Sharon1964

I am in a long distance relationship. Someone said to me, "after you lose weight, are you going to meet someone local?"
::blinkblink::
Sure, because the reason I'm in a long-distance relationship is because I can't get a man that wants to see me more often since I'm so fat!

There isn't even any hair on the urethral opening, which is where the catheter goes. This requirement boggles the mind.
Heck, most obstetricians don't require shaving for childbirth, which actually involves that general area! And if any of my obstetricians HAD required it, I would have dropped them like a hot potato!

So a month or so ago I bought four new bras because my old ones were too big. The new size was 48DD. The only time I've been less than DD was when I got down to under 175 pounds, a VERY long time ago.
What the heck was I thinking - buying four bras?!?!?
Today, I put on the nice black one with little gold dots all over it. Raised my arm to put on deodorant and whoopsie... the bra slides up right over the girls. Not a good look.
I got out of work early because I finished a huge project and my boss was grateful and told me to take the afternoon off. Went to Catherines, tried on a 46DD. The band size was fine, the cups were far too small. Got a 46DDD and tried it on, fit perfectly.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
My girls have deflated. I almost have to start at the floor and roll them up and stuff them in. How in the heck did I go UP a cup size?????
That's bra math. Don't try this at home.

I'm as tough as nails, and don't really care what other people think most of the time. In this instance, I was talking about literally fitting physically into the world. Socially fitting in is a whole 'nother story.
And now, I fit! I fit the airplane seat, I fit the restaurant booth, I fit the seat at the basketball game, I fit into the chairs with arms!

I too, have not yet had surgery but a number of years back lost a great deal of weight. This is how a typical conversation would go:
Person: Wow, you look great, have you lost weight?
Me: thank you
Person: (looking confused) how much have you lost?
Me: thank you
Person: I asked you a question
Me: sorry, I didn't hear anything you said after "you look great", because really, is there anything to say after that??

Can you be a bit more specific as to what you are having a hard time with? How much to eat? What foods to eat? How often? Are you having a hard time getting food down?
If you tell us you're vomiting every time you try to eat, that's a different problem than being uncertain of what to eat.

I was at a party last weekend, and someone walked past me that I haven't seen in a couple of years. We made eye contact, I smiled, and he had no reaction. He kept looking at me, probably to try to figure out why this woman he doesn't know was grinning like an idiot. Finally, I said, "Mike, it's (name I use with that group)". When he "got it", it was awesome.
Yeah, I go to parties where people use pseudonyms.

I am in a long distance relationship. Someone said to me, "after you lose weight, are you going to meet someone local?"
::blinkblink::
Sure, because the reason I'm in a long-distance relationship is because I can't get a man that wants to see me more often since I'm so fat!

The bodice is far too big, and this was at the end of the night when my head was killing me. These views don't do justice to the outfit.

It's not a secret that I take an antidepressant. It took me a long time to be open about that, as my family are "just snap out of it" kind of people. My brain just doesn't handle serotonin well on its own. Without an antidepressant, everything and nothing makes me cry and I can't feel joy. With it, I feel and act, like a normal person (HEY! no comments from the peanut gallery!).
Last week at work was a week from hell. Patient almost dying in the parking lot, another patient having a psychotic break and calling constantly with delusions of grandeur and racing thoughts (and I got to take his calls), several interactions with the police regarding that same patient, dismissing two patients (one for combining alcohol with her meds on top of a positive drug test for pcp, another for increasing her meds on her own several times)... you name it, we went through it.
I take my medications (antidepressant and vitamins) after I get to work; it's part of my morning routine at the office. With all the chaos, I forgot to take them on Thursday. Then I forgot to take them on Friday. Then I went out of town on Saturday and forgot to take them.
Saturday I went to an adult, Disney-themed party. I went as Milady de Winter, the spy from The Three Musketeers that plots to kill the king of France (if you've seen Disney's version with Tim Curry, Kiefer Sutherland, Charlie Sheen, etc., it was the part played by Rebecca DeMornay). Years ago when I was doing Renaissance stuff, I made a beautiful Italian Renaissance green and gold gown, underdress, etc. So I wore that, and everything I was wearing I had made myself, with the exception of my shoes. Roughly half of the women at the party were wearing as little as possible. There was a costume contest, and I came in second, behind a girl dressed as Belle, in a very short dress with major cleavage. Think "adult Halloween costume" versus historically-accurate gown that you might see in a Renaissance painting.
It left me in tears, and it shouldn't have. It was clearly a cleavage contest, as a number of people expressed in surprise to me afterwards. I have no cleavage anymore. I used to fill out the bust of this dress and then some. I was able to tighten up the bodice a bit, but still no cleavage.
I couldn't believe how stupid I felt for being in tears over something like this. Something that doesn't matter. I'm usually very careful not to enter contests that are not based on skill, because I want to be judged on ability, not popularity.
Just as we were leaving the party to go back to the hotel, I got a massive headache. Great. No sexy time for me. So we're laying in bed, my head is killing me, and tears are streaming down my face, and I can't even tell him why. Thankfully, he's a patient guy and he just held me.
The next morning, I realized what had happened. I had no antidepressant on board, and it takes about two to three days for any changes to be noticeable, positive or negative. I still had a headache, but it was just kind of around the edges, not as bad as it had been. I was able to articulate to him what the problem was, and I got some gentle sexy time (which, if you know anything about me, is not my preferred "speed" ).
So I made stupid choices and got a stupid outcome. This was not my first rodeo, and I know better. I know I have to take care of myself. Uggghhhh.

I was sleeved August of last year at age 51. I'm almost 11 months out now, have gone from 403 pounds to 232 pounds, and I'm doing great. The only moment of doubt I had, that I can remember anyway, is waking up in the recovery room, hearing some beeotch moaning like crazy, wishing she would shut the f*** up, and then realizing it was ME! At that moment I thought, "oh my god, what have I done". Then the morphine kicked in and I was fine.
I can't think of any regrets I have, other than wishing I had done it 20 years earlier (but hey, our experiences make us who we are). That, and I'm not happy with my deflated "parts" but I plan on plastics in the next year or so. Last weekend I went to a pool party that became a "clothing optional" event after dark. Most of the people were skinny-dipping by that point, but I just couldn't do it, not with these saggy tatas. Sad because I would have done it at 400 pounds. I felt pretty good at achieving wearing a bathing suit because my saggy thighs were threatening to cause a tsunami.

I am in a long distance relationship. Someone said to me, "after you lose weight, are you going to meet someone local?"
::blinkblink::
Sure, because the reason I'm in a long-distance relationship is because I can't get a man that wants to see me more often since I'm so fat!

I was sleeved August of last year at age 51. I'm almost 11 months out now, have gone from 403 pounds to 232 pounds, and I'm doing great. The only moment of doubt I had, that I can remember anyway, is waking up in the recovery room, hearing some beeotch moaning like crazy, wishing she would shut the f*** up, and then realizing it was ME! At that moment I thought, "oh my god, what have I done". Then the morphine kicked in and I was fine.
I can't think of any regrets I have, other than wishing I had done it 20 years earlier (but hey, our experiences make us who we are). That, and I'm not happy with my deflated "parts" but I plan on plastics in the next year or so. Last weekend I went to a pool party that became a "clothing optional" event after dark. Most of the people were skinny-dipping by that point, but I just couldn't do it, not with these saggy tatas. Sad because I would have done it at 400 pounds. I felt pretty good at achieving wearing a bathing suit because my saggy thighs were threatening to cause a tsunami.

I was sleeved August of last year at age 51. I'm almost 11 months out now, have gone from 403 pounds to 232 pounds, and I'm doing great. The only moment of doubt I had, that I can remember anyway, is waking up in the recovery room, hearing some beeotch moaning like crazy, wishing she would shut the f*** up, and then realizing it was ME! At that moment I thought, "oh my god, what have I done". Then the morphine kicked in and I was fine.
I can't think of any regrets I have, other than wishing I had done it 20 years earlier (but hey, our experiences make us who we are). That, and I'm not happy with my deflated "parts" but I plan on plastics in the next year or so. Last weekend I went to a pool party that became a "clothing optional" event after dark. Most of the people were skinny-dipping by that point, but I just couldn't do it, not with these saggy tatas. Sad because I would have done it at 400 pounds. I felt pretty good at achieving wearing a bathing suit because my saggy thighs were threatening to cause a tsunami.

The bodice is far too big, and this was at the end of the night when my head was killing me. These views don't do justice to the outfit.

It's not a secret that I take an antidepressant. It took me a long time to be open about that, as my family are "just snap out of it" kind of people. My brain just doesn't handle serotonin well on its own. Without an antidepressant, everything and nothing makes me cry and I can't feel joy. With it, I feel and act, like a normal person (HEY! no comments from the peanut gallery!).
Last week at work was a week from hell. Patient almost dying in the parking lot, another patient having a psychotic break and calling constantly with delusions of grandeur and racing thoughts (and I got to take his calls), several interactions with the police regarding that same patient, dismissing two patients (one for combining alcohol with her meds on top of a positive drug test for pcp, another for increasing her meds on her own several times)... you name it, we went through it.
I take my medications (antidepressant and vitamins) after I get to work; it's part of my morning routine at the office. With all the chaos, I forgot to take them on Thursday. Then I forgot to take them on Friday. Then I went out of town on Saturday and forgot to take them.
Saturday I went to an adult, Disney-themed party. I went as Milady de Winter, the spy from The Three Musketeers that plots to kill the king of France (if you've seen Disney's version with Tim Curry, Kiefer Sutherland, Charlie Sheen, etc., it was the part played by Rebecca DeMornay). Years ago when I was doing Renaissance stuff, I made a beautiful Italian Renaissance green and gold gown, underdress, etc. So I wore that, and everything I was wearing I had made myself, with the exception of my shoes. Roughly half of the women at the party were wearing as little as possible. There was a costume contest, and I came in second, behind a girl dressed as Belle, in a very short dress with major cleavage. Think "adult Halloween costume" versus historically-accurate gown that you might see in a Renaissance painting.
It left me in tears, and it shouldn't have. It was clearly a cleavage contest, as a number of people expressed in surprise to me afterwards. I have no cleavage anymore. I used to fill out the bust of this dress and then some. I was able to tighten up the bodice a bit, but still no cleavage.
I couldn't believe how stupid I felt for being in tears over something like this. Something that doesn't matter. I'm usually very careful not to enter contests that are not based on skill, because I want to be judged on ability, not popularity.
Just as we were leaving the party to go back to the hotel, I got a massive headache. Great. No sexy time for me. So we're laying in bed, my head is killing me, and tears are streaming down my face, and I can't even tell him why. Thankfully, he's a patient guy and he just held me.
The next morning, I realized what had happened. I had no antidepressant on board, and it takes about two to three days for any changes to be noticeable, positive or negative. I still had a headache, but it was just kind of around the edges, not as bad as it had been. I was able to articulate to him what the problem was, and I got some gentle sexy time (which, if you know anything about me, is not my preferred "speed" ).
So I made stupid choices and got a stupid outcome. This was not my first rodeo, and I know better. I know I have to take care of myself. Uggghhhh.

The bodice is far too big, and this was at the end of the night when my head was killing me. These views don't do justice to the outfit.

I didn't go to Mexico, but my one year was yesterday.

If I got engaged to someone and he hadn't told me he had had such a life-changing surgery, I would re-evaluate whether I really knew him at all.

I'm 10 months post, my nsv, I have to say, is I'm off my depression meds. I catch myself singing, I thank God everyday for my life, this is the best decision I've ever made for me.
Sent from my XT1575 using the BariatricPal App

My surgery is the 29th and I've made enough changes pre op that as of this weekend I am completely off of my blood pressure meds.

I was sleeved August of last year at age 51. I'm almost 11 months out now, have gone from 403 pounds to 232 pounds, and I'm doing great. The only moment of doubt I had, that I can remember anyway, is waking up in the recovery room, hearing some beeotch moaning like crazy, wishing she would shut the f*** up, and then realizing it was ME! At that moment I thought, "oh my god, what have I done". Then the morphine kicked in and I was fine.
I can't think of any regrets I have, other than wishing I had done it 20 years earlier (but hey, our experiences make us who we are). That, and I'm not happy with my deflated "parts" but I plan on plastics in the next year or so. Last weekend I went to a pool party that became a "clothing optional" event after dark. Most of the people were skinny-dipping by that point, but I just couldn't do it, not with these saggy tatas. Sad because I would have done it at 400 pounds. I felt pretty good at achieving wearing a bathing suit because my saggy thighs were threatening to cause a tsunami.

I didn't go to Mexico, but my one year was yesterday.

Good for you!!!! I'm 4 months post surgery and lost 53 lbs so far. Size 22 to a 16. I'm very happy.
Sent from my iPhone using the BariatricPal App

August 8, 2015, surgery day. 403 pounds.
July 8, 2016, eleven months. 229 pounds.
Wow. Just. WOW. I truly thought I would fail. Never thought I would see size 18 again.
WOW!