When I started my WLS journey, I never expected to be a blogger. If you would have told me three months ago that I would be typing out my weight loss funny moments....and some not so funny moments, I would have told you that I thought you had lost your mind. Well, I would have been wrong. The other day I checked to see how many visits I have had and I was shocked to see that in only three months, you all have read my blog 10,000 times. DANG.....that's a lot of reading. Thank you so much for the support, and I hope I can continue to make you laugh and smile throughout our journeys together. I finally understand why Sally Fields said, "You like me. You really like me." It wasn't ego....it was pure shock.
Ok, now that I got done with all the sappy stuff. Stay tuned as I plan to write about my exploits from the past few days. I will explain that getting drunk isn't anything like it used to be....and I still have the ability to fall for no reason. Can't wait to write about my 20th H.S. reunion and let you all know how great it felt to be around the same size I was in H.S. So many stories....so little time. Stay tuned.
****Disclaimer: As always, this is a comical view on everyday issues that happen to people (or at least me) who have had weight loss surgery. Please do not take this seriously. I just want you to enjoy it and hopefully finish with a smile on your face****
I know I am not supposed to weigh myself every day. But let's be realistic here. I'm fat. I've been fat most of my life. The scale has been the end all be all of weight loss or gain. It's hard to not get on it every morning with the hope that the numbers have gone down over night. It's not that I'm just watching what I eat and exercising. I had the majority of my stomach removed. I eat 400-600 calories a day (if that), and I exercise every day. Because of all this, I expect the scale to go down every day. But much to my amazement, it doesn't.
I've already written about how the numbers just don't add up. So, I am not going to address that again (even though I know my math isn't wrong!!). Now I am going to talk about our unrealistic goals when it comes to the scale. Or at least my unrealistic goals.
I am a reasonably intelligent person, who is of sound mind and body (most of the time). I know that stalls happen. I know that when you shock your body in the way that I did three weeks ago that my body will fight back. It's going to hold on to as much fat and water as it can as it thinks I'm starving it. I also know that I am gaining muscle which is leaner than fat. Notice how I didn't say that muscle weight more than fat? That because 1 pound equals one pound, no matter what the pound is of. One pound of fat is equal to one pound of feathers. So, for all the people who say this, please be aware that what you are saying is wrong. And, it really irks me. Not that you should care if it bothers me or not. It's not like you're ever going to meet me. But, even with all this knowledge, I still wake up every morning, pee, strip my clothes, exhale, and get on the scale. Isn't it funny how we've learned over the years to do all these little things in an attempt to have the scale read a lower number? And, since three days after surgery, the number on the scale hasn't changed. It's even gone up a pound or two at times. And to be honest, this has caused me more stress than the surgery has caused my body. I don't know how to handle the lack of movement. It's like I'm at a dance and everyone around me is moving and grooving and I am just standing there. I'm not even tapping my foot. It just doesn't make sense and I should be thrown off the dance floor.
This has caused me to have some unreasonable thoughts. Am I one of those people that surgery doesn't work for? If so, I'm going to be pissed. Now, not only will I not lose weight, I still can't eat food I like. That would just be a cruel, cruel joke. What did I do to ever deserve this? Am I just doing something really wrong? I am not sure how that's possible as I get my protein in and I do everything I've been taught in all my classes. I've even gone as far to think that maybe I am loosing too much weight that the scale can't understand what is going on so it stays on the same number just "because it can" . I know none of these thoughts make sense. I know I am a fool for thinking any of these but I just can't help it.
I am so obsessive about the number on the scale that I have begun to weigh myself throughout the day. Anytime I go into the bathroom, the thing is calling to me. It's like I'm dealing with a possessed electronic device and I've given into it with out any thought or use of any common sense. I swear I hear the voice from the "Exorcist" saying, "Come to me Tricia. Come stand on me. You know you want to. You can do. It only takes a second." Has the scale become my new obsession now that food can no longer be my anchor? And, if so, I have to admit that it's not making me feel as good as pizza, ice cream, or potato chips did. It actually makes me feel worse every time I use it. Then again, the food did the same thing but it took longer for me to feel bad about eating it. Now, I get the bad feelings but non of the reward (aka the good tasting food). So, after great thought and much consideration, I have decided that the scale is the devil. It is the down fall for so many of us. Even the ones who haven't had surgery. And with this knowledge, I've decided to take drastic measures to remove the temptation from my life.
So, I have thought about taking a sledge hammer to it. But there are two major issues with this approach. First, I don't own a sledge hammer and if I did, I am not sure I could life it. Aren't they really heavy? Second, after thinking about how much it cost and how much money I would just waste, I just can't do it. I can't waste money so "willie nillie". I don't' know about all of you, but I don't have loads of cash just hanging around. Because of that, I have to take care of the things I do own and there is no reason to damage something I know I will need again in the upcoming months. So, I plan to give it to my husband and have him hide it. That way, I won't waste the money that I don't have to waste nor will I end up in the hospital with my back going out from the weight of the sledgehammer that I don't own. This way, once a month I can pull it out and weigh myself.
No, my plan doesn't really "fix" my obsession. But it does take the thing that I'm obsessed with and remove it from my daily routine. I just hope I don't' turn into a "scale fend" and start ripping the house apart while screaming, "where is it? I know it's here somewhere? You don't understand, I need it. It's not bad for me. I promise to just use it this one time." But for some reason, i see this happening. Because, it doesn't matter what the addiction is, we all find ways to make it sound less bad for us.
So, I am going to head to the bathroom and pick up the scale and hand it over to my husband. I know he will be able to handle my craziness when I need my "fix". So, here I go, I am just going to march in there, pick it up and hand it to him. After I pee, strip my clothes off, and exhale just one more time. Come on, doesn't every one need that "last fix?"
I find it interesting how different my body is in only four months....almost to the day. Now, I know I've lost A LOT of weight. I am smart enough to know that with the amount of weight I have lost I will see changes in my body. However, there are times I look at myself in the mirror, shower, get dressed, or just touch my arm that I think, "Who is this person, and why am I touching her body?"
Let me explain. Last night I was showering. As I was washing my body, I swear it felt like a different person was in the shower and I was in her head. I didn't feel like "ME"...well the really fat 330lb me. I then tried on clothes I bought before surgery that were WAY to tight on me. Both things are now big on me. The shirt is less big, but I remember when I tried them on and laughed at the fact they didn't fit. The thought that they would ever fit seemed so far fetched to me. Again, I knew I would loss weight....I just wasn't ready for the psychological changes that would have to come with the weight loss.
I still wear clothes that are baggy. When I do wear clothes that fit properly, I am so self conscience at first and it takes me hearing from many people that I look fine before I can actually leave the house. I have actually begun to get a little perturbed that my new favorite lounge around shirts are getting way to big for me. I've only had them for a month and a half and I thought they would at least fit until October. To be honest, I would be happy to have them for years and years due to how comfy they are.
Now with that all said, I love seeing my body change and shape into the person I always felt like under all the extra weight. I never thought I was depressed but now that I've lost weight, I can say that I wasn't as happy as I could have been. I am so much happier now. I love seeing men take a double take or have them smile and flirt. That hasn't happened in years. Now before people start going off about how I'm married and I shouldn't look for that....relax. First, I love my husband with all my heart. Second, everyone flirts and everyone likes to be admired. If you say you don't...you're full of crap. And trust me, if you read my blog from a few days I go, you will know that being full of crap can be very painful!!!!
The good thing is that even though the scale is moving at a snails pace these past five weeks....my body is still surprising me. I can't wait to see what it looks like around Christmas time. To be honest, I am REALLY looking forward to the day I see my parents out and about and they don't recognize me. This happens to my sister ALL THE TIME. For those of you who don't know, my sister had by-pass surgery around three or four years ago. There are sometimes I go to her house and am still in shock that the little tiny person I am talking to is her...hopefully one day I will get the same response. But for now, I am going to keep being surprised in the shower....maybe I should have said in the mirror...the other one sounds really, really bad.
I know not to expect miracles. I think we all know the weight won't just disappear over night. Then why is it that I get so discouraged over a number? Maybe a better way to say this is that I get so discouraged over the lack of downward movement of the number. How is it that pre-op the weight just "fell" off and even post-op, the first few days it seemed to "melt" away. Now, it's been stuck on the same number for the past seven days? As I am writing this, my common sense and intelligence is saying, "Trish, you have got to be be kidding me!!! You have lost 35lbs during pre-op and after surgery (only 13 days ago...total amount of time???? 28 days!!!). I know that I shouldn't freak out. The person in me with common sense wants to just slap the crazy girl who wants to see all these changes back to the middle ages, where scales didn't have so much power. I KNOW I'm crazy (unrealistic is a better term) for wanting to see the scale drop every day, but I can't help it. And, I know I am not the only person who is like this. When did our obsession with the scale become so unrealistic? When did the number on a scale start to have so much meaning and so much power over us?
So, I started thinking, "where does this obsession come from?". At what point did I learn that these expectations were fine to have?. Should I follow all the psychology theories out there and blame my parents? Freud would say it has something to do with my sexuality but I don't' really think we need to be taking advice from a man high on opioids and itching for his next fix. Do I blame society and the media? Do I blame myself? I think a little blame goes to all of the above.
Now, before you attack me for saying my parents have some part in this, just hear me out. Our parents were bombarded with Jane Fonda workouts, the cabbage diet, Gene Simmons, weight watchers, and the constant reminder that the perfect plate came in 1/3s. 1/3 of the plate was protein, 1/3 was starch, and 1/3 was veggies or fruit. They were told to drink 4 glasses of milk a day and that eggs were good for us...then bad...and now, apparently they are good for us again. There was no "pink slim" in our burgers, no hormones in our meat, and our veggies didn't come from other countries and somehow defy the laws of biology and not rot for two to three weeks at a time. What do they put on these veggies anyway? Is there some supper "look younger" cream for veggies that women don't know about yet? If so, they need to bottle it up as I am sure they would make a lot more money with that then with the veggies. Sidebar* I bought some grapes, came home and put them int he fridge. A month and a half latter, I "found them" behind some other things. To my shock they looked and felt as though I bought them yesterday. I told myself right then and there that I wouldn't be buying my fruits and veggies from a certain grocery store again. That was just creepy. Ok, back to the parents. The had no reason to think McDonald's food was bad for us. I mean according to the commercials, everything was freshly made. Fresh= good for us. The federal government and media shoved all this information down their thoughts with very little thought of giving any real explanation. It's like giving a bike to a child who can't read and telling them to follow the instructions. The child compromises and just looks at the pictures to get the bike together. If there are left over parts, they just get thrown back int he box and you pray the bike doesn't fall apart while you're in the middle of a 2 foot jump off a homemade ramp. (My father was the king of doing this. I don't think he ever put something together where there wasn't left over parts floating around when he was done. Now, I am married to a man who does the same thing. Lucky for us, nothing has ever just fallen apart so they must be doing something right.
The only good part of what our parent's learned and saw was that in the magazines and on t.v., the models looked that normal people. They were not a size <0, or airbrushed to look more like a barbie doll and less like a person. The photos I saw as a child were not unrealistic. Christie Brinkley was thin but in shape. She didn't look as though she starved herself. It was a great "thin role model" to try to aim to become. It wasn't a model that was so Photoshopped that no one could ever look like her. If you ask me, I miss seeing real women in magazines. I think the fashion industry needs to learn that clothes on a a wharf of a model does not make me want to buy them. Oh, and before I forget, I never once read in a magazine where a model said, " I exercise two times a day, eat right, and rarely allow myself to have any sweets." What I do read and hear is, "I don't exercise, I eat what ever I want. I'm just lucky I have good genes." Well aren't you special? And for the record, you're a huge fibber. You may not exercise, but I promise you, you don't eat what you want. You eat tofu and salads all day, everyday. You starve yourself for your profession or get some help with illegal drugs. Just look at all the award shows on TV. How many times do you hear actors say that they have been on a "cleansing" diet for two weeks? I hear it all the time. SO, for two weeks before the awards show, the actor is drinking some strange concoction and using the bathroom way more than any normal person should. But hey, at least she looks good in her Oscar de la Rente dress.I don't know anyone who would consider those things yummy to the tummy. Tofu can't hold it's own up against a good 4oz grilled cheeseburger, grilled onions, and topped with your faves. Then to add some pasta salad or french fries with that makes it even better. But, apparently the models "genes" made her taste buds not find any of that appealing....or a better explanation is that she LIED through her perfectly straight, overly white teeth. I'm going with option 2 on this one.
I don't think it's all media's fault. I think parents, friends, and co-workers have some say in our feelings too. How many of us have lost weight int he past heard this, "Oh my goodness, you look great!!! How much have you lost?" It's like the amount of weight lost is needed to verify that the person does in fact look good. If you say you've only lost around 10 pounds, you are bound to hear someone say, "that's it? If looks like you've lost so much more. I guess everything has just redistributed." If you say, you've lost 50lbs, then you hear, "oh, that's a lot. How much more do you have to lose?" This is a feeble attempt to find out your weight. Something that always ticked me off. To these people, I usually respond that I'm not sure as i don't really look at the scale. This seems to make them very uncomfortable. The look of, "you're kidding me. Who doesn't look at the scale." is priceless. It usually only takes one time of saying this and they stop asking for numbers. The key is making them feel just a little more uncomfortable than you do. That way, they don't bother you again with all this number talk.
Another thing I heard growing up (even from my father...who believe it or not didn't mean for it to sound rude) was, "you would be sooooo beautiful if only you lost some weight." I can't tell you how many times I heard this growing up. I heard it from family, "friends', teachers, even people I didn't know that I just saw out and about. How did they not see my face drop when they said it? Did I look like deep down I was thinking, "you know, you're right. Right now I'm fat and ugly, but if I loose some weight I will be thin and beautiful. Ummm, thanks? I won't type what I want to say but it rhymes with Pluck Hue!!!! I thought beauty was on the inside. How does losing weight make my inner beauty even more beautiful? Oh it doesn't. You are really saying that even though I have a great personality, my fatness is making it hard for anyone to find me attractive. Thanks for making me aware of this. I wouldn't have known with out your underhanded complement. Now, I am just going to lock myself in my house and find some cookies and ice cream. My emotions just said, "screw you", I don't need your approval. I have the approval of Ben and Jerry's and Oreo. At least they make me happy and don't make me feel bad about myself until the next day when I get in on the scale again. But even then, I don't blame Ben and Jerry or myself for allowing them to cheer me up. I blame the mean person who hurt my feelings and "made me" fall off the wagon. Yes, it's that person''s fault I'm fat!!!! If they would have called me beautiful then I wouldn't be downing all the ice cream and cookies I can get my fat stubby fingers around. LOL
Now, I know the only person to blame is myself. No one forced me to eat the things I used to eat. I did that all on my own. I watched the number on the scale go up and up over the years and I was the person that didn't do anything about it. Now, all that's changed. I did do something about it. I now eat to live and not live to eat. I just have to learn that the scale isn't the end all be all. I have to throw out everything I've been taught in the past 37 years and take a new look at it all. But, I still want to see those numbers go down...maybe I can do a little of both? This is going to be hard but I can't allow a little box with digital numbers run my life any more and I hope you don't either. Here's to the only numbers that count....my protein and my liquids. I like those numbers high and I don't feel bad when I eat my tuna fish or my smoothie. Now I just have to learn to not feel bad when the scale doenst' move. Yes, that's going to be the hardest thing to get used to.
Today is almost my three month point. Also, I have my 20th high school reunion coming up so I figured it was a good time to go shopping. Now I have no idea what size I wear or where I should shop. So, I called my mother. I always like to have someone with me that will be completely honest and tell me I look like a teenage wannabe, or I'm trying to wear a size WAY to small or WAY to big. Mom will always be honest. Sometimes a little too honest. One time she told me not to buy something because my boobs looked to big. That's what I liked about the shirt. Needless to say, I bought it.
Anyway, today I started at Lane Bryant. You all know the Big Girl store. I found some things I liked and grabbed a couple different sizes. To my amazement, I fit into a 14/16 shirt, and a 16 or 18 pants (depending on the cut). I can't tell you the last time I wore anything that size. Especially for my shirts. At that moment, shopping began to be fun. I started to understand why people love shopping....I could totally get into this shopaholic thing.
Then I went to Old Navy. Now, understand that the only thing I used to be able to buy here was a men's XXXL sweatshirt. Well, today, I was able to fit into the woman's polo shirts (XXL), woman's jeans (size 18), and an XL woman's sweatshirt. Now, here's the funny thing. Being big for most of my life, I've always worn very baggy clothes. Because even though we all know baggy clothes don't hide anything, we feel more comfortable and let's be honest, we're hiding behind those extra baggy shirts and pants. So, when I came out to look in the mirror wearing these clothes that were the correct size and fit me the way they were supposed to, I felt so exposed. It took me awhile to get that this is what I am supposed to wear and how I am supposed to look. Trust me, it's crazy. I really had to look at the emotional issues that come with being fat. Then, I said "screw that" I'm losing weight and doing well. I have the body I would have died for when I was 25. I'm curvy, and yes I have more weight to lose, but I am going embrace my new body and not hide it being my XXXL sweatshirt.
Well, apparently embracing my body cost $300. I embraced it in new bras, underwear, jeans, pants, sweats, and shoes. I also made sure that none of those things were baggy or hiding anything. Everything I bought showed my body in a tasteful way. However, the only person who will see the panties and bras will be my husband....and he'll be happy to hear that my cup size is still a DD. He was so worried about that. LOL
So, now that I told you about my wonderful day, I have to tell you that I have been kind of down. My scale number has not really moved over the past month and a half. If goes up and down between five pounds. Now, I KNOW that I am working out more and gaining muscle and that my body is changing but I still want that number to go down. I want to be under 200 so badly, I can't even explain it. The last time I was under 200 I was in high school and I was working out all the time and barely eating. But, right now that's my goal and I am so upset that I'm not getting any closer to it. But, going today and seeing how my body is changing even if the scale isn't going down makes me feel REALLY GOOD. So, I decided to stop worrying about that number on the scale and enjoy my body and my new clothes. Now, I just have to figure out what I'm going to wear first.
Guess what?!!! My husband gave me my scale back. Not sure how long I have it for, but at least I have it for today. So, after doing my morning bathroom ritual, I weighed myself. I am down 2.5 pounds since my last weigh in. Talk about feeling good about what I'm doing. It was so nice to see a change after all those times I got on it with no changes. It's sad and funny how a little thing like a scale can have such a huge impact on our emotions. If it doesn't change or heaven forbid it goes up, we are worse to deal with than someone going through menopause. But, if we lose, even if it's just a little bit, we are on the the complete opposite side of the spectrum. We are the life of the party. We are handing out hats, blow horns, and pureed cake (for all the other people). How did we every get to a place where a number would have such a huge bearing on our emotions? Did it start when we were little and we looked through Seventeen, Cosmo, or any other magazine that told us what a perfect body should look like? Did it happen when we had to get weighed in middle school in front of all our class mates? We were able to see what the average weight for people in our grade was (mine was 65-70 pounds), and how off we were from it (I was 100 pounds) and yes, I was considered FAT. It could have also came when we had to do the physical fitness thing for gym. I remember having to do pull ups and not being able to even bring my body up a little. Or the sit ups. How many can you do in a minute? Apparently I couldn't do nearly as many as the thin person next to me. What the rope climb? I couldn't even get to the first knot and it was right off the ground. Then there was the mile. Most people ran it in 8-10mins. I "ran" it in 20. Only to be told how I wasn't even close to the average. Listen to me Gym Teacher. You should be happy I even ran or attempted to run. I knew I would be the last person in but I still tried. I don't need to finally get through to the finish line to be told had badly I did. Then the worst part about it all? The shower. Trying to hid in the back and keep yourself covered as long as possible. I would jump in the shower when everyone else left and hurry up and jump out and get dressed with little to no time to spare. Having all the thin girls prance around the locker room didn't help me feel better about myself nor did watching those same stick figures weigh themselves and talk about how fat they were.
It is so sad how emotionally damaged we all were about our weight and how we looked (even the thin girls). I hope when I have children that I can make them see that they are beautiful no matter what a magazine says and no matter what their friends look like. But I know that media will still make it into her head and she will fight with it like we all have/still do.
Now, my second topic of the day. Hopefully not as depressing. I want to talk about the cost of healthy food. I have spent more money in the past month (since I can't eat much) than I did prior to having this surgery. For example. I buy Lean Shakes. On sale, I spent $60 for 24 bottles. That is just crazy. I think GNC knows that we will pay it for good tasting protein. There is no way it cost that much to make and ship. But, what do I do? Do I force myself to drink soemthing I hate with much less protein in it? No, I continue to drink these overpriced high protein shakes. I am praying that once it's no longer the "new thing" that the cost will go down dramatically. Then there is the cost of tuna fish. When did all white tuna begin to cost an arm and a leg? At my favorite store (please hear the sarcasm dripping from my lips) Walmart, I paid $1.85 a can. I swear I am buying caviar not tuna fish. There is no need for my tuna to cost almost $2.00 a can. I remember when I could get the same thing for .25 a can at the local grocery store. What happened to those days. And, for the record I am in my 30's so it wasn't that long ago. Next is fruits and veggies. Why do apples cost .99 a pound? I can't remember the cost of my spinach, but I do know it was high. My frozen blueberries were 11.50 for a large bag. Lima beans are $2 for a small frozen bag. Then, add in the fiber I have to take since this surgery, the vitamins, the calcium, and the B12 and I swear, my wallet and bank account are shrinking much faster than my waist is. No wonder the U.S is so fat. It cost less to go buy a double cheeseburger and fries from McDonald's than it does to buy a salad from Salad Works (or McDonald's for that matter......but we all know that the the McDonald's salad usually has just as much fat and sodium in it as the double cheeseburger). This is just ridiculous if you ask me. Fresh food should not be more expensive than processed food. Going through a drive through should not save me more money than going to the grocery store and stocking up on veggies and fruits and fresh meats. No wonder we all ended up where we did. Everyone wants to save money. No one wants to pay out more for food that may go bad faster than anything in a box or bag. I for one didn't like that idea and because of that, I would go for the cheaper, faster food.
Ok, I am done with my venting (some may call it something else ) I am sure I am not the only person who has noticed the cost of things or the need for the scale to give us the approval we never got from other people. I know I can't change any of it, but at least I can get my opinion out there and maybe if you agree, you can get your opinions out there too...and so on. Maybe one day, our children will not need to feel the need to starve themselves, or over eat in an attempt to feel some sort of relief from the social and media bombardment they experience. Woman have curves!!! We have boobs and hips. We have butts. And if you ask me, I think having all those things makes me beautiful. I have no desire to loose so much that I no longer look like a woman. I already miss the boobs and butt I've lost, but not as much as my husband.
Working out isn't easy when you have back issues. However, being in the water is a great way to get pain relief and to get some exercise in with out hurting myself even more. I live in a condo so the pool is shared by everyone in the neighborhood. Usually there aren't many people there which is great for me and my work outs but I still get some strange looks from the people who are there (including my husband).
Now, I can't just dive on in and swim. I mean I can, but I will pay for it the next day. I also can't do a lot of bending and flipping or a lot of ab work. So, what I do is walk. I walk back and forth in the shallow part of the pool. Now, this can get very boring. Also, there is only so much people watching someone can do. It get's a little strange when you are caught looking at the same person for the fifth time because you can't believe she's wearing THAT, or looking at someone's boyfriend for the sixth time becasue you are really looking at the clock over his head but she can't figure that out. Trust me honey, no one wants your man....he's not even half as attractive as you seem to think he is and by judging by what I see in his shorts, he's not that great in bed either.
Anyway.....maybe that was a little much....but I'm just telling it like it is. So, in order to keep my boredom down and to make sure I don't get myself in any trouble with the girl who shouldn't be wearing that bikini or have the guy's girlfriend jump in and drown me, I've begun walking back and forth while reading my book. Not only does it help me not look at the people around me, it allows me to walk back and forth and lose track of time. Yesterday I walked for an hour. AN HOUR of walking in the water!!! I was shocked. I didn't even notice I was getting my workout....and isn't that how it should be? Why can't every workout be this easy? I could have waked for another hour except I knew I would hate myself the next day. So, from now on, I plan to get my walk done in the pool, with my head down and my nose in a book. That way, I can still be alive after the workout and not have my neighbors hate me. I think it's a win win for everyone.
I had my 20th reunion last week and like many people going back to see people from H.S., I was scared. I got my nails and eyebrows done. I bought a new outfit. I felt great about myself up to the point that I walked out the door. What is wrong with me? It's been 20 years. I've changed....they have changed...but still, the fear I felt back in H.S. all came flooding back. Why is it that no matter how intelligent you are, you can still allow your feeling to take over any common sense you may have? I went from being a strong, independent woman to being a self conscience, pimple faced, teen who didn't feel as though I fit in anywhere.
For the record, most would have said I was popular. I would have said I was liked by people from all cliques. I always felt older than my age. I never understood the caddy, bit#$yness that many teenagers displayed. I didn't care if so-and-so flirted with whats-her-name's crush even though so-and-so KNEW how much whats-her-name liked him. I was always under the impression that if you teat people with respect, they will do the same for you. Now, with that being said, I still felt really fat and uncomfortable in my own skin. Mostly becasue every other girl in my class was a size 0 or a size 4 at the most. Here I was fighting to be in a 9-10 and I was HUGE.
Before my surgery I was looking back at photos of myself and I thought, "Damn, I was hot!!!" Too bad I didn't know that then. LOL Which of course brings us back to the reunion. After putting on my smile and trying to hide my fear, I began getting the most amazing comments. "You look just like you did in school." "Oh my gosh, you look GREAT!!!".....and so on. I was honest. I told them it was easy to lose weight that quickly when they take more than 1/2 you tummy. LOL. Then I saw her. The girl who was never really nice to me. She wasn't straight out mean, but we just never clicked. Then I heard the best words I could out of the mouth of a dear friend, " Did that girl have the same surgery you did? She had to have because look at all that skin on her arms and upper back. It's just HANGING there." I looked and by golly my friend was right! The person who used to make fun of me for being fat all through middle school and high school ended up gaining a lot of weight and she had to go through WLS. Now, I wasn't happy that she gained weight and couldn't get it off. I know what a struggle that is. What i was happy about was that she finally understood how I and a few others felt about her attacks in H.S. Karma really does exist.
So, the reunion ended up being amazing and I had a great time catching up with everyone. Now, I don't have a photo of that night...except for some face shots. But I will put those in with some face shots before surgery...and also some before clothed shots and then some photos from last night. I still can't believe the photos are of me. I walk by the mirror and wonder "who is that person" and when I figure out it me, I get really happy. I know WLS isn't easy....but I promise you it was the best decision I've ever made (except marrying my husband....no weight loss with ever measure up to him.)
Day of Surgery Size 26/28 top 24-26 pants
Night of Reunion
Last Night.....Size 18...shirt and pants!!!
It's been six months since my doctor removed 85% of my stomach. Since then, I haven't had any regrets...unless you take in consideration the thought that went through my head when I woke up while they were removing my breathing tube. But I don't count that since I was all drugged up and not thinking straight. Also, having Nurse Hatchet didn't help matters. However, with fall here and winter around the corner, I have to admit, there are a times I miss it a little. Not much, only a little bit. Like, I wish I had 25% of my stomach instead of 15%. Now, before you all go jumping on my back allow me to explain.
Tonight for dinner I made homemade chicken and dumplings. Now, that's bad enough for a sleever but I had to add more temptation to the mix. I had to make corn bread from scratch as well. I mean come on, you can't have one with out the other. It's just not Southern!!!! No self respecting Southerner would make chicken and dumplings with out making cornbread. And, though I'm not quite Southern...I'm below the Mason-Dixon line, so I'm close enough. LOL Also, I started feeling bad for my husband. Since my surgery, his diet has consisted of PB&Js and chicken. Not at the same time. But considering he's a meat and potato man, it's been a hard six months for him. He considers it a treat if I stop at McDonald's for him. Which is VERY hard for me as the smell has always turned my stomach but after surgery it's even worse.
So, I decided that if I were going to make him eat chicken again, I would make something he enjoys. I thought I would be fine with it. I know I can have about 1/4 a cup (a little less) of the chicken and dumplings (mostly chicken...maybe one or two dumplings) and maybe a bite of two of the cornbread. The problem is, I had forgotten how much I love both of these things. This is one thing my tastes buds did not change their opinion of....which isn't a good thing. Why couldn't they find both as disgusting as they find Whey protein? Or better yet, like Whey protein and hate the other?
So, after a little nibble of cornbread (a very little nibble), I wanted to eat the whole pan! This is the first time in six months that I've wanted to just gorge myself. Then, top it off with the chicken and dumplings and I actually had the thought of, "Man, I wish I had my stomach right now!" WHAT??? Why am I thinking thoughts like this? I know I won't over eat any of this yummy stuff in my kitchen but the thought of, "I would if I could", crossed my mind more than once.
Now, the reason I find this so strange is that I have always been a carb fanatic. I loved bread and pasta. I could eat a whole loaf of fresh baked bread in one sitting with no bad feelings. However, since surgery, I haven't really craved either things. Don't get me wrong, there are times I will have a little less than a 1/2 slice of wheat bread, toasted, with some type of protein but most times, i don't even think about it. That was not the case today. Those simple carbs wanted me and I have to admit, I wanted them. The attraction is still there despite how far we have both moved on with our lives.
So, with all this said, it's a good thing I only have 15% of my tummy. Because no matter how good either look, smell or taste....I wouldn't give up my 100+ pound weight loss for either things. That doesn't mean I can't dream about them...and how yummy a big bowl of chicken and dumplings and two or three slices of homemade, buttery cornbread would taste.....yes, I can dream and lose weight or I can eat and slime and possibly stretch my tummy out. I'll take that dream and weight loss any day of the week and twice on Sundays.
So readers, have you had anything like this happen to you yet? I think for me it has more to do with fall and winter coming and what I consider "comfort" food. All the warm, cheesy, gooey, stick to your ribs (and add pound after pound to your weight) has always been one if not the only good thing about a cold winter day. Looks like I'm going to have to find something else to take it's place....let's just hope it's not more chicken. I think my husband will finally leave me if I don't come up with something new for us to eat. I swear if he found a woman who cooked like I used to, he'd be a little tempted to cheat on me just for the food. Just kidding....I know he would never do it JUST for the food. LOL
Welcome. This blog is dedicated to all the people out there who didn't take the easy way out. It doesn't matter if you had the bypass, the sleeve, or the lap-band, it's not easy going through all the changes associated with weight loss surgery. This is why I wanted to bring some comedy to the table. I can't really bring anything else as I wouldn't be able to get it down but, laughter makes everything better and I hope this blog makes your experience just a little easier during those tough times.
I can't promise everything I type will be funny...hell, I can't even promise a little bit will be funny. All I can promise is that I will be honest, blunt, and sometimes I will look at situations a little differently than most people.
My name is Tricia and I have been fat my whole life. Even when I look back at photos of myself where I was "thin", I remember still feeling fat in compassion to my friends. However, I was always active and in shape so I didn't really let being the bigger one in my group bother me. Then when I was 20 years old and in college, I developed really bad back issues. In the past 17 years, I put on over 100lbs, began feeling like a blob, and I felt my self esteem fall drastically. Three years ago, I watched my sister, Cherie, go through gastric bypass surgery and I have to admit, watching her loose the weight made me very happy for her but not so happy with myself. I would watch her sit at family dinners and nibble on very little food and then announce how full she was. I remember thinking that I could never give up enjoying food like she did. But, the more she lost the more I thought about giving everything up just too be thin.
Then in December of 2010, my back finally gave out and I had to leave work. This was devastating for me as have always been a worker and the idea of going on disability was heart-wrenching for me. After many doctor's apts, I was told that I needed a new disc in my back but the only way to be able to have one is if I lost a LOT of weight. Apparently, fat people can't get new discs as the disc doesn't seem to set right. Who knew a titanium disc was so picky? So, I began the long process of nutrition classes, Life Skill classes, doctor's apts, and finally surgery. On April 12, 2012 I had Dr. Gail Wynn, from Christiana, De., remove a big portion of my stomach. Since then, I have experienced so many funny, strange, crazy things that I figured it would help if I shares some of them. I don't know if anyone will actually read this Blog, but at least I'm getting my thoughts out there. Hope you all enjoy them.
NOTE: As always, this is a funny look at the things that have happened/are happening as I continue on my weight loss journey. I in NO way plan to replace food with alcohol or need to be told how bad I am for drinking one night with a friend (mind you it's a friend I haven't seen in 15 years). Please don't feel the need to lecture me or get passive aggressive with your comments. As my regular readers know, I am just giving a comedic side to WLS. Also, remember that everyone's journey is different and just becasue I may or may not be doing it the same way you are, does not mean that I am better or worse than anyone else. Ok, I think I covered it all. As always, enjoy and I hope the story puts a smile on your face.
Sorry it's been so long since I've blogged but I've been one little busy beaver. I had my friend and her family in from Costa Rica, then my friend from Ireland came in for two weeks (she is still here), and while she was here, my brother-in-law and niece came for a two night visit. Needless to say, I've been the hostess with the mostest. I've really missed doing my blogs. They seem to keep me focused and help me put things in perspective. I've also not had time to do myfitnesspal.com. So, for about a week and a half, I haven't written any of my food intake down. That just makes me feel like I've been a bad, bad girl....and not in a kinky good way. (sorry, those hormones are still pouring out of the fat cells LOL)
Anyway, I have so many stories for you all. I wish I could just sit down and type them all for you but I can't so today I am going to let you know about my first drinking experience since the sleeve and the interesting things I've learned from that experience. I hope I can give you a good idea of how the night went as I am not sure if I remember it all....but more on that later.
First, you have to understand how I met my Irish friend Cat. 15 years ago, I worked and lived at the beach. Cat worked at the same place and even though she didn't live with me, I swear there were times I thought she did. We were 21/22 and we were having fun. We worked hard and played harder. We spent many nights at a bar across the street from my house and only a 1/2 block away from work. I somehow was able to keep up with all the Irish kids that were in town for the summer. I could go one for one with them with any drink (except Guinness. That stuff is REALLY thick). I was even told I had become an honorary Irish lassie ( I even learned most of the Irish pub songs that they sang). I tell you all this to explain that after 15 years, loosing more than 1/2 my stomach, and a lot of weight I for some reason thought I could still drink like a fish. Never mind the fact that I haven't drank in almost a year (except for an occasional glass of wine or a night cap).
So, we go into a local bar and order two drinks. I got a L.I.T (long island iced tea) as I have always enjoyed them when they are done well. As I drank my drink and did some catching up with my friend, I could feel the effects of the liquor seeping into my blood. I won't lie, I enjoyed it. Paying less to feel this way was great (before anyone freaks, I don't plan to go out drinking on a regular basis......BUT....it was nice to go out and spend less money and get tipsy). This is about the time I knew the night was getting ready to change. The bartender (a little bored) asked if we wanted shots. "Are you buying them for us?" I asked. Of course he wasn't but after talking it over with Cat, we decided, "Hey, why not"? Now as I explained already, I haven't seen Cat for a long time and we needed to go on "a tear". Patron it was. Lick. Slam. Suck. OHHHHH how smooth. Now, from that moment on, the night began to just blend together. I know I played pool...and lost. (wonder why!!!) The drinks went down easier than I ever remember them going down and I have to admit, I was enjoying myself. Through it all, I never felt “drunk”. I mostly felt tipsy and then I would feel mostly sober....then tipsy again...and so on and so forth. I never thought anything about it as I was having fun and enjoying being out and about...the alcohol was just an added positive.
Then, we decided to go to another bar only a block or two away. Now, you have to understand that drinking and feeling tipsy was a whole new experience to me. I would go from being (or should I say feeling) sober then in just a few moments, I would be “footloose and fancy free”. The back and forth wold happen so fast, it wouldn't make any sense but to be honest, I wasn’t trying to make sense out it as I really didn’t care.. So, when we left to go to the other bar, I REALLY thought I was sober...that is until the curb jumped up and tripped me. I know it grew at least a foot with out telling me. There is no way a sober gal, like myself, could have missed that curb. Then, as always, I did my thing. I fell. I fell hard...and I fell fast. My knee was the only thing between my face and the pavement and because of that it was all scrapped up. Even my hands had stones imbedded in them, and I am sure I messed up my back just a little more than it was. It was such a hard fall that even the person driving passed stopped to make sure I was alright. Poor Cat, was so concerned, and all I could say was, "Really, I had to fall TONIGHT?" LOL...then it happened. I felt DRUNK. I collected myself, raised myself up from the ground, dusted off my knees and hands and tried to focus on the person only a foot away from me. Needless to say, it took awhile to focus....mostly because my glasses went flying off my face were now in Cat’s hands. Not seeing well is only intensified when your half blind. LOL
Once I put on my glasses, Cat and I began the walk (she walked I stumbled) to the other bar. Then it hit me when we were almost there. I was sober. It was like I hadn’t had a drink at all. How was this even possible? So, I did what any sober person of sound mind and body would do....I ordered a drink. LOL As I was sipping on my drink, we decided to get something to eat. I also figured that maybe getting a little food in my tiny stomach may help....it didn’t. I still went back and forth from sober and drunk but now it was happening faster than I can even begin to describe.
After finishing up there, it was time to get home. Yes, we were safe about it and no, we didn't just wait for me to "feel sober".. I thought my husband would find my stories funny...and he did when I told them to him sober. But BAM, next thing you know I’m drunk again. This of course caused an argument. Now, I should be more honest. My lack of knowing when to just keep my mouth shut and go to bed is what caused the argument....nothing else. But for some reason I felt it would be a great idea to go for a walk. So I walked out the door and made it down three steps and then THUMP....yes, that’s right, I fell down the steps. I figured this would be a good time to go back inside with my head down and my tail between my legs. Once I did that and listened to my husband give me a very short lecture, I took my Tylenol and went to bed. When I awoke the next morning, I remembered why it was that I no longer drink like I am still in college and then I then looked at my knee. I should say I felt my knee...then I looked at it. Yep, it was bad. It was all scrapped up and swollen. It was so stiff that I was unable to walk down the steps of my condo to get to the pool. I felt like a total gimp having to take the elevator because I was sloppy drunk...or should I say a sloppy sober one minute, drunk the other person? Anyway, .I did get the to pool and worked it out. I had to as the day after my Irish drinking reunion, I had my 20th H.S. reunion (more on that tomorrow) and I figured I would have to be able to walk that night for it. It worked. I got my knee working (and ended up hurting my shin...not sure how), and I was ready to face all the people from H.S....or at least as ready as I'd ever be. Funny thing is, I was more upset to realize that I was no longer Irish!!! Apparently when they took my stomach, the doctors also took my Irish drinking crown as well. Needless to say, lesson learned. Funny thing is, I am sure it won’t be the first or the last lesson I learn after having this surgery....I mean it’s only been three months. But to be honest, this lesson was a fun one to learn...up to the point I fell down...no, that didn't damper the mood.....it was fun until I woke up the next day hung over. LOL
I have been walking since I woke up in the hospital. I have walked 2-5 miles a day since my surgery. So why oh why am I NOW getting blisters? As you can see, I have good sneakers (though old) and I wear socks when I walk. So why now do my feet look as though I have been running 10 miles a day? I think it's my body's way of fighting against all this positive eating and exercise. Whoever said eating well and exercising was good for you lied. That person was already thin and didn't have deal with all the changes that come along with changing your whole lifestyle.
For example, I am getting pimples in places that shouldn't be getting pimples. I think it's because for so many years the fat covered those areas and now that they are open to fresh air, they don't know what to do. I will say that they hurt and they are never in a place that make it easy to pop them. So, you have to deal with the pain until they decide to pop on their own. Also, the thin person didn't have to deal with chafing. It seems that the more I loose, the more I chafe. I guess the fat kept things from rubbing together and now, there is less fat, so my thighs are rubbing together while I walk, in an attempt to spark a fire. But, the only fire they are starting is the burning sensation of the chafing between my thighs. Not fun. I mean it may be funny, but it's really not fun to deal with. For the record, I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to provide a photo of those things for you to see. I don't want to scare away all my readers. Plus, there is no bigger person who doesn't know exactly what I am talking about. And, if you somehow managed to make it on this site with out ever having chafing, then you are lying or shouldn't be here.
Then, to top it all off, the other day I got blisters on the top of my feet. Then today I get them on the back of my feet. Are my feet loosing weight too? I can't figure out any other reason for this happening now. It didn't happen for the first three weeks, so why now? Is my body trying to tell me that my walks are pissing it off? Therefore, my body is going to rebel and cause me pain? I put band-aids on the blisters on top of my feet for my walk today. Only to have to stop in the middle of my walk due to the crazy pain coming from my heals. As you can see from the photo, today, I developed blisters on my heals too. I guess my heals felt left out of the rebellion my body was going through. Not any more. My heals have been welcomed to the party of causing me pain and they are enjoying themselves more than anything else right now.
I guess looking good is painful. If it was easy to be thin and in shape we wouldn't have had to go through major surgery to help us lose weight. Also, i have to think about it like this. Is this pain any worse than the pain of wearing a pair of jeans all day long that are too tight? You know what I am talking about. The pair that you had to lay on the bed and suck in to zip up and button. Sometimes we would even get some help with the closure. Once up we would pray that when we sat up they didn't split in half. The pair that dug into your stomach and left the deep red marks?! Those were painful!! At least the pain on my feet and other places will get better as I loose weight. Those jeans never seemed to get looser no matter what I tried. So, I much rather have this pain and know that soon those tight jeans will not fit at all because they are too big. Who would have ever thought that day would come? And, when it does...I will definitely take a photo and post it!!!!
I had indigestion prior to my sleeve surgery. It was rare, but when I did have it, it was bad. So, I got a pill to make it all better. When I looked into getting the sleeve, I was excited to see that my stomach juices would calm down and this feeling of wanting to just throw up would never happen again. Boy, was I wrong. I hate to say this, but it's only gotten worse. I went from taking my pill once a week to every day and I still feel the indigestion. Sometimes I wonder if the surgeon gave me some extra "stomach juice switches" and didn't tell me. That seems to be the only thing that makes sense to me. I don't eat things that I shouldn't, and I really don't eat much at all, so what is causing this other than my surgeon playing a trick on me?
Now, I know my surgeon didn't do anything to me except take out most of my tummy and staple the part she left. However, it feels as though she replaced my stomach with a volcano and all it wants to do is BLOW. I've never wished that I could just throw up but today, that is how I feel. I've tried everything. I've taken my meds, taken Tums, and even drank some milk. The milk seems to be the only thing that has worked except for the walking. However, I can't walk all night long. Last time I tried walking at night I almost got ran over. I would hate for my indigestion to cause me to end up in the hospital with broken bones because a stupid driver wasn't paying attention. So, I think I'll stick with the milk for now.
So, that's all. Nothing else to say. I just wanted to vent about the volcano and the acid that wants nothing more than to escape from mouth. A few weeks ago I wished to get rid of all the farting and burping. Now that this has started, I pray the farts and burps will come back....at least they didn't keep me up at night. Though I can't say the same for my poor husband.
I have always been very "normal" when it comes to going number 2. Ok, stop laughing. Yes, I am going to talk about bowel movements. I have always said I would be honest and open and this is something EVERYONE does. There is no need to be ashamed or shocked. If you feel uncomfortable reading about this, move on to another blog. I won't take it personal.
Ok, now that I've told everyone what's coming down the pipe (pun intended) we should all be ready for an open and frank discussion about poop. It's something that everyone does and after surgery, I have found that I do it much less than before. I used to go once or even twice a day. There were times where after a good poop (you know the kind I am talking about....the ones where when you're done you feel like you've lost five to ten pounds) I would feel lighter and have a little more energy. Now, I barely go. Then, to top it off, it's never easy. I can't just get the feeling and go sit on the toilet for five or ten minutes. Nope, I get the feeling and end up spending a half an hour in there listening to "plop, plop,plop." It's never a nice S shape poop that you hear Dr. Oz always talk about. It's more like there is a very large rabbit in my colon. And, I have the poop to prove it. Well, I don't have it sitting next to me in a bowl or anything. That would just be gross. I just mean that when I do poop it comes out in small little nuggets. I have tried everything. I have added fiber to my drinks, taken stool softeners, and even laxatives. The only change is that the little things come out a little easier.
Now, the reason I am writing about this is to see if anyone else is having this issue and if so how are you dealing with it. Also, is this normal and does it get better over time. I will be honest, I don't think I can live with a rabbit in my colon for the rest of my life....I don't care how thin I am. Wait, I take that back. I used to say I would do anything to be thin....I guess little nugget poop is my "anything".
******As always, this blog is intended to make you smile. Please refrain from thinking I will kill my husband, jump over the Royal Farms counter for chicken, or sexually assault my husband...well, that last one may happen thanks to all the hormones. Needless to say, use this blog to smile and laugh. Enjoy. *****
I will be the first to admit that losing 40 pounds in six weeks is A LOT of weight in a very short amount of time. I am not saying that I am unhappy with my progress, but I have begun to notice some strange changes to my body that I didn't expect so soon. For example, who is the old woman who's stomach I have gotten? Let me explain. My stomach has shrunk and I am very happy about that. I have walked 3-5 miles a day with my stomach muscles nice and tight so that I could combat the excess skin (as much as I can) and I figured that if I were to get extra skin, i wouldn't notice it for at least 6-10 months.
Well, that's not the case. Last night I was looking in the mirror at my every changing body and I noticed something. Right around my belly button (which I can see for the first time in years), the skin above it and next to it looks like an old woman's (no offense to the 80 year olds out there reading this). It's all wrinkled and makes my tummy look much older than 37 years. Then to make matters worse, I showed it my husband only to hear this: "Yea, I noticed that awhile ago." UMMMM, excuse me? Don't you think you should have told me there was an eighty year old trying to escape via my stomach? He answered with this, "I figured you knew". Again, thanks my love for your soothing and understanding during this shocking time for me. It's not everyday someone notices their body is changing for the worse.
Now, the way my husband handles this is by saying, "Don't worry, you can always have surgery to have that fixed." What I don't get is when did we become wealthy? I have no idea where all the money for my plastic surgery is supposed to come from. Does the weight I lose turn into gold of the same weight? So far, my husband has told me I could get my breasts lifted and "filled" (He already misses them and they haven't shrunk THAT much), my tummy tucked, and now lifted in the upper part. I can't wait to see what other plastic surgery I am allowed to get once this is all done. He must be hiding all that gold somewhere, because as far as I can see, I can barely afford to pay for gas in the car to drive my butt around let alone find the money to lift my butt or any other part of my body surgically.
So, for now, the old lady and I will have to live in harmony. Lucky for me, I have no desire to wear skimpy shirts that show off my tummy....or should I say lucky for the rest of the world. For now, I will continue doing what I am and then once we win the lottery, plastic surgery here I come. LOL
My body is going crazy. it can't make up it's mind about what size it wants to be. Only two days ago, I was 10lbs lighter....yes, 10lbs. Now, I know this all water weight but it still sucks. I thought maybe I over ate too much during my BPDs (big pouch days) the past two days, but according to myfitnesspal.com, I didn't go that overboard. So, that means one of two things. I am getting more lean muscle or I am getting ready have a visit from Aunt Flow. Either way, I am fine with it. I am just getting frustrated with staying over 200lbs. My goal was to be at least 199 by Christmas, and I really don't see that happening.
I hate to admit that I concern myself about the numbers on the scale, but I do. The sane person in me can see I'm losing inches and that all of my clothes are way to big for me. I am seeing bones I never knew I could show and I'm excited to say that out of all the chins I've had in the past, I like this single one the most. BUT....there is always a BUT.....I want the scale to go down regularly (or at least stay on the same number). Nope, that's not me. My scale jumps around more than a child skipping rope. It's always between 5-10lbs, but still, no one wants to get to a number only to weigh themselves a few days later and see that that number has jumped up in a attempt to do a slam dunk for the winning points of a playoff game.
I know not to let this get me down, but it still does. Even though my food intake doesn't change much from day to day, I start thinking, "what can I eat less of today?" Why can't I just look at myself and say, "Look how far you've come" ? Are we so mentally damaged form years of being overweight that we can't see the positives of how much we've lost already? Again, I KNOW my thoughts are not helping me but I can't help but think them. You know the ones, "I am going to fail at this." "I suck", "I'm still just a fat girl with no control".....there are so many more that I would take up this whole site but I refuse to allow them to take over completely. Instead, I am going to ban the scale for a couple of weeks. That's right, I am going to say so long to something so small making me feel so bad.
I've put a lot of thought in this and I am starting to think that the scale is my new drug of choice. Food used to do it for me, but not anymore. Now, I go to the scale to feel better even though sometimes it makes me feel worse. Think about it, we go from eating to feel good...then feeling really bad about what we ate to going to the scale to feel better. If the scale doesn't make us feel the way we want, we start getting down on ourselves. We start self doubting and trying to justify our actions or lack of them. We come up with excuses (my period is starting, It's water weight) and to be honest, these are probably right. However, none of this helps up feel better except seeing those numbers continuing to go down.
So I say farewell to the scale and the ups and downs it's given me (both physically and emotionality). My plan is to hand it over to my husband for two weeks and then check my weight again at that time. Then, if it hasn't changed then I know it's me and I have to make some changes....if it goes down, then maybe my love of the scale will come back....I hope not....it's worse than a bad relationship....nice to you one day and a pain in the but the next....and that's not something I look for in any relationship especially one I can't have an argument with.
* As Always, this is a comical view of weight loss surgery. I hope it makes you smile and if you're lucky, maybe even laugh.* For the full disclaimer, please read yesterday's blog post. **
It' been a little over two weeks and I have been following the plan. I get my protein and liquids in. I exercise almost every day. For the most part I think I am doing well. I have even managed to make it through the crazy mood swings which if you would have asked me a week ago I would have told you they would have been the cause of my marriage falling apart. I should have known things were going too well.
Last night around 9pm, I was starving. I have noticed the past couple of days I have been hungry around this time but I have just tried to focus on my liquids to fill me up. Well, last night I had to go to Walmart to pick up a few things. I figured getting out and doing something would help me stop wanting food. I also thought that maybe while I was there, I could find something soft that was high in protein that I could have as a snack. I couldn't have been more wrong.
My husband came with me because he too wanted something to snack on. Of course his snacks can range from potato chips, ice cream, little Debbie cakes, or anything else he he is in the mood for. Mind you, earlier he had pizza for dinner while I had my 2oz of tuna and my 2oz of lima beans. The smell of the pizza made me want to run across the room, jump on top of him and rip the slice of pepperoni pizza out of his hands. I didn't do this, but I did visualize it many times while taking my little bites of tuna and lima beans. And, no matter how hard I tried, the tuna never magically began to taste like pizza.
For the record, I am a strong woman. I can handle walking through the chip and candy aisle in the store. I can handle buying my husband things I won't be able to eat for over a year, and I can handle knowing that the surgery was not the end all be all of my weight loss. I am going to have to watch what I eat, get my protein in, and not eat sugar. What I couldn't handle last night for some reason was the realization that I can't have any of that stuff NOW.
The strange thing, which I tried to explain to my husband, was that I really didn't want candy, or chips, or sugar. I just wanted something that wasn't mush. i wanted something with some crunch and I only wanted a a small bite of it. But, no matter how I tried to explain it, I couldn't get my point across. My poor husband seemed so confused when i finished explaining my feelings. He kept trying to "fix it" by coming up with options (which none of them sounded good at all) which only made him feel frustrated for not being able to help. Then, it all boiled up inside of me. While my husband was deciding between sugary item 1 vs. sugary item 2, I lost it. I became the crazy witch that I thought I buried a week ago. Somehow she managed to claw her way up thought the dirt of her shallow grave and rear her ugly head. I finally snapped. I told him to buy them both so we could get out of there. He didn't get it. He continued to do the pros and cons between the two. I couldn't handle it. I grabbed both things and threw them in the cart before he could say another thing. I somehow made it through the check out line and out the door before I lost it. Once outside, the tears came. I couldn't even explain why I was crying. I didn't regret my surgery. I wasn't mad at my husband for getting real food and snacks. I just felt tired. Tired of trying to explain myself to my husband, tired of not having anything to eat that I really enjoyed. Tired of eating the same thing two times a day. I tried to voice my emotional breakdown but as much as my husband tried to understand, I couldn't even make my emotions make sense to me. Then again, what crazy person can make their craziness sound reasonable to others? That would be like being in an insane asylum am telling the doctor, "yes, I hear voices, and I know they aren't real so I think the medication and shock treatment would be the appropriate form of therapy right now." That doesn't happen, so why I thought I could explain my craziness, I can't even begin to understand.
I wish I could say that once I cried and got it all out, I felt better but I would be lying. I still want something different to eat. I miss bread. I miss chips, and I really miss ice cream. But I have to keep thinking that all those things were a huge cause of me getting to the point of having weight loss surgery. Why I want them now, I have no idea. Like I said, I think it's more that I want the option to have them more than I actually want them,. I don't want anything sweet. I don't want salty food. If you would have told me that I couldn't eat tuna, lima beans or apple sauce, I would be craving that. It's all psychological. Not that knowing that makes it easier. It actually makes me feel weak knowing it's in my head and I am still having it affect me like this.
Hopefully, my husband won't have to deal with the crazy crying lady again anytime soon. He doesn't like to see me like that and it makes him feel like he can't eat his foods in front of me. Despite me telling him numerous times that I don't care. I can see how the mixed signals could confuse him. I turned into that woman who says "No, I don't want anything for my birthday." but when my birthday comes I get upset he didn't give me a gift. If I was him, I wouldn't want to eat in front of me ever again. The poor man is walking a tight rope with no net under him. I think he's having it worse than I am even though I'm the one crying. The poor man thinks I think he's a monster when in reality, I'm the crazy witch that can't get her emotions under wraps. Hopefully for him and I, things will level out soon and my cravings will go away. If they don't, I may just rip that pizza out of his hands one night.
Ask anyone, I am not a numbers person. Math and science were not my strong points in school. Heck, I am not even sure they were a weak point with me. They seemed to be more nonexistent than anything. In high school, I fought to get a D in Chemistry and Geometry. I was good at Algebra, but most any other math based classes were able to strike fear in my heart with out even trying. My father never understood this as he was a math person. he could do almost any math problem in his head and within seconds. This only made my fear of math that much bigger. How could he make it so easy? Was I just an idiot who didn't get it? Would I ever get it? Did my IQ test lie? I must have scored much lower than the numbers said. Why else would I not be able to do what others considered simple math.
Then, when I was 26 years old, my now husband brought all those insecurities back on our first date. We were playing Trivia Pursuit and he got a geometry questions. I knew there was no way he would get the pie. I was feeling really good about my standing n the game when he asked for a pen and paper. "WHAT? You have got to be kidding me!!" He then rattled off the theory he needed to use and then proceed to plug int he numbers and draw designs I hadn't seen since high school. Needless to say, he got the answer right and won the pie piece. Right then, all my doubts came flooding back. Then jokingly I asked if he was some kind of a genus. He didn't want to answer but once pressed, he told me his IQ was 165. I just shook my head. How did I end up on a date with my father?
Now, I am not telling you this story in an attempt to say, "Look how smart my husband is!!!!! He's so cool. He can do math problems in his head." No, that is not my reason at all. I am telling you this in a feeble attempt to get you to understand that math and i have have a "hate, hate" relationship most of my life. With that said, I know I am still able to do simple math. But, after this surgery I am not sure if that statement is true anymore.
I joined Myfitnesspal.com yesterday. I logged in everything I ate and all the workouts I did. Every time I walked, I log it in with the amount of calories I burned. Now, it takes 3200 calories to make a pound. Which implies that if I burn more calories than I take in and it adds up to 3200 calories, I would lose a pound of fat. That to me makes sense. Well according to Myfitnespal.com, I burn/don't take in 1518 calories a day and have been doing this for the past eight days. I know this as I eat the same thing every day and work out around the same amount. With that being said, I should have lost a pound every other day (approximately) give or take a pound here and there. Now, if my math is right....and I will be the first to say that it may not be....I should have lost between 4-6 pounds in the last eight days. How may have I lost? NONE. ZIP. Absolutely nothing.
Now, I keep telling myself that I've been walking a lot, and I am sure I building muscle. But even knowing that, I think, doesn't muscle help burn more fat? So I am stuck back to the question, "Why isn't math working?" Is it because I am doing the math? Remember, math doesn't like me. So this could be it's attempt to get back at me after all the years I called it stupid. Maybe I hurt it's feelings and now it's out for revenge. I've even thought that maybe there are little math gremlins that stand on the scale with me (that I can't see over my belly) to make it does not change numbers. All I know is I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.
I know not to expect miracles. However, I did expect to lose weight once a week. I didn't care if it was a little or a lot. Even though I've read so many people say that there are times the scale just doesn't move, it still bothers me. When I run the numbers, it seems like I should have some downward movement. but I don't. Don't worry, I am not going to stop doing what I am doing. I will continue to follow my program and get in my protein and my liquids. Maybe I should give the math question to my father and husband and see what they come up with. Lord knows they are much better at the numbers thing than I am.
I will say this. If I don't see some movement (downward) in my scale soon....I am going to on math hunt. I promise that I will hunt down all those little gremlins and make them regret all the times they messed with me. Don't they know I'm sensitive right now? This is not the time for jokes when it comes to my weigh in. You will pay gremlins...you hear me? You will pay!!!
As you are all now aware, I have MAJOR back issues. So, getting in any exercise can be difficult for me. I can't wait for the pool to open up and warm up so that I can do water work outs. Dreaming about that puts a smile on my face. Anyway, back to reality. For now, I walk when I can and I walk as much as I am able to. I have had days that all I could do was .10mile, and I've had 5 mile days. Either way, I tell myself I did something and it's more than I did before my sleeve so I'm doing better than I was before.
I didn't tell you all that to get a pat on the back or to be told how great it is I walk. Nope, I told you because I need you to understand that if I can walk, I want to walk. I want to walk out my door, put on my headphones, blast my music, set my endomundo (an app that tells me how far I've gone), and WALK. I don't want to have to stop and pet the neighbor's dog, or be forced into idle conversation for 10 mins. Who thinks it's ok to stop someone on a major power walk to talk about the weather? Now, please don't get me wrong here. I will wave and say hello. I may even slow down and give "Lucky" a quick pet and tell how cute he is. What I will not do is stop completely. Therefore, I am the keep walking talker. I will turn around and listen to you as you talk and place my life in danger as I can no longer see the on coming traffic, in an attempt for you to understand that I DO NOT WANT TO STOP. But, that doesn't seem to work often. I will walk in place so you can see you're annoying me but that seems to have no affect as well. I've even taken to walking at night so that other people won't be outside. All that did was get me almost hit by a speeding car. If I had been walking backwards, I would have surely been splattered on that person's windshield. That happened just last night and yes, I had a flashlight and it was on. The worst part of that experience is my back was so bad but I wanted to get something in. I should have just stayed inside.
In the past month, this is what I've learned to keep people away as I walk. I am the first to wave and smile. I say hello but I DO NOT remove my ear plugs. That way if they say more than hello, I don't really hear it. Second, I keep walking and look straight ahead after waving and saying hello. I do not want to give anyone the idea that I want to talk. i want them to see I am on a mission and they are not included in my plans. Lastly, I refuse to acknowledge dogs. This one is hard for me because I love dogs. But I've found if Lucky can get me off my game, you can talk and that causes me to not be walking.
With all this said, please know that I am not a mean person. I just like to focus on my task at hand and I do not like someone diverting me from that task. I will continue to be pleasant, but don't expect me to stop my exercise (the little I am able to get) and have a conversation with you. If you want to chit chat, meet me at the neighborhood pool in a couple of weeks. I can chat while in the water doing leg kicks....and you won't even know I'm working out. That way, we are both happy and I no longer seem like a witch.
Today we are going to talk about the high price of gas. Not the kind you buy at the pump, but the kind we expel from our bodies. Don't pretend like you don't fart...we all do. And, if you've had WLS, you are probably like me and have more gas now than you have EVER had in your life. I am not sure if it's the extra vitamins, the fiber, or just the fact of the surgery, but my gas and bloating has increased 1000xs. If you don't believe me, you can ask my husband...and my chiropractor (more on that later).
Now, I grew up in a home where farts weren't something that were hidden. I mean we learned to have some respect about them. Don't do it in public, or in front of company, and if you can, leave the room before you release your gas out of respect to the others in the room. We also learned that it was something that EVERYONE does. Except my sister....but I still swear she's lying through her beautiful teeth. It's not something to be ashamed of, but you still shouldn't just let one rip in the middle of a restaurant or a store. Or even worse, be one of those people who does the silent by deadly ones and then acts like it's someone else's and complains about about the smell (yes, I'm talking about you, oh hubby of mine)
After surgery, we all learn the need to expel the gas in our bodies any way we can. It helps with the healing process and we're told it's a good thing. Also, after surgery, they don't really stink so no matter how loud or silent. That is no longer the case.
After almost eight months, I have learned that no matter what, I am now a fart machine. I can no longer hold then like I could before surgery. Hell, sometimes I don't even know they are looking for a way out until POOF....and there I stand or sit looking just as shocked as everyone else. I fart in public, even when I try so hard not to. I fart in my sleep. I fart in the morning, afternoon, and evening. And, to make it worse, I no longer have those no smell farts. Nope, now I have the ones that should be bottled and sold to the US military as a gas agent. It's worse than mustard gas. I know, I made some once...not on purpose. My cat peed outside the litter box and I thought the best way to deal with it was to pour bleach on it and then wipe it up. WRONG. My eyes began to burn, my throat became itchy and tight, I even became light headed. I literately had to leave and wait for about an hour before I could return to finish cleaning.......YES, that is now what I can produce off 10 oz of food a day at most. And since I know there is no way I am alone here, I decided to tell you a few funny stories.
1. The Best Alarm Clock Ever Made
The other night, my husband fell asleep on the couch. This is nothing new as he seems to think that the T.V. + couch =sleep. So, I continued to watch the movie that I had on. Around an hour and half after he dozed off, I felt it. The need to let some gas out. I knew I had been lucky all day and they had not been foul smelling so i figured that since he was asleep, I would not leave the room (which I do try to do since I had surgery). So, Poof....there it is. And within seconds, I smell it. It was the worst smelling fart of my life. It didn't just say hello and leave. No, it became an unwelcome guest and decided to stay and watch the show with me. Now, to make matters worse, my husbands head was closer to my backside than my front side. Our couches are in an L shape and I was leaning the other way. Therefore, this fart was a dead bulls-eye for my husbands face. "Stay asleep, Stay asleep" I kept thinking over and over. Then I saw it. The twitch of his nose, the squint of his eyes....the toss and turn....and BAM, he's awake. Now, I didn't say anything at first. But after about 2mins, he says, "I am so sorry i must have been really gassy in my sleep. It stunk so bad it woke me up from a dream!" Now, I have an out. Do I take it and tell him it's alright and it happens to all of us? NOPE. I fess up. His response, "Oh thank goodness, I was wondering when my farts became so deadly!!" Yes, that's right, I out farted a man and even he admitted that my fart was worse than ANY he had ever had. I hate to agree with him, but I think he's right.
2. The Chiropractor (the day after the alarm clock fart)
So, as you can imagine, I'm still gasy and they still smell horrible. But, i still went to my chiropractic appointment becasue to be honest, I needed a really good crack. Now, before I went back, the doctor, receptionist and I were chatting and I tell a story about when I let out a small toot in my old chiropractor's office (no smell) and how embarrassed I was. I must have said I'm sorry a million times. We all got a good laugh and when I was called back, I told myself that no matter what, i was not allowed to let gas out any hole...no matter what!!! So, we do the adjustment and she goes to put these blocks under my thighs (they help alignment) and right then, poooooffff. It was silent and that scared me to death. So, i knew I had to fess up. I mean come on, if it was even half of what the one yesterday was like then they wouldn't be able to use that room for days. So, I told her. I turned red. I told her about waking up my husband and that if it stinks, I am SOOOOOO Sorry. She laughed and finished up with me and even thanked me for my honestly. Apparently most people don't even say anything.....like she won't know it was them. LOL. Well, I thought I was off the hook. i thought for sure it was odorless. So as I was grabbing my keys and phone, I hear my doctor say this, "So-and-So, can you please go spray down that room once Trish leaves?" i am not sure how I managed to make it out of there with any dignity. Lucky for me I have a very good doctor with a wonderful sense of humor. That is the only reason I'm not looking for a new doc to crack my back now.
So, I have finally given in to the fact that I am a gassy woman. No matter how hard I try, i can no longer be lady like all the time. I know I can't be the only one of us out there with stories like this....so what's your most embarrassing gas story since surgery? I would love to know...or else I'm just going to feel like an all alone fart queen. And, that's one title NO woman wants.....EVER!!!!
Last Friday I went into my old place of work to see my old workers and co-workers. Despite the stress of the job, I have to admit, I really liked what I did and the people I worked with. Some of these people haven't seen me at all since my weight loss. Others have not seen me in a few months. So, it was interesting to see the looks on people's faces when I came in. Most would scream in delight to see me and then focus on my weight loss. I heard so many positive things that I felt like I should go up there once a month just to get the support. I was surprised that I didn't get any mean comments or people who were passive aggressive about it. To be honest, i really expected it with a few people.
The shock on everyone's face was so extreme that it made me start thinking, "was I really THAT big before?". Well, one of my old workers had a photo of me (a couple actually) from my wedding shower. I took a good look at them and I have to admit, I was HUGE. I am not sure why I thought I wasn't that big. I mean when it was taken I weighed around 290. But like I have said before in my blog, I never felt fat. I mean, I knew i was I just didn't let that run my life. I refused it to get me down. There were times it did, but at a whole, I was happy. Don't get me wrong, I would have been much happier if I was a size a 10 but we can't always get what we want (according to the Rolling Stones anyway).. But, even though I was happy with who I was, I knew I would be much happier if I wasn't on all the meds i was on for my medical issues. At my age, it really bothered me to have to so many pills daily. That's one big reason I had the surgery....and now I am off them off (except my pain meds) and much happier with myself.
Now, as I was driving home I started thinking. Why is it that no matter how content we are with our body (big or small), we always feel so much better about ourselves when we have people give us that double take look. Sure, it's better when it comes from the opposite sex, but even getting it from the same sex can put an extra bounce in your step. It sure did for me. Does that make me one of "those people". You know the kind. The ones that strive for the double take, especially from the opposite sex (or same sex if that's your thing). Am I turning into the girl that I've always made fun of/ You know the one. The one who always looks great. Who bats her eyelashes too much, shakes her but even when there is no music on, and always wheres a push up bra and a low cut shirt only to bend over in front of the person they want to get a reaction from? The more I thought about it, the more I was positively sure the answer was NO!!!!
Just for a laugh...hope you like it. Reminds me of Joey from "Friends"
Those girls don't have high self esteem and need to get reassurance from people who are only looking at their body. I am far from that woman. I am the woman who my whole life never felt like men found her attractive. I am the girl who was only asked out once in high school and to be honest, i am still not sure if that was a date or not. I am the girl who's self esteem through all that stayed very high (thanks to my wonderful parents) and I was able to see the difference between outer beauty and inner beauty. And, I didn't need someone to want me just to have a pretty girl on his arm. I wanted someone who wanted a pretty girl with brains and a sense of humor. It took me awhile to find that man, but when i did, i kept him close.
But, with all that said, I am human. I like to be admired. I like to be looked at in a way that says, "Damn she's hot!". I mean let's be honest. Who wouldn't? So, I will continue to bask in the glory of the double takes and smiles, the positive feedback, and the flirting that happens from men I've known for years. I will take it all in and then come home to a my husband and tell him how happy I am to have in in my life. A man who loves me for every part of me....big or small....crazy or sane....pensive or talking his ear off for hours....yes, that's the person for me. And as I have done for 11 years, i will always do a double take when he walks in the room and wonder, "Damn, how did I get so lucky?"
I am going to sound very self centered and almost narcissistic but I have to say this. I have BEAUTIFUL hair. My whole life, my hair has been my pride and joy. I was overweight, but at least my hair was beautiful. Now, with all that said, when I had this surgery, my BIGGEST fear (again, I am going to be very self centered here) was loosing my hair or having it become thin. That would just devastate me. So, I made sure I took all my vitamins, got all my protein in and followed the program. And, things were fine. I even had someone with by-pass surgery tell me, "You know, you're hair will change...or even fall out." I laughed. There is NO way MY hair was doing any of that..........
Fast forward five months. I notice more hair falling out than normal. In the shower, I am getting more hair when I ring the water out of it. I look down at the drainage in the shower daily and am disgusted at the amount of my hair that I have to throw away. NOOOOOOOOOOO this can NOT be happening. I can NOT be loosing the one thing that gave me confidence my who life. The again, that would be my luck. I am not the person that gets everything she wants or even everything she works REALLY hard for. I am the type of person who saves for a trip and one month before the trip, something happens and BAM there goes the money. It's just my luck...or lack of luck.
So, here's my question to you all. Have you lost your hair? If so, when and how much? Did it come back? Did it change in texture? Give me answers please!! I am so not looking forward to my hair being more attached to the drain than it is to me. I know I don't ask it much, but PLEASE HELP A GIRL OUT???!!!!! Thanks in advace!
I love laying out. The sun energizes me, and I feel so much better after being outside all day. So, when the weather is like it has been, I lay out at the pool. I enjoy getting a nice tan and I spend a lot of time in the pool as well. In order for me not get strap marks on my arms, I pull them down and tuck them in the top part of my suit. I've done this for years with no problem, as my boobs filled out the suit and kept it up. Well, the past few days, I've noticed that I have to be a little more careful with my suit if I go under water or move around a lot. I have to make sure I hold the suit near my boobs so that no one gets a R rated show for free. This has worked for me...until yesterday.
Now, here is how it all went down. My friend (you remember, the one from Costa Rica) is back in town with her daughter and husband and we all went to the pool. I was playing with the little girl while keeping an eye (and hand) on my chest. Then, it happened. I had a moment of forgetfulness. I picked up the little girl...tossed her to the side and then POP...out came the boobs....nice and perky from the cold water and at attention for everyone to see. I quickly went under water while pulling up my suit. I thought I made it with out anyone seeing then BAM there he was. He was sitting out on a lounge chair with this great big grin on his face. I knew right then that my boobs had a new admirer and he didn't care that they were a little (or a lot) droopy and smaller than they have been in years. He got a free boob show and his grin showed me he approved with what he saw. Right then, I decided that I needed to wear the new bathing suit I bought.
So, today I wore the new suit only to find out that one of the straps is coming undone and needs to be sewn. So, tomorrow, I will have to wear the old one. The one that wont stay up with out some support. Support that my droopy boobs can't give. So, I will have to give in and wear the straps or just accept that I may give a few more guys a show.....humm....white straps on my arms or showing off my boobs for a few strangers????? What will I do. I hate to say it, but there may be some very happy men at the pool tomorrow and Monday. Now, I wonder how my husband will feel about this once I read this to him.....maybe he will want to see them now....I got it, I think I'll read it to him with my shirt off and boobs out...that way he won't be listening to me. Yes, that will work very well. So, here I go, Shirt off....lets hope he is more interested in the boobs than what I am saying....we've been together for 12 years so you never know how this will end...but I'll let you know.
Ok, did it....He held on to every word....but he did glance down once or twice...that's pretty good after 12 years.
As many of you know, I have eaten the same thing for three weeks. Most of the time, it was the same thing two times a day for three weeks. Well, all that changed today. Today I made myself chicken salad. I put the chicken in the magic bullet and added some onions and celery (very finely chopped) and a little mayo. And, in case you were wondering, it tasted amazing!!!! Not as amazing as my husbands mashed sweet potatoes with cinnamon, nutmeg, all spice, and splenda. That was heaven. It was almost as good as carrot cake. Side bar* I love carrot cake. Actually, it's more than that. There is nothing better than a moist carrot cake with really good cream cheese icing. The way it melts in your mouth!!! YUMMY is all I can say. * side bar done. And, as you can tell, being almost as good as carrot cake is like wining the Kentucky Derby if carrot cake is the triple crown. So, today I enjoyed two very yummy things that were not bad for me and I felt full after eating them. My husband's mashed sweet potatoes not only took care of my starch craving, it also took care of my sweet craving. He seems to know just what I need and how to give it to me when I need it. Even when I have no idea.
I don't know how he knew what I needed. Maybe I was getting cranky again or maybe he tracks my cycle unbeknownst to me. But all I asked for was sweet potatoes and he somehow took them and made them so much more than I could have even thought about wanting. I know when I read this to him, he's going to be like a kid in a candy store hearing all this positive feedback, because the one thing he loves it to is cook. But what he loves even more than that is me liking what he cooks. So, Scott (my husband) just so you know, you are an amazing cook and you surprise me all the time with your ability to take something so "everyday" and turn it into a "vacation".
Now that all the mushy stuff is out of the way. No pun intended with the mashed potatoes. I did have one strange thing happen to me today while I was enjoying my new food. First, you have to know that after almost a month, I still can't really tell when I am full. I know it takes awhile to figure this out, but I have so many strange sounds and feelings, that I don't know which ones mean what. So, today I was eating my YUMMY chicken salad and I had eaten about 1.5ounces. I figured I could eat the other .5 ounces with out issue. I knew I was close to being full just due to the amount I ate not because of any magical feelings I had. So, I took my last bite and BAM...I felt like everything in my stomach (all 2.5 ounces of it) was going to make a reappearance right there on the table. I ran to the bathroom and experienced the spitting and salty mouth but nothing else. After about three minutes of spitting, I felt fine. Has this happened to anyone else? I was so shocked by it all. It was the first time my body has said, "Hey Trish, you ate WAY too much and I can't handle it." I wanted to scream back to my body, "Hey Body, NO, I really didn't. You just don't know how to handle more than 2.5 ounces of food. Maybe if you didn't allow a surgeon to take 2/3 of your stomach away, we wouldn't be having this issue." But then I remembered that I am the one who asked the doctor to do that...so I would lose that battle with my body within seconds. For the record, I don't like to lose....unless it's weight.
So, I learned two very important things today. Number one: I can only handle about an ounce of chicken salad at a time. Number Two. I will have to make sure I have sweet potatoes on hand at all times. Then again, if I don't maybe my wonderful husband will create another food miracle Humm, that's a tough one to decide. I really like the sweet potatoes, but maybe there is something better....just not as good as carrot cake.
As a social worker I have counseled many different types of people. I have counseled teenagers (my favorite), young children, addicts, adults, families, relationships (well the people in them), and just about any other type of person you can think of. I facilitated one on one sessions as well as group sessions and I loved both. However, I did enjoy facilitating group counseling the most. Seeing the dynamics of a group and watching it come together to help everyone involved in the group is an amazing thing. I have also always been a true believer that group counseling works becasue people listen to others who are going through or have been through the same issues they are going through. As a counselor, it's not really professional for me to tell clients what I've experienced personally but in a group setting, once trust is developed, the pure honesty that comes from the participants is better than any counseling I can give one on one...no matter how good I am at my job...and trust me, I'm good!!! LOL
Now, after reading that, I am sure you will find it comical that I have never been a fan of group counseling for myself. Leading the group is one thing but being part of the group and being completely open and honest with people I don't know is something far different. It falls in the "Do as I say, not as I do" category. Now, mentally I know group therapy works. I know it's far better than any one on one counseling session. But I still have never been able to bring myself to be part of a group counseling session for any reason. This is why when my doctor gave me a schedule for the local weight loss surgery groups in my area I politely smiled, said "thank you" and then gently placed it in the the garbage can when she left the room. I'm a very strong woman and the thought of being in a group listening to people cry over not being able to eat that candy bar, or better yet, eating the candy bar that they bought (even though they KNEW it was bad for them) is not on the top of my list of fun ways to spend an evening. This journey is tough enough that I don't need to hear people wine every week about their cravings. We all have cravings....we all know how to deal with them....either find something else to do or give into it. If you chose to give into it DO NOT CRY over the melted chocolate and stringy caramel that is now smeared all over your face. Trust me, tears and melted chocolate DO NOT mix well. I know that from personal history. Add ice cream to the mix and you just have a big ole mess and no one wants ice cream with tears in it. The tears take away the pure sugary taste and add salt....not good I tell you (again, personal experience) I know I sound mean and rude, and I don't mean to. I am just being honest about how I feel about these things. If I offended anyone, please hear me out before you write me a hateful comment.
With all that out there, I still believe we all need some type of support to help us through this. If groups work for you than that is great. I know they work for many people and can be used as an amazing tool. If you get enough support from your family and friends then you are very lucky as many things I've read on this site have shown me that many families aren't supportive (even significant others who seem to almost work against the person who is going through this life change). I have been very lucky. I have great friends and an amazing family and husband that have given me more support than anyone could ask for. They are all great at seeing the weight loss and noticing the changes in my food choices. But, and this is a BIG but, they don't REALLY understand what it's like to go through this EVERY day. They don't understand the mental lashing we give ourselves if we didn't make it to the gym, or if we went over out calorie goal for the day (even if we only went over by 20 calories). And let's be honest, sometimes the ones closest to us just don't know how to say the right thing (as shown below)
Being overweight, we become very good at mentally abusing ourselves. No matter how big the smile on our face is, it's only hiding the constant negative thoughts bouncing around the rubber room known as the brain. "Why did I eat that?" "You're never going to lose weight", "Maybe I supposed to be fat since I haven't lost anything in a month".....and so many more. Some of the inner attack thoughts can get so bad that we end up sobbing only to tell anyone who asks that we're crying due to PMS. I mean who wants to admit to anyone (especially the people we love the most) that the surgery was the easiest part....it's the mental stuff that will take so much longer to overcome than the learning to eat properly.
So, being of semi sound mind and body, I have to admit....I found my own type of group counseling, and it works great for me!!! I am on Myfitnesspal.com and though it took me awhile to ask for "friends", I am so glad I did. It's amazing what having a group of people who are going through EXACTLY what I'm going through has done for me. Seeing others with the same thoughts and the same concerns makes me feel not as crazy. Also, having people who know how difficult this is, cheering you on for ever little step, is amazing. I truly feel as though I have found my "sisters in weight loss". They build me up when I'm having a bad day, they listen and answer questions (no matter how far out there), and I do the same for them. Having these relationships that are truly 50/50 has made this process so much easier. It's made me feel not as alone or misunderstood. I enjoy logging in to the site to log in my food intake and seeing how others are doing on their journey. I love reading their positive reinforcements that they leave for others and for me. I love being able to give them the same type of positive reinforcement. I love having support!!! It's even better when the support is better than any I've found from a bra since my surgery. No matter how hard I try, these suckers need more than an under-wire and some positive reinforcement from me to stay up and at attention. (Sorry for the side bar)
So, it's official, I'm a changed woman. I have found to love the one thing I was never a fan of (for me). By being open to it, I have made some great new friends and I feel like this people have my back...no matter how big or small it is. They are all amazing people who are doing exactly what I am....trying to get healthy and lose weight....and if in the process I meet some great new people....well, that's just a wonderful bonus and that's one dish I'll go back for seconds for every time!!!!
