ravendays

So I have the lapband and my mom has the sleeve. I received my band roughly a month before she had her sleeve surgery. Considering the circumstaces we have both acheived splinded results. However, I am envious of how far she has come in her journey. She has gone from wearing a size 22-24W to a skinny size 8. I have gone from a size 20-22W to a size 12. Keep in mind that this is roughly 8 months post-op. I just wish I could have lost weight as quickly as she has. I have lost 70 pounds at this point and still have about 60 pounds to go until I hit my goal. I'm trying my best to be happy for her and I always celebrate her victories with her. I'm so proud of her, it's just that I just wish it was me...
 
Although I am happy for myself too. I've never been this small in my entire life. I've always been a bit of a butterball. I'm starting to realize that the "skinny life" is so much different from my old life. It's really weird. I'm now cold ALL THE TIME!!! Back in the day I was often know to go outside in just jeans and a t-shirt (in the snow, mind you) and just comfortably chill. Now I have to wear three shirts, a sweater, gloves, a scarf, and a hat... and I'm STILL cold. My bones aren't as well cushened as before, which is making it uncomfortable to sleep. My knees poke at eachother if I try sleeping on my side and my elbow keeps poking me in the ribs. Who knew being 70 lbs lighter could be so uncomfortable. I also find that I'm not as clumsy as I used to be. I don't bang into door entries anymore. I also don't trip over my own feet as often. My shoe size has also shrunk quite a bit. I used to wear a size 10W shoe now I'm at an 8 1/2. Weird...
 
People treat me differently too.
 
I don't know what it is about being fat, but I'm used to people avoiding me. If I was to sit in an empty auditorium back when I weight 262 lbs no one would sit next to me. In fact the entire auditorium would fill up and the only seats that would be empty would be the ones right next to me. You would think that I smelled bad or had some horrible contagious disease. Now however things are different. People talk to me and they don't even know me. Guys shamelessly hit on me in front of my fiance. Hell, I'm just shocked that guys are actually hitting on me!
 
Unlike some people, I am very open about my surgery. If anyone asks, I will honestly tell them how I lost weight. It's even all over my facebook page. I'm not embarressed and I'm not ashamed. This is the first time I've actually succeeded at weight-loss. I'm very proud of myself. I have not finished my journey, but I have accomplished many goals that I never have before. This is the first time I've been below 200 lbs since I was in Jr. High. I never thought I would be able to say that. My next goal is to be able to say I've lost 100 lbs and not be lying.
 
Until next time...
 
Angrybaby signing out.

So Today is post op day 6. Almost a week into being band. I am getting the hang of things but I have not been counting my calories but I know I am going no where near the recommended amounts with what I am eating. I know I need to get better at that since when I get back on solids I will have to be vigilant on this. So anyway I am feeling okay have had a few bouts of nausea but phenergan and rest has made it better. I am tolerating liquids and most everything else on my diet. I am having a lot of trouble getting in the recommended amounts of protein and water however as I have always struggled with. I have tried several different brands of protein powder and have a bad reaction to the slightest bit. I have never been lactose intolerant so I did some research and it says that I may be allergic to soy and whey. I have tried powders for them both. My incisions are quite smaller then I expected and I do have a lot of bruising and swelling at my port site. As far as pain it is almost gone unless I do too much which is hard for me to just sit and not do house work. I have not felt hungry but once on day three and have to make myself eat. I did have my first episode of hiccups and man that did not feel good. I am still struggling with energy level so I have started taking b12 and going to try to move around a lot more today and get back in my pre surgery habits of walking I think I have rested long enough. Tomorrow I get to move to a pureed diet so I will have to start trying some new things. Nervous about advancing but I have tolerated everything fine. My follow up appointment is not until feb 14th hopefully I will have developed some good habits by then and get ready to go back to work at the end of feb. I find it still hard to watch my husband eat really good food or even something that I would not even want but now I do while I am sitting here sipping on soup but what do I do? He has to eat too. It is very easy in these first few days to sit here and get depressed I have found. But I constantly remind myself that I am doing this for a great change. Hopefully in the days to come when I get back to my old routine of doing things I will feel better. It is just hard to focus on this which I need to be right now deal with life worry about bills tend to everything else that you have to in life. Seems I am living from one meal to the next not living. But like I said I am going to try to start incorporating everyday life and find a balance with my band. I am determined to succeed at this. xoxoxo Rach

I don't know a soul on this board. After all...I'm new here. Eleven days ago...I got banded. I put a couple of years into my decision...and even at the last moment...right before my doctor's office was seeking insurance approval...although I THOUGHT I knew what I was doing...I was still waffling on the procedure that I wanted him to perform. Banding or gastric sleeve? All of the super invasive stuff sounded so scary...but a little bit easier. With a deep breath and an emotional eenie meenie minie mo...the band it was!
 
Why did I choose the band? There were a couple of reasons banding seemed so much better than the others. First of all...there was no re-routing of organs or crazy craziness. The band...is removable...fixable...long term if I want it to be...and it seemed to be the "civil" of all the procedures. So...she put the paperwork in...and within days I was approved based on a hard life of eating like there's no tomorrow to "drown my sorrows" and the high blood pressure and sleep apnea that had been the product of my lifelong romance with food.
 
After I woke up from the procedure...the first thing that really hit me was..."Oh God...this thing ain't comin' out!"
 
Yeah.
 
Suddenly...I had this sort of rush of fear and self-loathing. That was the moment that every diet I have ever been on flashed before my eyes. Just recently the fad diet around our office has been the HCG Hormone thing. Whatever. A lot of people lost weight...but in the back of my mind...I kept thinking about the long term consequences of injecting hormones for weight loss. They had tried to get me to jump on the bandwagon...but I just kept getting the vision of me sprouting a third nipple or growing a tail or some other freakish genetic possibility...that it helped me remain strong enough to skip the hype and let them do their own thing.
 
Sure enough...as with every office diet fad...wouldn't ya' know...they all lost weight?! Another lady in our office had joined the Jenny Craig thing around the same time...she dropped some weight and then it appeared to creep back slowly.
 
This same group had gone on a all protein shake diet a couple of years ago. I did that. Yep. I was there. I lived on protein shakes and restricted food intake for 5 months. It was all hearts and stars...I dropped 30-40 pounds...and ended up in the hospital ER with dehyrdration and some sort of stomach bug. Why? Because I was so damn rundown and tired from the lack of anything other than that in my system...save for limited meat and veggies...that it kicked my butt.
 
I started drinking orange juice...and it was over. Yep. I just couldn't bring myself to starve anymore. I was done with it. Tired. Disgusted. Scared. My blood pressure was STILL kind of high and my snoring was embarrassing. My weight crept back up and THEN some. Wow.
 
My decision to get banded was so hard...mainly because I love food. There aren't that many things that have brought me as much pleasure as good food. It's just the truth. I knew that I needed some sort of control device. And there you have it. Just like everyone else that's had to go through the insurance approval process...my time was spent at seminars, doctor's appointments...yuck. What a drag. Seriously...I didn't even KNOW my health had become so lame until this process began. And we won't EVEN go into the pre IVC filter stress. OMG.
 
So there I was...awake from surgery...they handed me a tiny cup of water and I drank every drop like a good girl...and within a couple of hours I was out of there.
 
Broth, Jello, water....broth...water...jello. You know exactly what it's like. It wasn't as annoying until a couple of days later when I had to be admitted to the hospital for dehydration and a possible infection. Turned out after about 546 units of fluid...1435 needles stuck into me...etc etc...that there had just been too much fluid in my band when it was placed and after they'd removed some of that and made me suffer through what I like to think of as the most painful 36 hours of my hospitalized life...I threatened the male nurse who seemed to not care that my veins were so overworked from all the fluids that they were pushing, that the meds felt like battery acid in my veins...that he either got in touch with my doctor and got me the hell outta there...or I was gonna go total Commando status and leave on my own accord.
 
I s'pose my actions were persuasive. My doctor discharged me within a couple of hours.
 
That's been a little over a week ago.
 
Since the banding...I've lost 20 pounds for a total of 24.8 pounds lost including a very brief pre-diet. So basically...today is the 21st...and my weight has dropped since January 5th.
 
This has NOT been easy. It has NOT been a walk in the park. Yes...I have been hungry. Yes...it was pretty tough before they removed the extra fluid. Over the first couple of days I was only able to get in about 3-4 cups of fluid. And I am SOOOO missing food.
 
Two nights ago...I drove to Wendy's...bought a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger...and took two bites...chewed like crazy...and then...spit it out. Of course. There's no place it can go without making me sick. OMG it was so...good...and greasy...and cheesy and bacony...and I had a brief moment of regret...that I spit out with that two bites of food.
 
I know it's gross. But really...at this point...I don't care.
 
The people at work have started to notice the weight coming off of me...and I love how they tell me about their diets. (Not really) I have been where they are and none of that stuff ever worked successfully for me. We have one lady that has dropped 60 pounds and looks fantastic. I think I hate her a little bit. (Not really...but in the realm of weight loss...she is like an arch nemesis for the time being. Damn her and her ability to keep eating normally.)
 
I can tell you a dozen ways to drop weight. I can tell you what to eat...what not to eat...how to prepare the food...etc etc. It does NOT work for me for whatever reason.
 
I have rinsed my ground beef after browning it since 1988. Mayo? Haven't touched it in forever. So...with all that said...if watching this and watching that had been right for me...it would've worked a long time ago. Am I justifying why I chose to remove steak from my life forever? Yes. Ha!
 
I noticed that I sat in front of Food Network the other night...like agonizing over an old ex. There it was...looking all good...and there I was on my couch...wearing my pajamas...Durabond glue stuck on my incisions...my belly gnawing itself...a delicious bottle of...water...in my hand. It was like watching your ex-husband win the lottery.
 
I went to bed feeling a bit defeated. My clothes still fit...they're looser now...and I wonder how I managed to shove so much butt into such a little bit of fabric...and after telling myself that if I just get to sleep...that tomorrow...when I wake up...there's another chance to wake up to a scale that reads a slightly smaller number than the day before.
 
The weight loss so far has been all that's really kept me sane. And Ativan...but that's another story. : )
 
 
 
 

Well here goes...My first entry...Im about a week away from my banding and I am jumping out of my skin...Mostly excited...have been reading all the different experiences on the forums and blogs..My sister had a stomach bypass 7 years ago.She lost a huge amount of weight but its starting to creep back in.I remember her saying that she never took advantage of the support systems that are available-Webinars-forums such as this. I love her so much and I kept telling her not to disregard the support...Still proud oh her anyway...I am making it a point to see a therapist on a bi-weekly basis in order to start digging into the reasons why I have this unhealthy relationship with food. I also think that blogging will help me work through the tough days and allow me to celebrate the good days.. I also have a loving and wonderful wife and 2 terrific daughters as well as my sister and some very good friends that will also be there for me for support. I also know that at the end of the day..It is me who has to do the heavy lifting (no pun intended) in order to truely change my life...So jump in and strap on your seatbelts as I go for the ride of my life...
 
Peace..

I guess I can begin with the basics. After all, I have no idea who will be reading this blog, or if anyone will even notice. I think this is more a place to get the thoughts out of my head, where they can fester and be poisonous. And you never know, I may even amuse someone.
 
I'm Carlene, 41 years old, married, no kids. I live in Denver and currently work in residential property management. I've been fat all my life. I have photos of my 2 year old rosy, chubby self on the back of an evil-looking pony, taken somewhere back on the grandparents farm. Sure, I was cute then. All blonde hair and green eyes, how adorable. Blech.
 
My mom was fat as a kid. When she hit her junior year of high school, she morphed over a summer into this gorgeous, slim, blonde bombshell that every guy suddenly lusted after. Pooh on all those untested young men - she chose my father, after dating his brother and finding my dad 10 years older, gorgeous with jet black hair, snapping brown eyes, and already doing the thing she wished for most - getting the hell out of Kentucky. They married, settled in Southern California, and began the American Dream.
 
But that fat gene was lurking, and it passed to us - myself and 2 younger sisters. Horrors.
 
My mom dieted all her life. Yo-yo should have been her middle name. The cabbage diet, the egg diet, the fish diet - you name it, she did it. And at around 13, I started getting dragged into it as well. My mom was a hairdresser, which was extremely profitable and glamorous to her backwards relations in Kentucky, and you paid the price with image, you see. Hairdressers had to look the part, be thin, perfect makeup, gorgeous hair, natch...or who would come to be made pretty by them? How often do you see a fat hairdresser? Not too often.
 
I think my mom was also tramatized by her own experiences as a fat child and tween, and she didn't want me to go through it. I wish I hadn't. But gawd, one of the worst memories I have are of my mother promising me as many pairs of Jordache as I wanted if I could just fit into them. I couldn't, and by 13 I couldn't even fit into her clothes. So on the diets I went. I think I managed to get enough weight off to get a pair of Jordache at one point, but within weeks had burst out of them again.
 
I have two sisters, much younger than I am. I think this weight issue must be harder for my middle sister, Jayne - she was really skinny (took after Dad) up until she hit junior high, and then gained weight. Lacy, the youngest, was always chubby like I was. I imagine it was hell for her that she had a sister only 2 years older that was tanned, skinny and gorgeous. By then I was out of the house and living with my husband. Both of my sisters have a weight problem, but I'm the worst.
 
It was during a screaming match during a very hard time in my life, when I had left my husband of 7 years and moved back home while trying to find a job that a lot of baggage came out. I was 27, still overweight, and thought I'd get a job at a local salon as a receptionist until I went back to school or figured out what to do with myself as a single woman. In front of my Dad, who was sitting and doing his best to studiously ignore the entire conversation by watching TV, my mom told me I'd never find anyone to hire me because I didn't project the image a salon needed, being so overweight.
 
I snapped.
 
I told her that I was sick and tired of hearing about my weight. That is was her fault I was overweight, by stressing me out since I was a child with yo-yo dieting and that there were people out there that liked me just fine. I'd managed to find a husband, have a good job, and wasn't shunned like a leper. I believe that my face was red, the veins were standing out in my neck and forehead, and I was screaming this at the top of my lungs. Jayne and Lacy were standing there, mouths dropped open, my dad cringed, and then my mom said something that just about imploded my entire family.
 
My mom screamed back at me that she had always had to struggle with her weight, and she dieted all her life because my dad told her when they got married that if she ever got fat he'd divorce her.
 
Oh boy. Mom burst into tears, collapsed on the sofa, and my dad looked thunderstruck. "I can't believe you have held that in all these years," he says. "I was young and didn't realize you took that so seriously, I would never..." I was frozen at the bottom of the stairs, Jayne had rushed to my mom and Lacy literally sat down where she stood. It was beyond momentous.
 
So from that moment on, I swore to myself I would never diet again. Never-never-never-ever again. If people didn't like me for me, then screw em. If I was fat, so be it. I was going to be happy, and love myself no matter what.
 
But of course, I didn't. I am not happy. I don't love myself like I should. It's been 14 years since that scene went down, and my mother died from lung cancer 6 years ago. God, I miss her. Don't get the idea that I hated my mom - she was fantastic, and my best friend, and things changed after that screaming match. She accepted me for me, and always gave me great advice and was there through thick and thin, always my champion. Watching her die from that horrible disease was the worst thing I have ever been through in my life, and I still talk to her in my head. I still cry for her too.
 
About 10 years ago I found the Atkins diet and thought it was the answer to my prayers. I lost 60 lbs, went to a convention feeling great and full of confidence and sass, and met my husband. Within 18 months I had gained it all back and more, but still had my husband.
 
I've had to compensate for my weight. I've become funny, smart, respected (for the most part) by my employees and my supervisors, I have good common sense and I'm good at what I do. I've been successful at work and for the most part have been happy with what I've accomplished.
 
Except the weight. It keeps getting worse, and I now realize that I have issues. The biggest issue I have is a skewed body image of myself. It's like those bulimic people who look in a mirror and think they are fat, when they are a walking skeleton - mine is the opposite. I think I developed it when my mom was putting me on diet after diet - I can look in the mirror and I don't see anything wrong. Somehow I have spent years ignoring what I see and telling myself I look great. Sure, I keep going up in sizes. Yeah, the upper arms are starting to look like half hams, and the belly actually hangs over to the point that there's a permanent crease underneath there. My ankles swell when I stand or sit for too long of a time, or fly in an airplane. But I was still strong, I was active, I could walk through a farmer's market and not pass out, or go to a concert and boogie all night.
 
But age is now starting to creep in. I broke two bones in my right ankle four years ago and a year after that, broke all the cartilage in my right knee when I twisted it coming down the stairs. Neither has come back full force, and now they ache with all the weight on them. My face has no definition anymore, and recent photos horrified me - I have chins. As in multiple, not looking down or anything, but looking straight ahead. I don't let anyone take photos of me, because then it blows my lovely skewed self image and I see how large I am, especially when standing next to a normal sized person.
 
And I hear my mom in my head, urging me to do something, anything, just do it before I die young like she did (at age 56) and I haven't even really lived yet.
 
Two years ago I was with a group of my co-workers and we went on a tour of some apartment communities in Philadelphia and Harlem. We flew from Denver to Philly, stayed in a hotel, had to walk miles and miles in both cities. I would come back to the hotel at night and literally cry with the pain of my legs and feet. When you are supporting 350 lbs on your feet, they just can't take this much abuse. The cramps at night would keep me awake, pain sizzling in my calves and feet like someone was holding sparklers to the skin. That was it - that was when I hit rock bottom.
 
Halfway through the trip, I called my husband and just sobbed. I told him it didn't matter what it took, if I had to borrow, beg or steal, I had to have surgery and had to get my weight down. I hated getting on an airplane and asking for the seatbelt extender, and having the seat arms dig into my thighs, cutting off circulation until I could barely walk when the flight was over. I hated the way I was being looked at by my co-workers when I would fall behind, huffing and puffing, legs screaming, praying to myself that it would all end soon. I couldn't continue this way, it was time to act.
 
Insurance won't cover my surgery. I have to pay for it out of pocket. It's taken me two years to save up, but I finally have my date - April 5, 2011. I've just purchased a weight set, a treadmill, and arranged for time off of work. It's finally going to happen....and I can see my mom, clapping her hands, cheering me on, smiling at me.
 
 

Surgery was Tuesday. I got home from hospital Wednesday. By Friday I was drove nutty.
My lady friends MamaG and Bestie were available Friday night.
MamaG was home alone with hubby away at work and Bestie had gone over to the GTeam Headquarters to help get the 2 babes to bed so that the three of us gals could have a movie night. It sounded wonderful!
This was the first time I had a chance to recount the whole surgery experience with my ladies and let me tell you, NO conversation EVER has ANY holds barred! We didnt even get to the movie. The ladies made me laugh way too much and way too hard but it was great to be out and catching up and feeling normal!
I shared all the gritty details of my surgery, my worries about the surgery, thier worries about it and EVERYTHING else.
I got home at MIDNIGHT and snuggled in to bed, sore but in fantastic spirits. Thank Goodness for friends!
 
Today was my Grandfather's 90th Birthday party. We drove the 2 hours each way to my hometown to be there. There was about 90 people present including all of my Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Siblings, Nieces and Nephews. Without ANY intention, I fessed up to most of the very important people in my life. I couldn't stay all day, it was a little too much for me 4 days after surgery but I did my best to soak up every minute with them all. I felt badly for not being able to stay the whole day and it just came out, naturally.
 
I had been so nervous about telling anyone really except for the 5 most important people in my life. I was determined not to tell them and open myself up to judgement and feedback of anyone. EVERY response was positive. Everyone had noticed how much hard work I had done in the last year to get to where I was before surgery and EVERYONE congratulated me on my past success and my future success. I left feeling tired, but so much stronger without the weight of keeping something so huge in my life from these people who were such a huge part of my life!
 
All in all, a great day 4 and 5. I'm still experiencing gas pains in my shoulders, my incisions are tender from all of the ghing over the last few days and I am having a super hard time getting my protein quota in daily BUT it will only get better!
 
Take care all! Celebrate all successes BIG AND SMALL!