Cherrybomb

My weight hasn't changed all week, which considering the amount of calories I am consuming seems unbelievable. So getting dressed this morning delivered a much needed NSV. My "skinny" jeans - hardly skinny but jeans that have never fit well - feel pretty darn good and a shirt that I tried on a week ago suddenly has room to spare. The shirt really threw me because I had tried it on just a bit ago and decided it made me look pregnant. Now, it is loose in the stomach and doesn't leave an imprint across my butt from being so tight. It's amazing what an NSV can do for your mood. Plateau, schmateau....

Though I still hope to see the numbers actually go down soon!

It's funny how when I start to focus on my weight and losing it, I also start looking at my appearance and making changes. The nail polish comes out, the tweezers go to work, even tubes of self-bronzer, liquid eyeliner, and exfoliant find there way back into my life. Instead of buying Real Simple magazine, I pick up Vogue or Elle. Instead of searching out comfy sweat pants, I'm looking for fitted jackets and fancy bras. I wonder why, for me, the girly girl side of my personality really doesn't come out unless I am paying attention to my weight. There are many overweight women who wouldn't leave the house without makeup but I've never been one of them. I head out with scarcely my hair being brushed, let along spending time getting my lip liner on straight. Don't get me wrong, just because I haven't worried about these things doesn't mean I don't know how to do them. I'm fairly adept at makeup, accessorizing, and all the other fashionable arts. I just never bothered to partake in them while I was doing my best to ignore my weight.

Certainly any shrink, hairdress or celebrity stylist could diagnose the reason for my apathy. If someone is ignoring their growing waist line, they might not want to draw attention to themselves with nail polish and glossy lips. In short, if you feel like a sow's ear, you can't really imagine fashioning yourself into a silk purse.

I admire those ladies of size that say "to hell with that" and go for the glamour. I think its great that their weight doesn't bear any relation to how they view themselves as a woman. But for me, I just don't feel sexy or worthy of pampering when my weight is out of control. But the control I now have with the band has also unleashed my inner fashionista. Even though I have a long way to go to my goal weight, my perception is changing. I am seeing myself in a new way; someone in the mirror who likes mascara framing her eyes. I doubt I'll ever become a woman who can't leave the house without her makeup, but I'll have that vixen red lipstick in my purse, just in case.:kiss2:

I have a long way to go to get down to my "goal" weight, but I have a list of things I'd like to do that will be so rewarding. Here they are:

1) Get down below 300. My first priority

2) Wear the cute SJP Bitten jeans hanging in my closet as motivation

3) Cross my legs easily and comfortably

4) Buy bras at Victoria's Secret

5) Take up new exercise activities - running, bellydancing, ballet aerobics; get active and like it.

6) Go skiing

7) Be smaller (alot smaller) than my husband

8) Fit easily in all chairs, rides, booths - in fact, not have to even think about whether I will fit.

9) Wear calf-length boots

10) Lose my bustle butt

11) Lose 100 pounds

12) Bring my blood sugars down to normal range

Yesterday, I was hungry. I mean full fledged, nauseous from the rumbling, hungry. Nothing seemed to help. Not protein shakes, not yogurt, not popsicles, not soup, not juice, not a latte - nothing. I was so sick by the end of the day from not eating something solid that all I could do was lay down on the sofa and wish I had never had the surgery. Not even a week since I received the band and I felt so low I didn't know if I could get up. Of course, factor in the fact that my grandmother's house burned to the ground the day before and I had been exerting myself trying to help her deal with it all. If ever I wanted a time for "comfort food" it was during this ordeal. But the comfort wasn't there. Not with pizza or french fries, or mashed potatoes. Just liquid. I know my hunger was physical, I simply was crashing from the lack of calories and the energy expended. But it was mental too. I was mentally hungry for the foods that make me feel better. I was physically hungry and I wanted to fill that hunger with feel good foods - not pureed bean soup. There is nothing appealing about pureed bean soup. Especially when you just want to feel full and warm and ok as you watch the ashes of a home smolder and almost 90 years of life go up in smoke. We are so grateful that my grandmother survived the fire but the trauma is still very real and very scary. I find myself worrying about my own home. I looked carefully at my son's nightlight, I unplugged our outdoor water fountain, I slept fitfully thinking of smoke. This kind of turmoil is rare for most people, thankfully. But here I am dealing with it in full force and I can't even eat with my family, can't even comfort myself with those foods of my childhood.

Yesterday, I was hungry. Hungry in my body, my mind and my soul. I can't remember ever being this hungry before, but most of it had nothing to do with the protein shakes and the jello.

Physically, I'm feeling great (only three days out from surgery) but mentally, I had a hard time last night. I started doubting again. I wondered if I rushed into this decision. My hubby valiantly tried to reassure me but honestly, I was scared. Scared of what, I really can't say. I guess I was afraid that I would have a bunch of complications and need surgery again. Or that I would be some kind of freak, having to eat jello the rest of my life. I know none of this is likely but Fear and I have a long standing relationship. I worry - a lot. I sweat the big stuff, the small stuff and the impossible stuff. I'm the kind of worry wart that won't touch egg salad at a picnic for fear of food poisoning from the heat. So take someone with major anxiety and plop them into the situation where they now have a device inside them and a whole new way of living to learn. I guess it is no wonder I kinda freaked out.

Strangely, this morning, I felt calm. I made a cup of tea, and really didn't think about the band. I guess each day will be unknown for awhile, until I settle into this new lifestyle. Some days I will be feeling great - both mentally and physically - and some days my old friend Fear will pop up for a visit. I guess this is all part of the journey. I will know I have turned the corner on my new life when Fear no longer factors into my thoughts.

"A life lived in fear is a life half lived"

In my classic OCD way, I am always impatient for things to get going. I focus on what I want to have happen and then I keep fixating on that until it either happens or I finally realize that it isn't going to. Well, no suprise that I am impatient to be fully functional after the surgery. It is day three and even though I have made remarkable progress - no nausea, no narcotics, able to walk around and do things - I still want to be ready for everything. I want to start riding my bike. The bike that has been languishing in the garage for seven years. I want to sleep through the night without feeling the soreness of my stomach wounds. I want the weight to just fall off of me like so much magic. This morning, my weight was up four pounds from yesterday. Now I know there is no way that I gained any weight - it is fluid for recovering from the surgery - but the old voice of impatience rings out and wants the weight to hurry up and come off. Part of this journey is going to be getting my head to just go along on the journey and not be fixating on the end. I need time to relearn how to be me - how to eat again, how to exercise, how to relate to my family and friends as the "new me". Patience is going to be my watch word for awhile. This journey is just beginning; I better settle in for the long haul.

I am on day two since my surgery. Yesterday, when I came home from the surgery, all I could think about was things I couldn't eat. I started to doubt myself, doubt that I had made the right decision, doubted that I could stand having this thing in my body. I tried not to think about it and worked on losing myself in something else so I wouldn't dwell. Today though, I really started to settle into the idea of my new life. My sister said to me, "Congratulations, it is your new birthday." And I guess, that really is a true statement. My life is going to be very different from here on out. Not just the change in eating habits (the dos and don'ts) but in who I am. I am excited to start dropping weight so I can find my inner athelete. I want to participate in the Danskin Triathlon next year. I want to be physically strong, I want to run. Those are things that I couldn't accomplish carrying around my weight. Now, those things seem closer than they ever were before. I want to be a better parent for my son - more active, more willing to take changes and try new things. I want to find some inner peace and tap into serenity, improving the quality of my life and decreasing my stress.

I don't know if the band will be with me forever, but I hope that the lifestyle changes will be. I am excited to discover who I am behind this mask of pounds. Excited and a little scared.