Gastricsleeve4me

Great job! I'd done it in a mini-loaf pan a while back and it was sooo tasty...even for those who aren't on a limited diet! You can read more about my mini-loaf pan experience on my blog at http://gastricsleeve4me.blogspot.com/2012/06/baked-ricotta.html

Got approved for STD today! Had to use one week of my "paid time off" (at my work they bundle sick time and vacation). Been saving all my receipts to use for FSA...though I don't think I set aside much this year. Also got my therapist and nutritionists partially reimbursed thru insurance in the status, so that's great. Taking everything I can get.
Next, I'm going to take a total shot in the dark and submit my $8000 receipt for dr aceves to united healthcare. I can't imagine it will work, but can't hurt to do some paperwork and try!

At 11 years old I was living with my mother and step father. My father was no where to be found. My step dad worked nights from about 3pm to midnight, leaving my mom with their 4 year old and a newborn. My mother, diagnosed only a few years ago, is bipolar. Two young children and a husband away in the evenings was too much for her to bear. But, at 11, after spending much of my time caring for their first child, I was well equipped. There were diapers to be changed, and dinners to be made, and someone to watch the kids while my mother needed "alone time", pursued a variety of different careers to keep her occupied and out of the house, or disappeared for days on end when life was too overwhelming. At that age, "normal" is whatever your life is. So, I did what I believed I was supposed to. But there was not much time to be a kid. No one to scream at to when my brother stuffed yet another box of crayons in the VCR or my sister decided to "puffy paint" the bathroom towels. No one to cry to when I was home taking care of two kids when everyone else was playing sports or meeting boys. So I ate. I used food to comfort me for the adult stressors I was incapable of handling at such a young age (and had been primed for over years before). Who do you cry to when your step dad says he needs to pick up your mom at the suicide clinic so make sure the kids get to bed on time? I became an expert at being capable. At being resilient. At relying on no one. But food. Food was my best friend and a constant. For years later during high school my parents would "scold" me for sitting on the couch to catch an hour of tv after working one of my two jobs (by 15), presumably because they noticed my growing waistline and assumed it to be lack of exercise (as a varsity gymnast holding down two jobs and "babysitting" every day you'd think they would have figured out it wasn't my ability to commit to hard work or the result of laziness). I left home at 17 and, by now the consummate overachiever, graduated with my bachelors at 20 and began a career I'm continuing 12 years later, becoming the youngest manger in my region, then the most quickly promoted sr manager, and so on. But always heavy. Always. The stress of two young kids was replaced by stress at work, the need to succeed, anger/grief/etc at my parents when I realized later how different my childhood was...but I never learned how to cope with thes emotions. Being dumped 5 weeks before your wedding, losing a best friend to sudden death at 28, funerals for 16 yr old cousins, and uncles who died too early, friends and family with brain cancer. I was ill-equipped to do anything but make it to therapy, and eat. So, at 32, I needed a catalyst. A push. A drastic change. Enter the sleeve. At nine weeks out my journey is an emotional one. One that I'm conquering. Slowly. But surely. With the guidance of a therpist who specializes in food and has picked up where other therapists began (but without the weight connection). It's not easy, and it's not about Protein or Water intake. It's about becoming more emotionally mature. And I'm committed. And I'm nothing if not resilient.
Jo - sleeved 5/21/12
Everyone has a story and, I'm curious, what's yours?

At 11 years old I was living with my mother and step father. My father was no where to be found. My step dad worked nights from about 3pm to midnight, leaving my mom with their 4 year old and a newborn. My mother, diagnosed only a few years ago, is bipolar. Two young children and a husband away in the evenings was too much for her to bear. But, at 11, after spending much of my time caring for their first child, I was well equipped. There were diapers to be changed, and dinners to be made, and someone to watch the kids while my mother needed "alone time", pursued a variety of different careers to keep her occupied and out of the house, or disappeared for days on end when life was too overwhelming. At that age, "normal" is whatever your life is. So, I did what I believed I was supposed to. But there was not much time to be a kid. No one to scream at to when my brother stuffed yet another box of crayons in the VCR or my sister decided to "puffy paint" the bathroom towels. No one to cry to when I was home taking care of two kids when everyone else was playing sports or meeting boys. So I ate. I used food to comfort me for the adult stressors I was incapable of handling at such a young age (and had been primed for over years before). Who do you cry to when your step dad says he needs to pick up your mom at the suicide clinic so make sure the kids get to bed on time? I became an expert at being capable. At being resilient. At relying on no one. But food. Food was my best friend and a constant. For years later during high school my parents would "scold" me for sitting on the couch to catch an hour of tv after working one of my two jobs (by 15), presumably because they noticed my growing waistline and assumed it to be lack of exercise (as a varsity gymnast holding down two jobs and "babysitting" every day you'd think they would have figured out it wasn't my ability to commit to hard work or the result of laziness). I left home at 17 and, by now the consummate overachiever, graduated with my bachelors at 20 and began a career I'm continuing 12 years later, becoming the youngest manger in my region, then the most quickly promoted sr manager, and so on. But always heavy. Always. The stress of two young kids was replaced by stress at work, the need to succeed, anger/grief/etc at my parents when I realized later how different my childhood was...but I never learned how to cope with thes emotions. Being dumped 5 weeks before your wedding, losing a best friend to sudden death at 28, funerals for 16 yr old cousins, and uncles who died too early, friends and family with brain cancer. I was ill-equipped to do anything but make it to therapy, and eat. So, at 32, I needed a catalyst. A push. A drastic change. Enter the sleeve. At nine weeks out my journey is an emotional one. One that I'm conquering. Slowly. But surely. With the guidance of a therpist who specializes in food and has picked up where other therapists began (but without the weight connection). It's not easy, and it's not about Protein or Water intake. It's about becoming more emotionally mature. And I'm committed. And I'm nothing if not resilient.
Jo - sleeved 5/21/12
Everyone has a story and, I'm curious, what's yours?

At 11 years old I was living with my mother and step father. My father was no where to be found. My step dad worked nights from about 3pm to midnight, leaving my mom with their 4 year old and a newborn. My mother, diagnosed only a few years ago, is bipolar. Two young children and a husband away in the evenings was too much for her to bear. But, at 11, after spending much of my time caring for their first child, I was well equipped. There were diapers to be changed, and dinners to be made, and someone to watch the kids while my mother needed "alone time", pursued a variety of different careers to keep her occupied and out of the house, or disappeared for days on end when life was too overwhelming. At that age, "normal" is whatever your life is. So, I did what I believed I was supposed to. But there was not much time to be a kid. No one to scream at to when my brother stuffed yet another box of crayons in the VCR or my sister decided to "puffy paint" the bathroom towels. No one to cry to when I was home taking care of two kids when everyone else was playing sports or meeting boys. So I ate. I used food to comfort me for the adult stressors I was incapable of handling at such a young age (and had been primed for over years before). Who do you cry to when your step dad says he needs to pick up your mom at the suicide clinic so make sure the kids get to bed on time? I became an expert at being capable. At being resilient. At relying on no one. But food. Food was my best friend and a constant. For years later during high school my parents would "scold" me for sitting on the couch to catch an hour of tv after working one of my two jobs (by 15), presumably because they noticed my growing waistline and assumed it to be lack of exercise (as a varsity gymnast holding down two jobs and "babysitting" every day you'd think they would have figured out it wasn't my ability to commit to hard work or the result of laziness). I left home at 17 and, by now the consummate overachiever, graduated with my bachelors at 20 and began a career I'm continuing 12 years later, becoming the youngest manger in my region, then the most quickly promoted sr manager, and so on. But always heavy. Always. The stress of two young kids was replaced by stress at work, the need to succeed, anger/grief/etc at my parents when I realized later how different my childhood was...but I never learned how to cope with thes emotions. Being dumped 5 weeks before your wedding, losing a best friend to sudden death at 28, funerals for 16 yr old cousins, and uncles who died too early, friends and family with brain cancer. I was ill-equipped to do anything but make it to therapy, and eat. So, at 32, I needed a catalyst. A push. A drastic change. Enter the sleeve. At nine weeks out my journey is an emotional one. One that I'm conquering. Slowly. But surely. With the guidance of a therpist who specializes in food and has picked up where other therapists began (but without the weight connection). It's not easy, and it's not about Protein or Water intake. It's about becoming more emotionally mature. And I'm committed. And I'm nothing if not resilient.
Jo - sleeved 5/21/12
Everyone has a story and, I'm curious, what's yours?

At 11 years old I was living with my mother and step father. My father was no where to be found. My step dad worked nights from about 3pm to midnight, leaving my mom with their 4 year old and a newborn. My mother, diagnosed only a few years ago, is bipolar. Two young children and a husband away in the evenings was too much for her to bear. But, at 11, after spending much of my time caring for their first child, I was well equipped. There were diapers to be changed, and dinners to be made, and someone to watch the kids while my mother needed "alone time", pursued a variety of different careers to keep her occupied and out of the house, or disappeared for days on end when life was too overwhelming. At that age, "normal" is whatever your life is. So, I did what I believed I was supposed to. But there was not much time to be a kid. No one to scream at to when my brother stuffed yet another box of crayons in the VCR or my sister decided to "puffy paint" the bathroom towels. No one to cry to when I was home taking care of two kids when everyone else was playing sports or meeting boys. So I ate. I used food to comfort me for the adult stressors I was incapable of handling at such a young age (and had been primed for over years before). Who do you cry to when your step dad says he needs to pick up your mom at the suicide clinic so make sure the kids get to bed on time? I became an expert at being capable. At being resilient. At relying on no one. But food. Food was my best friend and a constant. For years later during high school my parents would "scold" me for sitting on the couch to catch an hour of tv after working one of my two jobs (by 15), presumably because they noticed my growing waistline and assumed it to be lack of exercise (as a varsity gymnast holding down two jobs and "babysitting" every day you'd think they would have figured out it wasn't my ability to commit to hard work or the result of laziness). I left home at 17 and, by now the consummate overachiever, graduated with my bachelors at 20 and began a career I'm continuing 12 years later, becoming the youngest manger in my region, then the most quickly promoted sr manager, and so on. But always heavy. Always. The stress of two young kids was replaced by stress at work, the need to succeed, anger/grief/etc at my parents when I realized later how different my childhood was...but I never learned how to cope with thes emotions. Being dumped 5 weeks before your wedding, losing a best friend to sudden death at 28, funerals for 16 yr old cousins, and uncles who died too early, friends and family with brain cancer. I was ill-equipped to do anything but make it to therapy, and eat. So, at 32, I needed a catalyst. A push. A drastic change. Enter the sleeve. At nine weeks out my journey is an emotional one. One that I'm conquering. Slowly. But surely. With the guidance of a therpist who specializes in food and has picked up where other therapists began (but without the weight connection). It's not easy, and it's not about Protein or Water intake. It's about becoming more emotionally mature. And I'm committed. And I'm nothing if not resilient.
Jo - sleeved 5/21/12
Everyone has a story and, I'm curious, what's yours?

Thanks, iggychic...love the post. And a great reminder/reiteration for everyone out there that a tough past that led to weight loss doesn't necessarily translate into "I'm unhappy".
I like to think I lead a happy and fulfilling life, and consider myself incredibly well-adjusted...but that doesn't mean that things in my past don't affect the way I view life, and the fact that I use food as a coping skill when I experience "normal" stress days, bored days, sad days, lonely days, etc. It wasn't until I was able to identify why was using food in a different way than others that I figured out that, for me, my weight loss journey was going to be less about counting calories (though that's an integral part) and more about finding other outlets for dealing with the normal ups and downs of life. While I definitely consider myself happy, that has brought up some measure of sadness and grief over stuff in my past - but that doesn't mean I spend my days "sad" or "grief-stricken".
Not sure why I felt the need to post that...perhaps a discussion with my therapist lol <she says tongue-in-cheek>

At 11 years old I was living with my mother and step father. My father was no where to be found. My step dad worked nights from about 3pm to midnight, leaving my mom with their 4 year old and a newborn. My mother, diagnosed only a few years ago, is bipolar. Two young children and a husband away in the evenings was too much for her to bear. But, at 11, after spending much of my time caring for their first child, I was well equipped. There were diapers to be changed, and dinners to be made, and someone to watch the kids while my mother needed "alone time", pursued a variety of different careers to keep her occupied and out of the house, or disappeared for days on end when life was too overwhelming. At that age, "normal" is whatever your life is. So, I did what I believed I was supposed to. But there was not much time to be a kid. No one to scream at to when my brother stuffed yet another box of crayons in the VCR or my sister decided to "puffy paint" the bathroom towels. No one to cry to when I was home taking care of two kids when everyone else was playing sports or meeting boys. So I ate. I used food to comfort me for the adult stressors I was incapable of handling at such a young age (and had been primed for over years before). Who do you cry to when your step dad says he needs to pick up your mom at the suicide clinic so make sure the kids get to bed on time? I became an expert at being capable. At being resilient. At relying on no one. But food. Food was my best friend and a constant. For years later during high school my parents would "scold" me for sitting on the couch to catch an hour of tv after working one of my two jobs (by 15), presumably because they noticed my growing waistline and assumed it to be lack of exercise (as a varsity gymnast holding down two jobs and "babysitting" every day you'd think they would have figured out it wasn't my ability to commit to hard work or the result of laziness). I left home at 17 and, by now the consummate overachiever, graduated with my bachelors at 20 and began a career I'm continuing 12 years later, becoming the youngest manger in my region, then the most quickly promoted sr manager, and so on. But always heavy. Always. The stress of two young kids was replaced by stress at work, the need to succeed, anger/grief/etc at my parents when I realized later how different my childhood was...but I never learned how to cope with thes emotions. Being dumped 5 weeks before your wedding, losing a best friend to sudden death at 28, funerals for 16 yr old cousins, and uncles who died too early, friends and family with brain cancer. I was ill-equipped to do anything but make it to therapy, and eat. So, at 32, I needed a catalyst. A push. A drastic change. Enter the sleeve. At nine weeks out my journey is an emotional one. One that I'm conquering. Slowly. But surely. With the guidance of a therpist who specializes in food and has picked up where other therapists began (but without the weight connection). It's not easy, and it's not about Protein or Water intake. It's about becoming more emotionally mature. And I'm committed. And I'm nothing if not resilient.
Jo - sleeved 5/21/12
Everyone has a story and, I'm curious, what's yours?

Here's a link to the soft food stage page on my blog. There's also one for solid food when you get there!
http://gastricsleeve4me.blogspot.com/p/soft-food-stage.html

I'd posted previously about my love of flatout bread. Last night I cut one in half and made buffalo chicken on one half (wing sauce, canned chicken, cheddar cheese, sprinkling of ranch dressing packet) and sausage/pepp on the other (prego pre made pizza sauce, leftover sausage, turkey pepperoni, and four cheese pizza blend). At 8 weeks I could only eat 1/6 of a flatout...now I can do about a quarter, but am stuffed (e.g., what you see in pic is four meals)

I'd posted previously about my love of flatout bread. Last night I cut one in half and made buffalo chicken on one half (wing sauce, canned chicken, cheddar cheese, sprinkling of ranch dressing packet) and sausage/pepp on the other (prego pre made pizza sauce, leftover sausage, turkey pepperoni, and four cheese pizza blend). At 8 weeks I could only eat 1/6 of a flatout...now I can do about a quarter, but am stuffed (e.g., what you see in pic is four meals)

I'd posted previously about my love of flatout bread. Last night I cut one in half and made buffalo chicken on one half (wing sauce, canned chicken, cheddar cheese, sprinkling of ranch dressing packet) and sausage/pepp on the other (prego pre made pizza sauce, leftover sausage, turkey pepperoni, and four cheese pizza blend). At 8 weeks I could only eat 1/6 of a flatout...now I can do about a quarter, but am stuffed (e.g., what you see in pic is four meals)

I just want to say I made this tonight for me and my hubby and both really enjoyed it. imade my half with the four cheese Pasta Sauce and turkey peperoni and his with just the sauce and cheese and can you say this fixed my pizza cravings lol

I'd posted about the flatout bread pizza I'd made a few days ago. I had leftover cheese, pepperoni, and pizza sauce so decided to make pizza bites. Recipe and nutritional info on my blog at http://gastricsleeve4me.blogspot.com/2012/08/pizza-bites.html. Yum!

I'd posted previously about my love of flatout bread. Last night I cut one in half and made buffalo chicken on one half (wing sauce, canned chicken, cheddar cheese, sprinkling of ranch dressing packet) and sausage/pepp on the other (prego pre made pizza sauce, leftover sausage, turkey pepperoni, and four cheese pizza blend). At 8 weeks I could only eat 1/6 of a flatout...now I can do about a quarter, but am stuffed (e.g., what you see in pic is four meals)

You might try googling "5 day pouch test" as a place to start to get back on track

Another Aceves fan here! Sleeved 5/21. Down 55 lbs in 3.5 mos from surgery weight of 250 (5'7"). Went to Mexicali by myself and couldn't have been a better experience!

I've started a page on my blog that consolidates all my fave recipes. Maybe worth a skim to see if anything catches your eye? Almost all of the recipes have pics and nutritional info if you're curious. http://gastricsleeve4me.blogspot.com/p/solid-food-stage.html

Another Aceves fan here! Sleeved 5/21. Down 55 lbs in 3.5 mos from surgery weight of 250 (5'7"). Went to Mexicali by myself and couldn't have been a better experience!

Another Aceves fan here! Sleeved 5/21. Down 55 lbs in 3.5 mos from surgery weight of 250 (5'7"). Went to Mexicali by myself and couldn't have been a better experience!