my extended weekend to New York. I feel like I packed a lot into a relatively short amount of time and I can’t wait to go back. Fortunately, I might not have to wait too long as I am currently scheduled to go to a work conference in NYC! This time I get to do NYC as a professional and it will not be nearly as cold.
In January of 2022, I journeyed to NYC to see my first shows on Broadway. After a lifetime of dreaming, it was becoming a reality. I was schedule to see The Music Man starring Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster and Company starring Katrina Lenk, Patti LuPone, and many others. I was full of apprehension…would I see these stars of screen and stage? Would the shows even happen because of the ever-evolving omicron wave of the pandemic? And…how would I react to finally seeing a show on Broadway?
Meredith Willson’s The Music Man: January 13, 2022
The Music Man was my first show, scheduled for the day I arrived in New York.
I have never been a huge fan of the musical The Music Man, maybe because I’ve only seen film versions of it. Robert Preston, who originated Harold Hill on Broadway and in the film version, didn’t do it for me. He was charming, but I think he was more cemented in my brain as Toddy from Victor/Victoria, and just felt too old, especially set up against Shirley Jones, who was too virginal and missish for me–not really surprising for 1962. (Fun fact: Apparently Robert Preston was 44 when filming The Music Man–almost 10 years younger than Hugh Jackman. The process of aging is SO DIFFERENT now.) In the 2003 film version, Kristin Chenoweth was a fine Marian Paroo, but Matthew Broderick… honestly, I found his Harold Hill to be creepy and charmless.
So going into this show I was excited for some fun dance numbers and the two stars and not much else.
All day I had been relatively calm; I was thrilled to be back in a bustling city, I felt alive and somehow myself again. It was a good day. Even if, for some reason, Hugh Jackman or Sutton Foster called out that night, I would still get to see my very first Broadway show.
After walking around Midtown and having a very nice dinner with my friend who lives in NYC, we walked over to the Winter Garden Theatre. My friend was not joining me for the musical, but she very kindly took some pictures of me before heading back to her apartment.
It was time for me to enter the theatre!
I showed my vaccine card and ID to the usher, then my tickets, and was seated almost immediately. None of this slow line nonsense I’ve experienced at local theatres where it takes for-freaking-ever to filter into your seats.
Everyone was masked and ushers walked up and down the aisles with signs to mask and they definitely made sure that everyone was wearing their mask properly. (My COVID travel anxieties were practically non-existent in NYC since people consistently wore their masks correctly and you had to show your vaccine card everywhere.)
Next to me, a woman was telling her daughter that she wasn’t getting a Christmas present or birthday present this year. “My credit card is done after this trip.”
When she mentioned having seen Company the night before, I totally butted my way in: “Oh my god was Patti there?” She was! I tried chatting more with her, but I wasn’t in Nashville anymore and she did not engage. But that was okay because the show started PROMPTLY at 8:00 PM.
It’s hard to describe the rest of the evening. It was surely one of the best experiences of my life.
It was magical.
And yes, BOTH Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster were there!
Their pure, unadulterated talent blew the roof off the house. Hugh’s Harold Hill was charming and debonair but also vulnerable. His charm was legit and never felt creepy or old. Sutton’s Marian Paroo was smart, sharp, and sassy. They just worked. Together, they are a powerful pair. I felt like I was riding high the entire time from start to finish, and I loved every moment of it.
For the final dance number, I had tears in my eyes because they literally danced for 10 minutes. I had seen Sutton sing in person before, but I hadn’t seen her dance. I didn’t want it to end.
But then it did.
It was over.
Making my way back to my friend’s apartment I was just totally overwhelmed. After 36 years of waiting, I had finally seen a Broadway show. And it was fantastic.
I felt like my life would never be the same or as perfect and wonderful as it was in that moment. I pretty much cried with joy the whole way back to my friend’s apartment, arriving on her doorstep with raccoon eyes (thanks, mascara).
I remembered how much my mom had loved The Music Man. How perfect was it then that this was my first show. A show that my mom would have loved. My mom, who without a doubt, started this whole obsession.
It felt like a perfect full-circle moment: I had been waiting my whole life to see this show.
Stephen Sondheim’s, Company: January 15, 2022
While writing this weeks later, I am still riding high from seeing The Music Man. So two days after seeing The Music Man, it was strange to head into my second Broadway show. This time, Stephen Sondheim’s Company, starring the grande dame of my heart, Patti LuPone.
After a very cold day in New York, my friend once again walked with me to the theater and snapped my pic in front of The Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre. I was nervous. After seeing BOTH Hugh and Sutton, would I actually get to see Patti too? It seemed impossible. I couldn’t be that lucky.
Bernard B. Jacobs is a smaller theatre than the Winter Garden and my seats were a lot closer to the stage (though cheaper than my MM tickets, haha) and the whole tone of the set and audience was different. It felt older and more mature. (Which makes sense given the the two shows I was seeing!)
My friend texted me that she had heard someone asking an usher outside if Patti LuPone would be on and the person said she was.
I didn’t want to hope but as the lights went down, an announcement was made: “There is no photography and please make sure your cell phones were off….or else.” I knew. I knew that voice.
That voice belonged to none other than La LuPone. In that moment, I was glad to be wearing a mask because my face was doing some real stupid shit.
I was about to see Patti LuPone perform live.
For once in my life, I was squeezed in between two people that were bigger than I am, so it was a physically uncomfortable viewing experience, but it didn’t matter. The moment Patti came onto the stage, the entire theater drew in a breath. There was a group of gays (<3) behind me who literally audibly gasped. She commanded the whole goddamn stage, filling the whole room with her charisma.
Besides being in awe of experiencing a long-and much-loved voice, IN PERSON, it was a remarkable show. First of all, I owe Sondheim an apology for all of my previous ambivalence about his shows. I recognized his genius and we can not overstate his contribution to American theatre, but I just didn’t like his work. To be fair, I think the Sondheim shows we see the most often are not his best, especially the ones geared to younger audiences; like how many bad productions of Into the Woods can you deal with?
Company, often regarded as one of Sondheim’s master works, however, is one of his that I actually knew most of the words to. I was familiar with the general gist of the plot, but had never paid much attention to the show. In short, it tells the non-linear story of a single 30-something who is questioning their life choices as a single person in a group of marrieds.
First, it was hilarious, something I didn’t fully appreciate from simply hearing the songs. Second, I do not know what gave Sondheim the right to personally attack me with this musical. This staging, departing from every previous incarnation of the show, is gender swapped. The lead, formerly Robert, is now Bobbie (played by Katrina Lenk). As a woman in her mid-30s, like Bobbie, also single and not sure how she feels about it, the musical felt so real: tagging along as the ever-present third, fifth, or seventh wheel, not wanting to be alone, but also not really wanting to deal with lame bumble dates, or any dating apps for that matter, feeling like you’re racing to GET IT DONE whatever the hell IT is, how even though from the outside looking in couples have tons of problems of their own and coupledom seems like a hot mess, yet it’s something that is just regarded as normal and desired, but is it something I desire, I don’t even know, how am I supposed to know!?
…Wait, am I talking about me or Bobbie? What a gut punch.
I am fascinated with gender swapping narratives. So much can change based on such a simple choice to change the gender of the main character. This show originally from 1970, it would 100% not hit the same if Bobbie were still Robert in the 2020s. In addition to changing Robert to Bobbie, the engaged Amy becomes a gay male named Jamie–also a perfect choice that made the musical feel way more authentic to the current era. This show would not have hit the right notes (heh) if it had been a straight male lead surrounded by all hetero couples. The success of the gender swap has made me ponder what other musicals would do well with a similar treatment. There are a few that, like Company, I think need it. I’ll save that for another post.
Obviously, I fell in love with this show. This staging was one of the last things he worked on before he died, and he saw this cast perform not long before his death. One of his greatest legacies is that he continued to support and mentor aspiring artists and playwrights, and how he gracefully let his work live through the kinds of changes made in later interpretations–like the swap from Robert to Bobbie and Amy to Jamie.
After seeing a staging of Company, I finally understand his genius. And I also think Sondheim is not for the young–Company would have hit me completely differently had I seen it in its entirety at 22 or 23; honestly I doubt I’d have been into it at all. Seeing this at 36 was, at times, a little too on the nose. I am sorry I didn’t see it and appreciate it sooner, but each season in its moment, eh?
The only thing that would have made this musical better for me is the casting of the lead. Katrina Lenk’s voice was passable, and her acting serviceable, but the whole musical builds up to this one song, where Bobbie just has a MOMENT. It’s THE song. If you know any songs from Company, it’s likely this one. “Being Alive”has long been a favorite of mine. It has frequently been sung by Sondheim-ites such as Mandy Patinkin, Raul Esparza, Bernadette Peters, and, you guessed it, Patti Ann LuPone (of course, my fav version). It is one of THE songs of the Sondheim repertoire. Lenk’s rendition was… fine. Technically, nothing was incorrect with her performance…she hit the notes and sang the song, but compared to the rest of the stellar cast, it was weak sauce, lacking in emotion, a disappointing culmination where there should have been a powerful punch of a finale. It was a bummer end of what was otherwise a fantastic show.
The rest of the cast was amazing–I especially look forward to seeing what Matt Doyle, who played Jaime, will do. Patti LuPone is a goddamn goddess and national treasure, and it was literally a dream come true.
I managed to hold it together after this show. It wasn’t the same surge of adrenaline that I had post-Music Man. Rather, it was a reflective kind of post-show joy, more of a diffuse warm glow that kept me warm on the very cold journey to my lodgings.
I can’t wait to do it all over again
I still can’t quite believe that I had this AMAZING experience, where I FINALLY SAW SOME SHOWS ON BROADWAY. I am still pinching myself that I got to see all three of the stars I wanted to see. Unsurprisingly, I am addicted and I can’t wait to go back for more. Beyond the shows, I also had a brilliant time exploring the city, eating delicious food, and seeing some world-class museums. More on my general New York-y experience in my next post.
**You’re Going to See a Broadway Show.
This line is from one of my favorite musicals, The Drowsy Chaperone, in the opening monologue by the Man In Chair. If you got it, congratulations, you get 10 points. Do with them what you will.
*10 points if you can tell me what show that’s from!
I have always loved musicals.
My mom started me down this path with some oldies-but-goodies at a very young age: Meet Me in St. Louis and The Sound of Music were constant repeats. She introduced me to others that became favorites like Singing In the Rain, White Christmas, Hello, Dolly!, Fiddler on the Roof, as well as some of her favorites that I didn’t like, The Music Man (heh), Paint Your Wagon and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers Disney classics, such as Beauty and the Beast, still my personal favorite from childhood, contributed to my love of expressing your feelings through song. Barbara Streisand, Bette Midler, and Judy Garland were my DIVAS. In high school, I fell in love with Les Misérables, which initiated my love of STAGE musicals. College ushered in the age of Wicked, which only increased my love of a powerful diva belt. In 2005, my friend Ashley introduced me to the Broadway version of Thoroughly Modern Millie starring a young triple-threat actor, the incomparable Sutton Foster.
In this same period, I feel like YouTube really took off (crazy to think about life, pre-YouTube, eh?) and I clicked around the internet falling more in love with diva belters like Sutton Foster, Audra MacDonald, Bernadette Peters, Sherie Rene Scott, and (my love of all loves) Patti LuPone. It was around this time when she was Mrs. Lovett in the 2005 revival of Sweeny Todd, only to shortly thereafter go on to her iconic run in the 2008 revival of Gypsy, and win her second Tony.
Obviously, given my penchant for the genre, I have always wanted to see a show on the Great White Way, but the opportunity never really presented itself. Growing up, our family vacations were more battlefields and journeys to historical sites. We’d go to baseball games (go, sports, go?), and visit with family. But never New York.
I saw a few touring casts, though–the first of which was Andrew Lloyd Webber’s CATS! in the late 1990s. Then grad school happened and money, time, and logistics just…it wasn’t possible for expensive tickets and an expensive stay in an expensive city, just for the pleasure of seeing something on Broadway.
Fast forward to 2021.
I’ve finished grad school. I have a grown up job. Ashley, my friend who introduced me to Sutton Foster, is planning a trip to NYC to see To Kill A Mockingbird and The Music Man starring Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster. I am, understandably, instantly jealous…. but in that way where you’re still excited for your friend.
Until, I get a text from her. “Charlotte, I have to tell you something. It’s okay if you get mad at me.”
What would make me be mad at Ashley? I already knew that she was planning on seeing Sutton Foster, her OG fav, but I couldn’t hate her for that. Unless… Oh. She must be going to see someone else big, someone else famous…. Someone that I adored.
“You’re going to see Patti LuPone, aren’t you?”
PATTI LUPONE in Company.
SUTTON FOSTER and HUGH JACKMAN in The Music Man.
Two of my favorites (and obviously, hers; she would at least appreciate the genius she was witnessing so, like, it’s fine, but still). I pouted grumpily for a solid five minutes like a petulant toddler.
But then, like a high kick straight in the face, it hit me. I have a friend in NYC who I was going to visit. I could just…go and see the shows, too.
Could it really be that simple? I could decide to go? And then do it?
In classic Charlotte fashion, I decided immediately: I WOULD GO TO NEW YORK, TOO. Within days, I booked flights, and got myself tickets to see BOTH Patti LuPone and Sutton Foster, for my first ever Broadway shows at the tender age of 36.
At the point of booking, things seemed to be looking up pandemic wise. Delta was on the downward spiral, I had been boosted, things seemed to be straightening out. Then, as it came time for our trips to happen (mine just a few weeks after Ashley’s), omicron started to rear its ugly head.
Would we both get to see these amazing leading ladies?
In late December, Sutton Foster got COVID. A few days later, Hugh Jackman also tested positive. With Harold Hill out of commission, The Music Man announced it was shutting down until a week or so before my show. Ashley’s show was canceled.
We both knew performance cancellations were possible; we are still living through a pandemic. But that was the whole reason for her trip! To see this show! Then, the night she went to see Company, it seemed like she would at least get to see Patti LuPone; they even included a sheet in the playbills listing the evening’s cast members with La LuPone on the roster. However, right before the performance began, it was announced that her understudy would be playing the role of Joanne that evening. (She still loved the show.)
This has always been one of my fears: finally getting tickets to that Broadway show, starring one of my favorites, only to show up and have them call out. Enter COVID and that possibility became much more likely. With Music Man shutting down and Ashley not seeing Sutton or Patti, I had to confront the fact that I might not see either of them, too.
Combating all of my nerves, both about flying for the first time since the pandemic started and the possibility of my shows getting canceled, I ventured on my own to the greatest city in the world: New York.
Would it be all that I dreamt of? Would I actually even see the shows? Would I see Sutton? Would I see Hugh? Would I see Patti LuPone? The nerves were real.
Spoiler alert: Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. And Yeeeeees (you need those extra LuPone vowels). Check back next week to hear all about it.
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