Canary Diamond

Lately, I’ve been thinking about judgments & why people feel compelled to judge others. People post a lot here about feeling judged by friends and family members for deciding to have surgery, or feeling judged by skinny people for being fat in the first place. Personally, I have been fortunate that not one single negative word has been said to me with regards to having surgery. My family and friends have all been very supportive. Intellectually, I know I am (or have been) judged negatively by other people for my weight, but I honestly don’t usually notice those judgments. If I do happen to notice or feel judged by somebody, I don’t generally internalize the judgment and allow it to continue to affect me.
 
But it seems to me that there is also a fair amount of judgment happening among members of the WLS community. Sometimes it’s subtle and sometimes it quite overt, but it’s all judgmental bulls**t that says more about the person making the judgment than it does about the person being judged. Here are just a few judgments I have observed being made here and elsewhere among members of the WLS community. Some of these judgments have been directed at me, some I’ve observed in others, and one or two I am guilty of making.
 
Everyone who needs/wants WLS has a food addiction or depression or very low self-esteem. If you say you don’t, then you are either lying or in denial.
 
People who go to Mexico for surgery are less prepared mentally and emotionally than those who have surgery in the US.
 
My surgeon does things the “right” way. If your surgeon tells you something different, he/she is wrong and I am justified in telling you to ignore your surgeon’s instructions.
 
People who slip up on the preop diet are not ready for surgery and will likely fail.
 
People who do not follow instructions to the letter in the first couple of months post-op are not committed to the process and will likely fail.
 
People who do not commit wholeheartedly to an exercise plan postop are not committed to the process and will likely fail.
 
People who drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes, or smoke weed postop are not committed to the process and will likely fail.
 
People who come here posting questions without first searching for the answer are dumb or lazy.
 
People who credit their faith with helping them get through this process are annoying and should not talk about their faith in relation to WLS.
 
People who are atheist or agnostic are missing the most important part of life and should be pitied.
 
People who have plastics after WLS are vain.
 
People who struggle to put their own needs ahead of others aren't trying hard enough or valuing themselves enough.
 
 
I’m sure other folks can think of more, and there is also a whole raft of judgments that we frequently make against ourselves. The point is that none of these judgments are true and none of these judgments are supportive or helpful in any way. We all have our own path to travel, and I believe we each generally do the best we can at any given time. At various times, my “best” will be better than some and not nearly as good as others, and that’s true for everybody. I don’t know if judging others is a way to feel better about ourselves, or just a bad habit we fall into, but it certainly does seem to come naturally to us. In my opinion, reaching out for support is a healthy, intelligent, and wise thing to do. Let’s try to respect the courage it takes to be here, and check our judgments at the door.

An amazing thing is happening. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say, "I don't give a s h i t what other people think." Perhaps it's because I'm another year older today, and on birthdays one is wont to take stock. Perhaps it's because I am feeling the empowerment than accompanies true change. Perhaps it's because I'm finally realizing I have people in my life who love me unconditionally, or that I now know I am deserving of that love. Perhaps it is all of these. What I do know is I've said that phrase many times before, at times very convincingly, but I never meant it. I wanted to mean it, others even believed that I meant it because I come across as irreverent and impossible to embarrass, but there was always a motivational undercurrent of wanting to be liked.
 
The following is a list of notions I've recently come to accept as valid. Some are mere reminders to myself, some are rants, some are missives directed at specific people on this site. All are liberating:
 
I am not required to tell anyone about my decision to have weight loss surgery. Should I choose to do so, I have no obligation to explain or defend my decision.
 
I am justified in flipping off another driver when the egotistical delusions acquired from watching "The Fast and the Furious" momentarily override his cognizance of the fact that he is operating a deadly weapon.
 
I may express my offense when someone implies I should be ashamed of the way I look, or used to look.
 
I am permitted to be impolite, even rude, to a man whose words or actions are causing me to feel uncomfortable or unsafe. I am allowed to inflict physical harm if his clear intention is to harm me.
 
I am free to voice my belief that it is not all right for people posting in the general forum to attribute their weight loss to a higher power. If I attributed mine to Obama or the recent supreme court ruling on gay marriage, and put that post in a general discussion forum, I would be criticized. And rightfully so.
 
I have a right to discuss the increase in my libido on an internet forum, as well as the conundrum I'm faced with as a single teacher in a small town, without being accused of advertising for sex. And should someone attempt to shame me out of talking about sex, I have a right to stand firm in my refusal to be shamed.
 
I am allowed to call people out for misusing this and other support sites; for not following the rules, which have been clearly laid out; and I am allowed to do so without being subjected to ridicule and insult.
 
I am not required to dumb myself down because others are intimidated by my intelligence. I also am allowed to state that others are intimidated by my intelligence without apologizing or prefacing such a remark with a qualifier or self-deprecating damper such as "This is probably going to sound egotistical, but...." when I have a higher than average IQ. It is also true that I am endlessly disheartened by the dissolution of the English language, have won awards for performance and writing, and am, on the whole, infinitely more impressed with the emotional intelligence of animals over that of people. None of these statements require compensation.
 
I do not have to remain passive when others make remarks that are sexist, racist, ageist, homophobic, heterosexist, xenophobic, misogynistic, violently aggressive, indicative of body fascism, or convey intolerance of mental illness, mental retardation, or other disability.
 
I deserve to be treated with dignity.
 
And if you don't agree with me, I really don't care. Honestly. And it feels so f u c k i n g good to say that.

An amazing thing is happening. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say, "I don't give a s h i t what other people think." Perhaps it's because I'm another year older today, and on birthdays one is wont to take stock. Perhaps it's because I am feeling the empowerment than accompanies true change. Perhaps it's because I'm finally realizing I have people in my life who love me unconditionally, or that I now know I am deserving of that love. Perhaps it is all of these. What I do know is I've said that phrase many times before, at times very convincingly, but I never meant it. I wanted to mean it, others even believed that I meant it because I come across as irreverent and impossible to embarrass, but there was always a motivational undercurrent of wanting to be liked.
 
The following is a list of notions I've recently come to accept as valid. Some are mere reminders to myself, some are rants, some are missives directed at specific people on this site. All are liberating:
 
I am not required to tell anyone about my decision to have weight loss surgery. Should I choose to do so, I have no obligation to explain or defend my decision.
 
I am justified in flipping off another driver when the egotistical delusions acquired from watching "The Fast and the Furious" momentarily override his cognizance of the fact that he is operating a deadly weapon.
 
I may express my offense when someone implies I should be ashamed of the way I look, or used to look.
 
I am permitted to be impolite, even rude, to a man whose words or actions are causing me to feel uncomfortable or unsafe. I am allowed to inflict physical harm if his clear intention is to harm me.
 
I am free to voice my belief that it is not all right for people posting in the general forum to attribute their weight loss to a higher power. If I attributed mine to Obama or the recent supreme court ruling on gay marriage, and put that post in a general discussion forum, I would be criticized. And rightfully so.
 
I have a right to discuss the increase in my libido on an internet forum, as well as the conundrum I'm faced with as a single teacher in a small town, without being accused of advertising for sex. And should someone attempt to shame me out of talking about sex, I have a right to stand firm in my refusal to be shamed.
 
I am allowed to call people out for misusing this and other support sites; for not following the rules, which have been clearly laid out; and I am allowed to do so without being subjected to ridicule and insult.
 
I am not required to dumb myself down because others are intimidated by my intelligence. I also am allowed to state that others are intimidated by my intelligence without apologizing or prefacing such a remark with a qualifier or self-deprecating damper such as "This is probably going to sound egotistical, but...." when I have a higher than average IQ. It is also true that I am endlessly disheartened by the dissolution of the English language, have won awards for performance and writing, and am, on the whole, infinitely more impressed with the emotional intelligence of animals over that of people. None of these statements require compensation.
 
I do not have to remain passive when others make remarks that are sexist, racist, ageist, homophobic, heterosexist, xenophobic, misogynistic, violently aggressive, indicative of body fascism, or convey intolerance of mental illness, mental retardation, or other disability.
 
I deserve to be treated with dignity.
 
And if you don't agree with me, I really don't care. Honestly. And it feels so f u c k i n g good to say that.

Dealing With Stalls
 
Just be patient. I know it's frustrating when the scale doesn't move. I'm on week 11 and I've had at least 3 different weeks where the scale doesn't move for 7 days, then I'll mysteriously be down 2 - 3 pounds overnight. Your body is just acclimating to the lower calorie intake and sometimes it is holding onto every calorie, trying to replace the glycogen stores in the muscles.
 
I don't have a formula for getting the scale moving again, but I do try to mix things up to keep my body from getting used to a set pattern. I walk a little extra, up my vegetable intake, or eat low carb for a day or two to see how my body will react.
 
I was eating pistachio nuts and sunflower seeds last week and EEEEEKKKKKK! I gained 2 lbs that week. Monday I went back to basics of eating my refried beans and chicken (eating 4oz every 2 hours), this morning I've lost the extra 2 lbs plus another 1lb.
 
For the 1st time in 4 years I'm under 310lbs.

My libido is through the roof since having surgery. It is, without a doubt, the highest it has ever been in my life. A juicy, throbbing beast of arousal. It's like I have a whole new set of nerve endings and with the slightest whiff of sexuality they are firing on all pistons. I haven't even lost that much weight; the weight I'm at now is one I've been at many times in my life, with unspectacular effects on my sex drive.
 
But everything has changed. I understand the appeal of David Guetta songs. I understand why people risk going to jail for public indecency. I understand why women look forward to doing laundry so much. I even think I may be beginning to understand how it feels to be a man. Make that a teenage boy. Let me put it this way, I don't think I'll need to continue the 30 Day Abs Challenge to see results by next week.
 
I have a theory for this: For the first time in my life, the prospect of a toned, sexy body is real. Guaranteed, in fact, as long as I don't push my sleeve. I think my libido went to sleep years ago when it realized it wasn't going to be put to use anytime soon, and now it has awoken like a bear jolted out of hibernation by jumper cables.
 
And how the hell is it that men KNOW when you're feeling like this? Walking my dog today, literally every man I passed turned his head. Two guys even slowed their cars waaaaaaaaayyyy down as they were passing by and watched me. I was wearing sweatpants, slurping on a protein shake, and carrying a bag of $h!t - not exactly exuding an air of....well, what I'd just done in the shower.
 
If you can relate, I would love to hear from you. Especially if you're single like me. How did/do you keep yourself under control? I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something stupid. As a teacher in a small town, something tells me if I were caught in a park humping the statues people wouldn't want me around their children anymore.

My libido is through the roof since having surgery. It is, without a doubt, the highest it has ever been in my life. A juicy, throbbing beast of arousal. It's like I have a whole new set of nerve endings and with the slightest whiff of sexuality they are firing on all pistons. I haven't even lost that much weight; the weight I'm at now is one I've been at many times in my life, with unspectacular effects on my sex drive.
 
But everything has changed. I understand the appeal of David Guetta songs. I understand why people risk going to jail for public indecency. I understand why women look forward to doing laundry so much. I even think I may be beginning to understand how it feels to be a man. Make that a teenage boy. Let me put it this way, I don't think I'll need to continue the 30 Day Abs Challenge to see results by next week.
 
I have a theory for this: For the first time in my life, the prospect of a toned, sexy body is real. Guaranteed, in fact, as long as I don't push my sleeve. I think my libido went to sleep years ago when it realized it wasn't going to be put to use anytime soon, and now it has awoken like a bear jolted out of hibernation by jumper cables.
 
And how the hell is it that men KNOW when you're feeling like this? Walking my dog today, literally every man I passed turned his head. Two guys even slowed their cars waaaaaaaaayyyy down as they were passing by and watched me. I was wearing sweatpants, slurping on a protein shake, and carrying a bag of $h!t - not exactly exuding an air of....well, what I'd just done in the shower.
 
If you can relate, I would love to hear from you. Especially if you're single like me. How did/do you keep yourself under control? I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something stupid. As a teacher in a small town, something tells me if I were caught in a park humping the statues people wouldn't want me around their children anymore.

My libido is through the roof since having surgery. It is, without a doubt, the highest it has ever been in my life. A juicy, throbbing beast of arousal. It's like I have a whole new set of nerve endings and with the slightest whiff of sexuality they are firing on all pistons. I haven't even lost that much weight; the weight I'm at now is one I've been at many times in my life, with unspectacular effects on my sex drive.
 
But everything has changed. I understand the appeal of David Guetta songs. I understand why people risk going to jail for public indecency. I understand why women look forward to doing laundry so much. I even think I may be beginning to understand how it feels to be a man. Make that a teenage boy. Let me put it this way, I don't think I'll need to continue the 30 Day Abs Challenge to see results by next week.
 
I have a theory for this: For the first time in my life, the prospect of a toned, sexy body is real. Guaranteed, in fact, as long as I don't push my sleeve. I think my libido went to sleep years ago when it realized it wasn't going to be put to use anytime soon, and now it has awoken like a bear jolted out of hibernation by jumper cables.
 
And how the hell is it that men KNOW when you're feeling like this? Walking my dog today, literally every man I passed turned his head. Two guys even slowed their cars waaaaaaaaayyyy down as they were passing by and watched me. I was wearing sweatpants, slurping on a protein shake, and carrying a bag of $h!t - not exactly exuding an air of....well, what I'd just done in the shower.
 
If you can relate, I would love to hear from you. Especially if you're single like me. How did/do you keep yourself under control? I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something stupid. As a teacher in a small town, something tells me if I were caught in a park humping the statues people wouldn't want me around their children anymore.

My libido is through the roof since having surgery. It is, without a doubt, the highest it has ever been in my life. A juicy, throbbing beast of arousal. It's like I have a whole new set of nerve endings and with the slightest whiff of sexuality they are firing on all pistons. I haven't even lost that much weight; the weight I'm at now is one I've been at many times in my life, with unspectacular effects on my sex drive.
 
But everything has changed. I understand the appeal of David Guetta songs. I understand why people risk going to jail for public indecency. I understand why women look forward to doing laundry so much. I even think I may be beginning to understand how it feels to be a man. Make that a teenage boy. Let me put it this way, I don't think I'll need to continue the 30 Day Abs Challenge to see results by next week.
 
I have a theory for this: For the first time in my life, the prospect of a toned, sexy body is real. Guaranteed, in fact, as long as I don't push my sleeve. I think my libido went to sleep years ago when it realized it wasn't going to be put to use anytime soon, and now it has awoken like a bear jolted out of hibernation by jumper cables.
 
And how the hell is it that men KNOW when you're feeling like this? Walking my dog today, literally every man I passed turned his head. Two guys even slowed their cars waaaaaaaaayyyy down as they were passing by and watched me. I was wearing sweatpants, slurping on a protein shake, and carrying a bag of $h!t - not exactly exuding an air of....well, what I'd just done in the shower.
 
If you can relate, I would love to hear from you. Especially if you're single like me. How did/do you keep yourself under control? I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something stupid. As a teacher in a small town, something tells me if I were caught in a park humping the statues people wouldn't want me around their children anymore.

My libido is through the roof since having surgery. It is, without a doubt, the highest it has ever been in my life. A juicy, throbbing beast of arousal. It's like I have a whole new set of nerve endings and with the slightest whiff of sexuality they are firing on all pistons. I haven't even lost that much weight; the weight I'm at now is one I've been at many times in my life, with unspectacular effects on my sex drive.
 
But everything has changed. I understand the appeal of David Guetta songs. I understand why people risk going to jail for public indecency. I understand why women look forward to doing laundry so much. I even think I may be beginning to understand how it feels to be a man. Make that a teenage boy. Let me put it this way, I don't think I'll need to continue the 30 Day Abs Challenge to see results by next week.
 
I have a theory for this: For the first time in my life, the prospect of a toned, sexy body is real. Guaranteed, in fact, as long as I don't push my sleeve. I think my libido went to sleep years ago when it realized it wasn't going to be put to use anytime soon, and now it has awoken like a bear jolted out of hibernation by jumper cables.
 
And how the hell is it that men KNOW when you're feeling like this? Walking my dog today, literally every man I passed turned his head. Two guys even slowed their cars waaaaaaaaayyyy down as they were passing by and watched me. I was wearing sweatpants, slurping on a protein shake, and carrying a bag of $h!t - not exactly exuding an air of....well, what I'd just done in the shower.
 
If you can relate, I would love to hear from you. Especially if you're single like me. How did/do you keep yourself under control? I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something stupid. As a teacher in a small town, something tells me if I were caught in a park humping the statues people wouldn't want me around their children anymore.

My libido is through the roof since having surgery. It is, without a doubt, the highest it has ever been in my life. A juicy, throbbing beast of arousal. It's like I have a whole new set of nerve endings and with the slightest whiff of sexuality they are firing on all pistons. I haven't even lost that much weight; the weight I'm at now is one I've been at many times in my life, with unspectacular effects on my sex drive.
 
But everything has changed. I understand the appeal of David Guetta songs. I understand why people risk going to jail for public indecency. I understand why women look forward to doing laundry so much. I even think I may be beginning to understand how it feels to be a man. Make that a teenage boy. Let me put it this way, I don't think I'll need to continue the 30 Day Abs Challenge to see results by next week.
 
I have a theory for this: For the first time in my life, the prospect of a toned, sexy body is real. Guaranteed, in fact, as long as I don't push my sleeve. I think my libido went to sleep years ago when it realized it wasn't going to be put to use anytime soon, and now it has awoken like a bear jolted out of hibernation by jumper cables.
 
And how the hell is it that men KNOW when you're feeling like this? Walking my dog today, literally every man I passed turned his head. Two guys even slowed their cars waaaaaaaaayyyy down as they were passing by and watched me. I was wearing sweatpants, slurping on a protein shake, and carrying a bag of $h!t - not exactly exuding an air of....well, what I'd just done in the shower.
 
If you can relate, I would love to hear from you. Especially if you're single like me. How did/do you keep yourself under control? I feel like I'm on the verge of doing something stupid. As a teacher in a small town, something tells me if I were caught in a park humping the statues people wouldn't want me around their children anymore.

Well, this is embarrassing to admit, but for the past 2 years I've had to sit down to pee. At some point my gut and the fat pooch above my junk got too big and it was a real hassle (and messy) to use the urinals. So it was just easier and cleaner to sit on the toilet.
 
So it was a happy surprise when I realized yesterday that I could use the urinals again. My job requires a dress shirt.
 
I hated having to drop trou, tuck my shirt tale back in, and fight with my belt every time I went to the bathroom.
 
Now I can go back to hosing down the back of the urinal and destroying the cigarette butts at the bottom. :-P
 
P.S. They must think guys are pretty dumb around here. I saw a sign above the urinal that read, "Please don't eat the big white mint!"
 

During which week of the post-op diet is foot on the menu?
 
I'm teaching a summer chemistry class to adorable little teenagers. My post-op week we were using small, round candies (not using names - don't want to trigger anyone) to represent atomic particles during radioactive decay. Of course, they could eat whatever they weren't using. At the beginning of class, seeing the HUGE and numerous bags of candy on my demo table, they asked if we were going to be doing something with them for that day's class (they are masters of deduction - watch out, Dr. House!) and I joked that it was all for me.
 
Fast forward to the end of class, as they're cleaning up/inhaling their candy like Dysons. One of them asks if I'm going to have any and I reply, "Nah, I have surgery next week and I'm on a liquid diet." WAY TO GO, BIG MOUTH. Of course, they wanted to know more. I joked that I would tell them about it afterwards. That way If I died on the table they could make up whatever story they wanted ("Did you hear Ms. Diamond had a brain aneurysm and farted out her spleen???").
 
Well, I didn't die (thanks a lot, Dr. Illan), so now I'm in a pickle. I have no idea what to say if they ask me about it in class today. Do I lie and say I was just trying to crash diet before my beach/wedding/girls' weekend vacation? Or do I go the evasive route and imply it's gross and personal and they wouldn't want to know? I know some of you are wondering why I don't just tell them the truth. I'm sure when I'm 50+ pounds down and everybody's asking, my attitude may be different, but as of now the only people I've told are my immediate family and therapist. Something tells me that revealing my very personal secret to a room full of Tweeting teenagers may not be the best way to maintain an ounce of decorum in this very small town. Any fellow foot-eaters who can offer follow-up advice?

Yesterday was my 49th birthday. As I look back over the past almost-decade, I’m amazed at how much has changed, and how far I’ve come. Since I turned 40, I have gone through a number of big life changes, including divorce and remarriage, job/career changes, and achieving a college education. All of those changes have been enriching and empowering for me. It feels like my 40’s have just been one change after another. I have really come into my own over the past few years, in so many ways that I never anticipated. I am excited about becoming a professional counselor, and inspired by the opportunity to have a positive impact in my small corner of the world. I have been so blessed by supportive friends and family, and I am very grateful for the love that lifts me up each day.
 
Over the past few years, the one major negative change has been my mobility. I can no longer do so many things that I used to do and still want to do. The degree of limitation in my life has become unacceptable to me, and the time to take action is now. So, as I celebrate turning 49, I am already looking ahead to my 50th birthday next year. At that time, I will be 11 months post-op. I have no idea how much weight I will have lost, but I trust that my physical condition will have changed for the better. My plan is to celebrate the beginning of my new decade by doing something physical that would not have been possible at the end of this decade. I don’t know exactly what it will be, but I’ll think of something. It seems very appropriate to celebrate turning 50 by doing something that was not possible for me at 49. I don’t expect to start running or take up mountain climbing; I just want to walk without pain. I want to be able to stand for more than a few minutes, and maybe even to dance again. I want to be able to walk around downtown, or go shopping at the mall. I want to be able to do projects around my house and work in the yard. When we go to the beach, I want to be able to take Tony’s hand and go for a walk in the sand. But until that day comes, I will be thankful to hold his hand as I take this next step, and give myself a gift for next year and beyond.

I'm going to lay out some thoughts I've been having. My intent is not to minimize the experience of anyone else, but simply to offer my own thoughts and beliefs. I know this journey is different for all of us, but I am always saddened when I see a post about how a pre-op person can't wait to "be skinny" or "look hot" or "feel good about myself again". Skinny does not equal happy. Skinny does not equal hot. Skinny does not equal feeling good about ourselves. There are just as many skinny people who are unhappy, unattractive, and down on themselves as fat people. Happiness, feeling attractive, and feeling good about oneself are characteristics generated from within, not without.
 
A few years ago, at a very low point in my life, happiness seemed to me like a foreign concept. I could not remember the last time I had felt genuinely joyous or happy about anything. Intellectually, I knew that there were many things in my life that were desirable. I had a good job, a comfortable house, a dependable car, some money in the bank, food in the fridge, etc. But despite these things, I was unhappy. Now, I had good reasons to be unhappy, or so I thought. My marriage was failing, I was coming to grips with the fact that I would never be a mother, I wanted desperately to change my life but felt completely stuck, and so on. I remember reading somewhere that happy is a verb...it's an action, not a passive condition. I began to wonder...if I truly felt that there was no spark of happiness or joy in my life, who's fault was that? Who was responsible for my happiness? The answer, of course, is me. I was failing myself. I was not loving myself, or being kind to myself.
 
I decided that if happy was an action, I was going to try and exercise my happy muscle. I was going to try and find one thing to feel happy about for a few minutes every day. My goal was 3-5 minutes a day of active happiness. I thought that would be super easy. After all, I had been able to identify good things in my life, so how hard could it be to think about them for a couple of minutes every day? Well, it was actually harder than I expected, but I stuck with it. I had to set a timer in the beginning, but I made myself do it every single day. Gradually, I noticed it got easier. Some days all I could come up with was something like the weather, or the fact that my bills were paid on time, but damn it...if that was all I had, then I was damn well going to focus on it & feel happy for 3 freakin' minutes.
 
I eventually began to notice that I felt happier overall. I'm not sure why, because by this time I was just divorced and trying to figure out dating at 270 lbs & maintaining my new house, etc, but regardless, I felt happier. After meeting the man who has become my 2nd husband, he said that one of the things that attracted him to me was that I always seemed happy. I'm not saying that this is somehow a magic bullet against bad stuff happening, but holding happiness in my mind for a few minutes every day helps me to deal with the inevitable downs of life. It seems to me that consciously taking time to feel happy each day has somehow made a state of happiness more accessible in my brain.
 
It's been almost 7 years since I began my happiness quest, and I can honestly say I feel happier today than I ever have in my life. To quote Charlotte in the Sex and The City movie, "I feel happy every day. Not all day every day, but every day I feel happy." In choosing to have the sleeve, I absolutely do not expect it to make me happy, because I'm already happy. I feel pretty good about myself today, this minute, at 300+ lbs. Yes, there are things I want to do, but I can't right now. Yes, I have pain every day & difficulty walking, but I still feel good about who I am and what I have to offer in my small corner of the world. I am aware that I am probably judged negatively by some people because of my weight, but I don't even really notice that. Today, I find it so much easier to find things in my life that make me genuinely happy. I am definitely looking forward to weighing less and seeing an improvement in my mobility, but I don't think it will make me somehow better or more acceptable or a more worthy person. I am enough, right now, just as I am. We all are, and we are all so very precious. Today, right now, at this very moment, we are beautiful, and we are valuable, and we are enough. I believe that with all my heart, and I hope you do, too.

Check out my latest video for this exciting announcement!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXurQmN6IXE

During which week of the post-op diet is foot on the menu?
 
I'm teaching a summer chemistry class to adorable little teenagers. My post-op week we were using small, round candies (not using names - don't want to trigger anyone) to represent atomic particles during radioactive decay. Of course, they could eat whatever they weren't using. At the beginning of class, seeing the HUGE and numerous bags of candy on my demo table, they asked if we were going to be doing something with them for that day's class (they are masters of deduction - watch out, Dr. House!) and I joked that it was all for me.
 
Fast forward to the end of class, as they're cleaning up/inhaling their candy like Dysons. One of them asks if I'm going to have any and I reply, "Nah, I have surgery next week and I'm on a liquid diet." WAY TO GO, BIG MOUTH. Of course, they wanted to know more. I joked that I would tell them about it afterwards. That way If I died on the table they could make up whatever story they wanted ("Did you hear Ms. Diamond had a brain aneurysm and farted out her spleen???").
 
Well, I didn't die (thanks a lot, Dr. Illan), so now I'm in a pickle. I have no idea what to say if they ask me about it in class today. Do I lie and say I was just trying to crash diet before my beach/wedding/girls' weekend vacation? Or do I go the evasive route and imply it's gross and personal and they wouldn't want to know? I know some of you are wondering why I don't just tell them the truth. I'm sure when I'm 50+ pounds down and everybody's asking, my attitude may be different, but as of now the only people I've told are my immediate family and therapist. Something tells me that revealing my very personal secret to a room full of Tweeting teenagers may not be the best way to maintain an ounce of decorum in this very small town. Any fellow foot-eaters who can offer follow-up advice?

Check out my latest video for this exciting announcement!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXurQmN6IXE

I swore to myself I wouldn't be one of those posters who whines about ONLY losing ______ pounds. "I lost 52 pounds the first two months, but only 12 this month. I was really hoping to weigh less than my cat by now. "
 
Well, I'm whining. It's a week after surgery and I've lost 2 pounds. While I'm sure this is not uncommon, I can't seem to find any supporting evidence to that end. Stalls seem to make their first appearance, for the most part, in the second and third weeks after surgery. Also, I'm full of gas. More gas than I had two days after surgery. I can't seem to take a sip of anything without swallowing three times as much air. And it won't come out. If I tied a basket to my feet, I could probably give balloon rides over the breathtaking Oregon coast (note to self: possible future career?).
 
I'm just crabby. Nothing's working the way it should and everyone else is to blame. I keep having these practice confrontations with make-believe opponents in which I am angrily defending myself in imaginary scenarios. These things that haven't happened are making me very upset. And my mom moved my $h!t around while I was in Mexico. And did my laundry (which was a very nice thing to do, but also implies my incompetence, right?). And bought the wrong kind of yogurt.
 
And I don't want to take Anatomy and Physiology from that @$$ho!e who won't let me change lab times, even though my schedule only permits me to take the online class but not the online class's lab. Oh, it's my responsibility to free my schedule up so you don't have to deal with the grading "nightmare", as you put it, of dealing with students in labs they aren't registered for? I suppose I should apologize for being the ONE student at Southwestern Oregon Community College who's ever gone for her second Master's? (statistic not confirmed) Really, Mr. "I don't even have a Master's! Just a Bachelor's in Biology and a f**king chiropractic certificate"!!! SERIOUSLY???? Maybe I just won't become a nurse practitioner. That'll show him.
 
And this website won't even let me curse. I have to use fµck¡n8 §Ymb@[$!!! First Amendment, anyone?
 
And my dog is stinky.

I swore to myself I wouldn't be one of those posters who whines about ONLY losing ______ pounds. "I lost 52 pounds the first two months, but only 12 this month. I was really hoping to weigh less than my cat by now. "
 
Well, I'm whining. It's a week after surgery and I've lost 2 pounds. While I'm sure this is not uncommon, I can't seem to find any supporting evidence to that end. Stalls seem to make their first appearance, for the most part, in the second and third weeks after surgery. Also, I'm full of gas. More gas than I had two days after surgery. I can't seem to take a sip of anything without swallowing three times as much air. And it won't come out. If I tied a basket to my feet, I could probably give balloon rides over the breathtaking Oregon coast (note to self: possible future career?).
 
I'm just crabby. Nothing's working the way it should and everyone else is to blame. I keep having these practice confrontations with make-believe opponents in which I am angrily defending myself in imaginary scenarios. These things that haven't happened are making me very upset. And my mom moved my $h!t around while I was in Mexico. And did my laundry (which was a very nice thing to do, but also implies my incompetence, right?). And bought the wrong kind of yogurt.
 
And I don't want to take Anatomy and Physiology from that @$$ho!e who won't let me change lab times, even though my schedule only permits me to take the online class but not the online class's lab. Oh, it's my responsibility to free my schedule up so you don't have to deal with the grading "nightmare", as you put it, of dealing with students in labs they aren't registered for? I suppose I should apologize for being the ONE student at Southwestern Oregon Community College who's ever gone for her second Master's? (statistic not confirmed) Really, Mr. "I don't even have a Master's! Just a Bachelor's in Biology and a f**king chiropractic certificate"!!! SERIOUSLY???? Maybe I just won't become a nurse practitioner. That'll show him.
 
And this website won't even let me curse. I have to use fµck¡n8 §Ymb@[$!!! First Amendment, anyone?
 
And my dog is stinky.