DeLarla

Oh my GOD, Michelle, did you really dig this up from the grave? I just looked at the picture, and my boobs look HUGE. It is apparent from this picture that all of the 60 pounds I lost were from the top half, that's for sure! Can't anyone with a kind heart edit this picture so just the wound shows? I should hide.

You people are cracking me up! Jenn, I have more experience with ports than anybody I know, and I don't even have one! All our bodies are different. Some people aren't bothered by the port, while it bugs the heck out of other people. But as you lose weight, the port will probably readjust itself. Is your port hot, red, inflamed, itchy? Does it appear infected? If it is infected, you'll need to see a doctor - quick. But if it's not infected, you may just want to make an appointment to discuss it with your doctor. They do "port revisions" all the time. If it bugs you that bad, they can easily move it somewhere else. I wonder if we got extra tubing since we are so tall... my tube actually came right out of my body.

Paula, where are you? It's 10:00 a.m. and I finished my daily water. But my challenge was to do twice my water, so I'm halfway there. How you doing?

What does everybody pay for a fill? My best friend is an RN in Texas currently fininishing her MBA. She's going to be a professor but she's also learning about the band. She might decide to do fills in Texas one day. I told her I'd find out what everyone pays. In Tijuana you can get a fill under fluoro for $50 to $100. In Vegas, one doc charges $100 for the initial consult, $300 for each fill, plus several hundred to the hospital for the use of a fluoro machine. Where do you go, and what do you pay?

Jonathan, you'll be happy with your choice. But please tell me, which doctor in Mexico is only charging $6500? That's the lowest I've ever seen.

Ro, my port incision became infected right after the initial surgery. So I had a 2nd operation to remove the port. I still have the tube, so I assume they capped it off? I'll need a 3rd operation to put a new port in, but only after the incision heals. It's been open ALL MY LIFE but is finally trying to heal. There's a post showing gross pics of my port problems (so we don't have to hijack this thead.) Thanks for asking!

I'm up 3 solid pounds, and tomorrow I have to write it under my signature. Tomorrow is my official monthy weigh-in. I will have to move out of Denialville in the morning. BUT... today I look so cute cuz I've been saving this beautiful blouse I bought at Nordstrom about 20 years ago. I'm wearing it today for the first time in 2 decades with brand new Avenue size 20s. I gotta give myself credit for that, but last night I ate and ate and ate again. Today I'm trying to stick to Paula's "no junk food" today challenge and doing double water. I never thought I'd say this, but I want to be a big fat loser!

When I read what I wrote last night it's hard to believe that was my life. I don't even think about those days anymore (unless I dip into meditative-therapy mode like last night.) All I'm stuck with now is the food obsession. If I married different, things might be easier, but I married a guy that likes a buffet every night. I'd like to get home and prepare a healthy dinner for us to enjoy, but he gets home a few hours before me so his feast is usually all ready. And he can't win with me because the days he cooks frustrate me because I'm trying to be good, and if he doesn't cook I come home famished and wish he would have! I never ever push any of my dieting issues on him, but he's affected nonetheless. He simply can't keep up with what I'm eating. On a rare occasion I'll cook, but after he eats what I make, he still makes himself a 2nd dinner later. Anything light or vegetable related is just a snack to him. Then he goes to bed at 7:00 pm, which leaves me alone for 3 very dangerous hours. Something about being alone in the dark at night flips my switch on, and the food screams my name. I've gone to bed with him to avoid my food obsession, but then I'm up at 2:00 am and feel horrible by the time I get to work. I wish I had kids, but that's just another thing I didn't get in life. I'm sure one day I'll figure out why God's plan wouldn't allow me to have either parents or children, but till then I borrow the neighbors' kids as often as possible. Only they are a bunch of bad eaters, too!

Okay Paula, here I am with half my jug emptied already. Remember yesterday's challenge.... huh... huh? NO JUNK FOOD TODAY. I was making my lunch of leftover chicken beans & cheese & was gonna toss a few tort chips in a baggie, but there was Paula's face in my kitchen, shaking her finger at me. So I left the chips behind and just brought the protein and water. Are we all still on?

Kelly, give us more than that! When are you seeing him (hopefully she's there right now.)

Sue, I got a message from LBT saying Melissa sent me a PM but my box was full. It's a big mystery! Pam, that purple bra is going to haunt me for life! I can't believe this post came back from the grave.

Darcy, clear out the guest room, you have a new roommate in Denialville. I'm right there with ya, sister! And those stupid bananas just make me want to eat a banana split. Why is food dancing around LBT? Can't we have dancing Hoola-Hoops or at least dancing lima beans? Don't throw your shoes at me, I have PMS. And now I won't be able to sleep till I see these pics of Conan and the parolee in girly panties. Jack, lace & Camo have been "in" since Madonna introduced them in the 80s, so gear up.

Whooosh! That was a pretty heavy post, so I better cheer you up now with a pretty funny Momster story. She always ate and made the most disgusting things. I think the worst was frozen liver dumped in a little steamy water with scrambled eggs. No salt, no butter, just eggs cooked in liver water and a hunk of frozen liver in the middle that was never cooked. I couldn't even gag it down as a child, so I just opted for the beatings. I don't even remember the beatings, I have very few memories of the Momster as a child. 7-8 blank years. Probably best I don't remember. But that's not the funny part. One day she read that cow's brains made you intelligent, so she steamed some up (like the liver, frozen blob of brains dumped in a pan with some water.) Gosh, my throat is all balled up just thinking about it. We were all dry heaving, and she made this huge drama scene about how they weren't as awful as they looked and tried reasoning with us about how expensive they were (as if that would motivate a 6 year old to eat brains.) So she scooped some into her mouth to show us that they were delicious... then she gagged! She never, ever wasted food, so she had to give her precious cow's brains to our dog, who took one sniff and ran out the door. That was the best day ever, so I guess I do have one good memory.

Paula, that was pretty funny because sometimes we read what we want to see, and I thought you were offering that we all ate nothing but junk food for an entire day tomorrow. I was all about that, instantly planning all the crap I'd buy at 7-11 in the morning. But then I read it a 2nd time, hahah, joke's on me. You're on, girlie. NO JUNK FOOD for one whole day. None. Protein and veggies, not even a carb. I'll do Michelle's-double-water-pee thing to keep me busy. I think I can, I think I can, I think... I know I can, I KNOW I can. Let me know if you can't find the little jug. It makes me feel very important, cuz I know I don't have to measure or get up off my fat butt to re-fill it. When it's empty, I'm done. But tomorrow I shall do two of them to keep me away from the junk!

Ryan, what an amazing story. This is the most healing thread ever. How do I make it one of those "sticky" things that stays at the top? I think I'll start a new thread for annual awards for the best threads, most creative, most controversial, etc. This one blows me away. This thread is the root of everything that has ever been wrong with me and my life. My food addictions and sick past will never leave me, no matter how much therapy I endure. Asking some of us to let go of the past is no different than asking me to change my hazel eyes to blue. I could put in some blue contact lenses, but I'll have to take them out at night in the dark when I'm all alone. We can't change. I don't dwell on the past or think of it when I'm eating, or when I'm watching food, or when I'm thinking of what to eat next. The memories aren't even around any more, but what happened to many of us when we were kids was like being branded for life with a hot Iron... many, many hot irons, over and over again. Sure, we can move on and say we'll eat slow, and we can chant matras to try to eat slow, and we can post notes reminding us to eat slow, and we can do daily affirmations, scream for help and go through the motions of eating slow. We can and do eat slow after much concentration and effort. But you simply can't re-program my brain to automatically eat slow, eat small, or stop when I'm full. It takes 24/7 work. I can't let my guards down for 2 seconds. I was losing weight and feeling great till the Christmas goodies, in all their heaps of abundance, won the fight. I started slow, using my new band as a tool, but eventually got right back into my old, pre-band habits of eating blind, numb, in hiding, fast, messy, glutonous. I hate myself for it. I should be hiding in the corner in shame, and I should hate myself. But I don't, and that's the progress I've made. That's where my personal growth shows. So even though I can't shake the embedded scars that my evil mother created, and even though I can't let go of the food that governs my every breathe, at least I can love myself now - most of the time anyway. I felt so alone, like nobody could ever understand my dark world. But right here, in this very post, I see that other people had to eat molded, rottten, cold scraps for Breakfast. Ryan, my Momster did the exact thing. We'd have to gag down boiled liver and crunchy lima Beans, no salt, no butter, no bread with mostly-clear powdered milk. My sister often gagged at the table, causing a gag reflex for my brother and I with 3 children vomiting at the table like one of those "waves" the crowds do at football games. I eventually learned a way to open the back of my throat and swallow whole chunks to avoid the taste. But if I couldn't get the last chunk down, it would be cold and old on the table in the morning. The first time I cut school was in kindergarden on Halloween, when she put something so digusting in front of me that I sat crying in it. She wouldn't let me go to school till I ate it, but then sent me late, on Halloween, with no costume (as if I didn't already stand out like the class freak.) So I walked around all day long, a lost little girl. Looking back, it was learning how to swallow food in whole chunks that began my need to gulp food as fast as possible. But I never got satisfaction from eating and gulping food, so as an adult, I just kept gulping and gulping everything in site, past being physically sick and never getting any enjoyment out of food. Just needing more, needing something, not getting what I need. To those of you that think we can shake these childhood traumas, we simply can't. I can't stop thinking about food. I'm stuffed from my salad and one piece of pizza, but for Heaven's sake, there's 3 pieces left in the kitchen screaming my name. I have to stop typing every few lines to mentally tell the pizza to shut up. I also have dreams of food. Huge, binge, fattening food. I feel full in my dreams. I hate myself in my dreams. We certainly can't control what we dream about. I've seen about a dozen therapists, and each one treats me like I'm the Lifetime Movie of the Week. They sit back in awe of these tales - and these are eating-disorder specialists. But the therapists haven't heard too much, so they're not too familiar with eating disorders, because dishonesty and "closet eating" are what they usually see in clients. Not me, I tell it like it is. Then they don't know what to tell me, so they send me away with the name of some book that some other normal-weighted person wrote based on what they learned in college. Ryan, everyone... keep sharing. I think this is brilliant. I'm 42 years old, and I'm finally meeting people who know me intimately. Some of you know me better than my husband because you are me, you've been there. Hey, guess what? After all these years, we're not alone, and it feels amazing. The last thing I want is sympathy, which would only make me feel pathetic. Perhaps that why I don't take things too seriously. I learned to laugh. Laughter saved my life. I learned to be blunt and say what's on my mind. I'm often too blunt, too outspoken, but that's just because I want to be heard. I don't want to sit in a corner alone any more, in the dark, crying. Writing just this one page was more valuable to me than all my therapy combined. If anyone read this far, thank you.

I do have one very stiff warning. Dr. Lopez must be well known and respected at the boarder, because he sends a certain taxi to the airport that picks you up and slides you right through customs within minutes. I did not wait going, and I did not wait coming back. However, on my second trip to Mexico to see Kuri, I was on my own. We parked our car on the California side and walked across the border to the taxi depot. Then we took Taxi Libre to Kuri's office. (Note, always take Taxi Libre instead of the others cuz it's the cheapest taxi company.) On my way out of Mexico, I grabbed a Taxi Libre and asked him to take us to the taxi depot so that we could walk across the boarder. But the taxi driver said he'd drive us across the boarder to the California parking lot. Well, we were naive since he said he did it all the time, but we almost got ourselves in a mess. When we got to the boarder, a bunch of cops came running trying to find out why a Taxi Libre was crossing. The driver was apparently using us to sneak across. The boarder patrolmen told us that Taxi drivers know damn well that they're not allowed to cross, so they almost accused us of trying to smuggle an illegal alien across the boarder. So they separated us and got the driver out of his car. They looked me dead in the eye and asked why I was there, so I lifted my shirt and told them I had surgery with Dr. Pedro Kuri. They asked if I had drugs, and I said "yes" and dumped my suitcase out, but they laughed at me and told me to go through cause I even showed them the antibacterial cream and a tube of chapstick. They are only looking for illegal smuggling of PEOPLE for starters, and quantities of drugs that can be sold in the US. So, if your doctor sends a car to meet you at the airport, well that driver was able to cross the boarder to leave the United States, so he won't have a problem getting you across the boarder. But if some taxi company offers to cross you, they are just hoping to use you to get across to the United States. Maybe the driver hoped I would be nice and come up with some lame excuse that the boarder patrol would believe, but it just got him in trouble. I'm not sure what they did with him, but once I was safe in the US, we ran like rats to our car!

My friend's mother can't always afford her pain medication, so when I was in Mexico we went into about 10 pharmacies looking for Percocet and/or Codeine. I was under the impression you could buy anything over-the-counter there. Not true. We talked to quite a few pharmacists in TJ, and all of them that we ran into were honest. We asked for the strongest over-the-counter meds - it became a research project. The strongest you can buy is basically comparable to Flexeril (muscle relaxer.) We bought about 10 bottles, which I showed them to customs along with my 3 prescriptions from my doctor, and they waved me right through and said they're not concerned with anything you buy in their pharmacies. Basically, there are certain Mexican doctors that will write you any prescriptions you want if you slip them some cash. So if you find a doc to write you 20 prescriptions for Lortab or Darvocet, then you may have trouble getting through customs. On my first trip they asked my purpose, and I told them I had the Band placed by Dr. Juan Lopez Corvala. They waived me right through without even asking if I had any medications. I was under the impression that they were happy to get American money.

This darn challenge worked. I got half my water in.

My problem is I succumbed to the first addictive bite... so now I hope the wrecking ball stops after my cycle is over. Facial piercings are really "in" these days. My latest invention is a padlock that slips between the top and bottom lip. Only certified Band Buddies at my local clinics have access to the keys. Fashionable, yet extremely effective. They'll be available this spring with an assortment of dangly decorative charms as part of the fall line. Order early.

And back to my wound... ouch, it hurts today. The silly thing is actually trying to close over. It's been closed for 3 days, but with the thinnest membrane of skin. It's just dying to pop back open again. One false move and KAPLOOEY. I'm keeping it covered with a thick bandage just to protect it from bumping things. Yesterday 9 things hit it (like nobody smacks your back till you're sunburned.) My cat jumped on me, a flying bag landed on it, a door smacked it, etc.

My doctor said, "absolutely NEVER drink with meals." Since today's been one constant meal, how am I supposed to drink my water? The water cooler is next to the evil bag of chocolates.

Interesting. Growing up I figured there were two kinds of parents. My insane mother, and a bunch of June Cleavers and Carol Bradys. I never imagined anything inbetween, with mothers smoking pot and fathers buying 30 pounds of cheese. Violet, wouldn't it be wonderful to have those small serving meals handed to you on a plate these days? That would be awesome! No more thinking, like living with Jenny Craig or one of Oprah's famous dieticians.

"my vision of "enough" has truly changed" This is what I wish to achieve. There never seems to be enough.

I usually finish my water by lunch, but I haven't even started today. There's too much chocolate in my belly. Somebody shoot me.

Where is my port-problem-pal? I haven't seen Melissa around. Maybe I'll take a current pic of my boo-boo in the purple bra just to keep Donali around.