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voiceomt2002
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Blog Entries posted by voiceomt2002
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I found this great recipe among all my grandmother's diabetic cookbooks. I altered it by using SF Jell-o and Cool Whip Free, but it works just the same. Tomorrow, I'll post variations. This is so versatile, I had to share.
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Wow, has it really been eight months since I last posted here? So much has changed since then...
On December 12, 2010, my DH and I went to the storage shed out back and pulled out the holiday lights to decorate the house. Unknown to us, a certain mold entered my DH's lungs because he was a lifelong smoker. Aspergillosis has a 95% mortality rate. It took my poor darling until January 2, 2011 to die in ICU. Thanks to the outpouring of love and support from my family and friends, I was able to not only pay for his funeral but also live until I could find work.
In late January, I went to see my primary care doctor to ask for anti-depressants. Before my banding, I'd been on the same prescription, so I figured this would be a quick visit. It would not be. The physician's assistant asked me if I'd ever considered suicide. I answered yes, because before my banding I had. Then she asked if I knew what method I'd choose if I did. I answered yes again because I'm a writer, and we research everything. I didn't know it at that moment, but I'd sealed my fate. I found myself incarcerated in a mental ward for 72 hours observation. Here in Florida, it's called "being Baker Acted." Have you ever been locked up in a psych ward when you're not in need of it? By the end of the three days, you'll need to be there. They nearly broke me, and I don't mind admitting it. If it hadn't been for the visits of a dear family friend named David, it's quite possible they might have succeeded.
One of the reasons I'd been depressed was my difficulty in finding a job. I've been a housewife for a long time. Finally, I got the call. On what would have been our 30th anniversary, I entered training to become a customer service representative.
To celebrate my return to the work force, David asked to take me to a local Medieval Faire. I happily accepted. When I admired a pearl ring, he bought it and slipped it on my finger. He said, "I know it's rude, but I can't wait any longer. Lena, I've loved you from afar for twenty years, but I didn't want to disturb your happy marriage. I know it's too soon to answer, but will you consider marrying me in a year or two, when you're ready?"
I have agreed to think about it, and I'll give him an answer next New Year's Eve.
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On Monday (March 9, '09) I went back to Dr. Baptista and had my first fill, because last time I didn't need one.
This time I did. I'd only lost 5 pounds, and that annoyed the heck out of me. I was glad doc gave me 4cc's, though I wasn't sure that would be enough.
I realize my viewpoint might be a bit skewed, though. Someone so desperate to lose weight permanently as to have surgery might not be too objective. :ohmy: I wouldn't be happy unless I was throwing up everything but liquids, then went back and had doc remove 1cc. Yeah, that's a little extreme.
Still, I waited until today to assess how the fill has helped me. Scale Whore that I am, I still checked every morning, but today I saw the number drop to below where it had been for two weeks. It hovered right between 242 and 243, so I'll wait to adjust my ticker until I'm sure. I'd like to be below 240 by the end of March, and down by ten pound increments each month. That's possible without being extreme. I hope.
I'm trying desperately not to set myself up for failure by making my expectations too high or unreasonable. Ten pounds a month seems like a goal that requires a bit of effort but is still within reach.
What do you think?
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This morning, DH drove off to his new job. It's been a long, horrible six months of unemployment. We haven't lost the house yet, and if the promises are even close to accurate, we won't.
Ironically, we don't want to celebrate. While not trying to sound pessimistic, this is still technically a temporary job. DH must prove himself. I know he can do the job, and he knows what's at stake.
Meanwhile, I have a novel to finish and a guild meeting to attend. Now to find some clothes that don't fall off my body! LOL!
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Victory shall be mine!
I’m doing the happy dance! After weeks of no weight loss results because my willpower was weaker than a kitten, I finally had a temper tantrum. I was tired of being sabotaged by my darlings, who do not have to watch their carbs. While Randy is thin as a rake and Dante not so thin, both have the right to eat as they please.
Before my tantrum, they’d eat their carb-loaded goodies right in front of me, leave the food out where I had to look at it, desire it, and eventually snitch some of it. Worse, they’d actually encourage me to cheat by offering to share or whining when I made healthy meals.
I absolutely must shrink my liver. If I don’t shrink the liver, the surgery must be cancelled. Therefore, it’s imperative that my weak willpower must be shored up with something.
Finally, I had a breakthrough and a tantrum. After I “explained” to Randy how he and Dante were unconsciously sabotaging my diet, he worked with me to create “contraband storage.” The gray pantry and the big black refrigerator out in the Florida Room now have sturdy locks on them, and that’s where all the contraband goes.
What I can have now stays conveniently in the pantry and fridge here in the house, where I can make the easier choice to eat healthy while not denying the boys their right to the snacks they want.
It seems to be working! For the past two days, when I got hungry I went to the pantry and saw only what I was allowed to have. My choices were simplified with no temptations to make me stray.
Then yesterday I stepped on the scale at my doctor’s office. I’ve lost FIVE pounds! Okay, so it’s not the 8-10 pounds a month I could lose. I’m happy. Any weight loss counts as liver shrinkage.
Next week is the second of the three doctor visits allowed by my insurance. After I “see” (hah!) him in a group session, the next time must be my pre-op. Am I finished jumping through hoops? No. I’m not that stupid.
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Once there was a woman named Alice who fell down a spiraling hole of guilt and shame while following an elusive White Rabbit of Beauty. She discovered a magical place called One-der-land, though at first it seemed a place of madness and horror. I'll occasionally recount (not in chronological order because this is a place of madness, after all, at least to Alice) some of her adventures.
Alice landed at the bottom of the Shame Spiral in tears, her body shattered by so many years of abuse, both from within Alice herself and from others, who felt she didn't deserve anything. She wondered if she'd ever be able to get up, but she managed to heave herself erect and walk, still hoping for another glimpse of the beautiful White Rabbit. Alice had to rest often, and had trouble breathing, but the path seemed familiar somehow, as if she'd traveled upon it or at least seen it many times. Her feet swelled, her knees hurt, and upon occasion she considered just lying down at the side of the path and becoming another one of the many grave markers just visible through the thorny bushes. Still, something inside her refused to allow her to give up. She had to keep fighting.
Finally, an angel in a white coat smiled at her. "You've been approved. Step forward. Your new journey can begin. At the end of your time here, you will see the White Rabbit if you are patient and work hard."
In a clearing sat a man wearing another white coat, but this man was unlike any other she'd ever seen. In his own charming way, he was handsome, and his eyes were kind. He invited her to sit and rest at his table, where a fascinating array of things were laid out. Some were gruesome body parts in frames or on pedestals. Some were the familiar diet protein shakes she'd starved herself with many times. Other things were not easy to describe and made no sense.
Her handsome new friend tried desperately to make himself understood. Alice leaned forward, for he seemed so earnestly trying to explain something important, but though he spoke English soon his words were gibberish, and Alice knew in her heart it was her fault she couldn't understand him anymore.
What she had understood was that he would help her, if she would obey the rules of One-der-land. He'd given her a few, and told her she must discover the rest for herself. All would be revealed to her slowly, allowing her to adjust to this new and frightening world. Then the man vanished, and Alice was left alone wondering what to do next.
A cheerful fairy peeked in. Her bright eyes and sleek figure made Alice very envious, but she was so sweet and charming, Alice couldn't stay angry with her for long. The fairy danced up to Alice. "Hi! My name is Locarb! I just know we're going to be friends!"
Now Alice was very suspicious. She'd heard of Locarb fairies, and they could be very vicious, even expensive, to keep as friends. Alice narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to make me buy ridiculously expensive things I don't know how to use, limit me, and put me in a very narrow box?"
Locarb's laugh was the tinkle of bells! "No, no! That's what happens when YOU limit ME!" The fairy reached into her basket and pulled out a white mound of something creamy, covered in a brightly colored sauce, served in a small bowl. "Here, I'll prove myself. This treat is for you. This magical treat will keep you from being naughty and disobeying the Lord and Master, whom you just met. You may only have this once a day, so choose wisely when you have it."
Alice looked longingly at the white creamy stuff, served so very prettily. It looked like the evil poisons that had made her addicted and ill. Her body craved those poisons like an alcoholic craved liquor, and so she feared them all. She sniffed it cautiously. "I smell raspberries...and cream."
Locarb nodded, her cute blonde curls bobbing. "Yes. I assure you, you can have this. I'll allow you to have this early today, just to show my good intentions."
Her fingers shook, but Alice licked her lips and took a tiny taste. Raspberry and something like cheesecake exploded on her tongue and slid down her throat like ambrosia from the gods. Alice's eyes filled with tears. She put the spoon back in the bowl and pushed it all aside. She sobbed. "I can't have things like this! They're poisoning me. Please, take it away before I gulp it all down! I'm already sick from things like this. It's too delicious and wonderful for evil creatures like me."
The fairy picked up the spoon and put it back in Alice's hand. "Yes, you can have it. Trust me. It's expensive in calories, but there are only 8 carbs in this treat, and it will keep you from wanting the poisons you have been eating. Now, enjoy your treat. I will help you, if you let me."
"Okay, but it's your fault if I get fatter." Alice sniffled, and ate all the contents of the bowl slowly, savoring every drop. When she went too fast, the fairy tugged at her hand until she slowed down. Finally, the bowl was empty. Alice waited for the horrible sugar rush that temporarily gave her energy, then sent her crashing to the earth with less than she'd had before. The rush never came. In fact, she felt...good. "Oh my! What was that?"
Locarb leaned close. "The legend of no desserts in One-der-land is false, and always has been. However, like all treasures, it must be sought and enjoyed wisely. This is your first weapon in the war against the addiction that has poisoned you all your life." She pressed a small piece of paper in Alice's hand. "Use it wisely and well, or it will do you no good!"
Locarb's Creamy Treat
2 servings 400 calories/ 8 carbs
1 block of cream cheese
2 T. Splenda
2 T. milk, cream, or half-n-half
2 T. any sugar-free syrup such as Torani or daVinci (see links) per serving
Open the cream cheese package and drop the cream cheese into the bowl of your food processor. Add the Splenda and cream. Whirl, using a spatula at least once to get the creamy mix off the sides of the bowl if necessary, until the substance is light and fluffy. Place in a small sherbet bowl. Pour sugar-free syrup over each serving, as desired. Eat slowly.
Copyright: Lena Austin 2010 Do not distribute without direct written permission from the author.
::NOTE-- the opinions and ideas expressed in this blog are my own, and opinions are like anuses. We all have them and they all stink. Except mine, which smells like roses.
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Wow, am I impressed with this one. Doc and I finally achieved an understanding on the subjects of meats. I've been having trouble with meats being too dry, and yet Doc wanted me to eat lots of meat to stay low carb. Can you say conflict? Well, crock pot and pressure cooker meals are the answer.
This particular recipe was fast, easy, inexpensive, and relatively low carb. The meat was so tender, it was almost a mushie recipe. If you're not a spicy food lover, eliminate the chili peppers and use a few shakes of red pepper flakes to give it heat without burning your mouth. While I love "Dragon's Breath Chili" and other hot foods, DH and Dante can't take the heat. So, I use Tabasco on my portions.
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Today is a milestone day on my little lap band journey. I'm now allowed regular liquids including meal replacement shakes instead of only clear liquids like broths. That's a biggie for me. I made the mistake of gulping a slug of my hot tea on Saturday evening, and paid in discomfort for a half hour thereafter, so I'm starting slowly with a cup of coffee in a Sippy cup.
Yes, I typed "a Sippy cup." You see, learning to eat in very tiny amounts requires some re-education. Besides learning not to take big mouthfuls of hot tea (or coffee, for that matter), I have to learn to sip delicately like a lady. Go ahead and laugh. I did. Me? Okay, so pain can teach an old dog new tricks.
However the Sippy cup resembles a sparkly purple travel coffee mug, I know what it is. My adult dignity is slightly offended by this ten-ounce cure to greedy gulping. I took out the plastic insert, but it still gives me some much-needed control over what flows into my mouth. I need it, but I want something that doesn't offend my dignity quite so much.
So, I rummaged in my china hutches until I found my great-grandmother's tiny delicate bowls and plates. Just using these bone china items gives me the willies and inspires caution. You definitely don't gouge out a scoop of even Jell-o from that fragile bowl.
Since my new stomach pouch will hold less than three ounces, I'm definitely going to learn portion control in a hurry. I don't want to waste food, but I think 1/2 cup of oatmeal will fill that teeny bowl to the brim and be much more than I can eat at a sitting. Amazing.
I'm now looking at food completely differently now. It's more "You want me to eat THAT MUCH? Uh, no!" than "Yuk! That looks disgusting." Pizza, burgers, and sweets still look and smell appetizing. I just know better than to think about having more than a taste. That's it. Less than a mouthful, thanks, or I'll be in agony later when that bread, rice, or potato plugs up my stomach like a cork in a bottle and sends me to the ER. How about I settle for a slice of pepperoni to nibble on, thanks. You have the rest with my blessing. Please feel free.
I certainly feel free. I'm not limited except by good sense and my own free will. I chose this path. I like the way I will live for the rest of my life. I don't need breads, cakes, pastas, nuts, and rice to be happy. I'll roll up my ham slice in a piece of romaine lettuce and have an excellent "sandwich" on a picnic this summer. Next year at Thanksgiving, I'll enjoy a bit of turkey, veggies, and maybe a spoonful of the pumpkin pie filling. (I'll give my crust to my grateful dog, who is joyously happy to clean my plate of scraps.) I'll smile in triumph while DH and Dante make pigs of themselves on the stuffing, gravy, and dinner rolls because I made those things for them to enjoy. I get more satisfaction out of watching them enjoy than I do being fat.
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After spending four days in the hospital for a false alarm "heart attack" I had to go visit my PCP yesterday.
(sigh) We both agree it's clear that losing fifty pounds, attaining normal cholesterol and blood sugar, and exercising three times a week doesn't guarantee good health. However, it does give you a fighting chance. I'll take that positive.
The old specter of my many years of GERD has possibly come back to haunt me. I may have something like Barret's esophagus or (forgive me for not remembering the term well) hammered esophagus. (sigh) To rule out nastier problems, I'll go back under anesthesia for an upper endoscopy and a colonoscopy. Lovely!
The way I figure it, I'll be asleep. What the heck, I refuse to worry too much about it. After all, I like anesthesia. Best sleep of my life, and as a bonus, they'll take me off Coumadin for a couple days. Even better.
There's enough on my "worry list" right now anyway.
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I sew. I sew a lot. Not only do I make my own clothes, I make teddy bears, quilts, costumes, and occasionally the odd decorating item. Yes, I'm one of those annoyingly creative people who have to decorate anything that holds still long enough.
A few months ago, I made myself a beautiful white jacket out of silk brocade covered in white-on-white phoenixes. I loved that jacket, but had to put it away when cold weather struck.
This morning, I needed to make some decisions on what to wear for a trip to visit my mother in St. Augustine. Mom, who is a blonde size 6 soaking wet, dresses to kill and doesn't look her age in the slightest. She also hasn't seen me since the day of my surgery. If you've seen my "before pictures" here, you know we don't look a thing alike. Needless to say, my feminine sense of competitiveness makes me want to dress up as best I can when I go shopping with Mom, especially since she prefers some pretty exclusive little establishments.
Anyway, I pulled out that gorgeous jacket and decided to try on a pair of black jeans and black silk shirt I've not worn in years because I couldn't stuff my fat body into them. The jeans not only slid on, the shirt was too big! I screeched and ran out to show my roomie, a gay man named Dante. The jeans were loose and almost baggy, and Dante rejected the shirt. "Honey, you look like you're a little girl trying to wear Mommy's clothes. Do I need to take you shopping?" (giggle)
I'm still wearing the outfit on Saturday if Mom's free to go out, but I think my proud grin will outshine whatever Mom wears. Guess I'll take in the shirt, though. Good thing I know how to sew.
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Julie.Ann and several others told me about online food journals like sparkpeople.com, thedailyplate.com and fitday.com.
I've been keeping a print food journal for over two years, but the ink and paper costs were eating me alive, to be honest.
Finally, I looked at the three I mentioned and decided on fitday.com. That's a personal choice! I don't advocate any one brand. However, I'm now totally converted to online food journals after just three days.
At first, I was frustrated by searching for my specific food I'd injested, especially when it came to recipes. Finally, I started using the Custom Food option when I couldn't find what I needed or wanted to use a recipe's nutrition info. Whew! Much better.
Funny thing is, I'm staying on my diet better now. Maybe it's that whole "I know nothing on the net is truly private" paranoia, but I'll take what works. I never fudged on calories or carbs in my journal, but this way ensures a certain level of honesty.
Today, I'll probably break my diet --again. This time, in a good cause. I'm driving down to St. Augustine to visit my Mom. Mom's a underweight very eccentric retired artist. (Yes, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in the creativity department. She painted with color and glass, I paint with words.) I'd better take notes of what I eat. Better put a notepad in my purse.
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I'm really getting annoyed now. I've tried my favorite pink pill (crushed) and even went out at 7 AM today to buy Ex-Lax. I still haven't gone, and it's been three whole days. :thumbup:
This is getting ridiculous and dangerous. Guess I'm going to have to get medieval on my body and...Yes...do an enema if things don't improve tomorrow.
Doc warned me this might happen. It's a combination of the low-carb diet and the fact that I have a band. Means I don't get enough fiber. Maybe Metamucil?
Lena
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Less than one week until my lap band surgery and ol’ Nervous Nellie Lena can’t sleep. The reasons are partially fear and partially excitement. Last Friday, the day after Christmas began The Week Before Surgery on doc’s handouts, where certain dietary restrictions must be rigidly followed. This will last until this coming Wednesday, when I begin the pre-surgical “you can’t have anything solid” diet. I’m drinking my last caffeinated coffee right now, mainly because I forgot about that restriction.
Actually, Wednesday begins the three days of hell where I have morning shots of either Lovonox or Heparin as my substitute blood thinners. (gulp) For a needle phobic like me, this is enough to cause nightmares and insomnia all by itself. People, meaning to reassure me and not understanding they’re simply adding to my stress, tell me it’s subcutaneous injections in my belly and the needle is very tiny, even finer than what I might have if my weight had caused diabetes like the rest of the family. Thanks, guys. Now I have a very clear picture for my nightmares.
Strangely enough, I’m not scared of anything else. When I saw my favorite of the two surgeons on Monday the 22nd, he took extra time to reassure me and work out how we’d get around my well-documented “hard stick” problem.
Before we go on, let me explain the “hard stick.” Don’t bother stopping me if you’ve heard this before. It bears repeating. The record on getting an IV established in me remains at an all time high of 21, and last time OPMC managed to almost break that record at 17 sticks before they finally managed to get any vein at all. When I say I’m a hard stick, I mean I’m an impossible stick.
Medical persons have a hard time grasping this concept until they’ve spent hours traumatizing me and they finally must humbly admit defeat to the quivering and mindless wreck that was me. (And they wonder why I’m violently and insanely needle phobic and have the nerve to tell me I need a shrink?)
I no longer believe any medical person who confidently approaches with a look of determination, declaring they’re “the best with X number of years experience” at getting the job done. I’ve humbled “the best” at six different hospitals, honey. I’m not impressed.
Anyway, once I told the doc this, his big brown eyes got the size of saucers. I’ll give this one major points for at least acting like he cared, a distinct improvement over his partner. (See my blog entry, “Is Humiliation Part of the Treatment?” for more details.)
Doc Baptista listened, thought carefully about my suggestions of drugging me to my eyeballs on Valium, pouring me onto the gurney, and establishing a PIC line. He offered an alternative. He calls a PIC line “lazy” medical care. (Uh…hey, it works, doesn’t it?) He wanted me conscious when I was wheeled into surgery. (Privately between you and I and the whole darn internet, it would be best if I could aid in the transfer of my heavy body onto the operating table rather than give several nurses and orderlies hernias. I can understand that.)
No matter what, upon arrival I’ll receive that last subcutaneous injection of heparin. If I can tolerate that and remain conscious, they’ll wheel me into surgery without starting an IV immediately. Once I’m on the table, the anesthesiologist will give me nitrous oxide until I’m so happy I’m only semi-conscious at best, then they’ll establish a central line in my neck with a port so they can get blood for the lab rats who enjoy waking you up every few hours for blood tests.
Doc then explained that with a PIC line he’d have to have me admitted one day early on New Year’s Day so there’d be an experienced person to establish the PIC line, then I’d have to fidget overnight in a lonely hospital bed at the mercy of the lab rats until the next morning for surgery, and we’d be risking infection because of the PIC line. (He had me at lab rats, okay?) I agreed.
Doc also moved my surgery hour back on Position #2 instead of #1 on that day. That’ll allow me time to drive across town to the hospital, give the guys time to convince the fearfully shaking wreck that is normally Lena to get out of the car (wry grin), and give the staff time to prep me. If they come at me with an IV needle, doc had better be prepared for the screaming about betrayal. Yes, it’s happened before where a doc’s promises meant nothing. The trust most people feel for medical persons and the belief they actually care about the welfare of the individual patient was shattered long ago. Granted, there may be a few sterling individuals who still care, but I think they're rarer than hen's teeth.
Right now I’m taking everything day by day. I made it through Christmas Day without the usual gorge on sweets, but I still ate way more than the 30g of carbs I’m allowed. At least in my mind, I broke my diet with meat and veggies, not pies and cakes. Maybe that counts for something. Doesn’t matter. The past is in the past and cannot be altered. I can only change today. I’m back on the diet and behaving. I’ve lost officially 11 pounds, and I hope to make it more by next Friday. :embaressed_smile:
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We all do it. However, for a bandster, the results can be very uncomfortable.
The reason it can be difficult to eat healthily is that "hidden persuaders" can lead you into bad eating habits, says new research. Try these tips to avoid mindless eating:
Be aware of the size and shape of containers. It's the amount of food that counts, not what it looks like.
Use smaller plates and bowls. Empty plates and bowls, even those of a smaller size, cue some people to stop eating.
Read nutrition labels, paying attention to the serving size listed. Consider the facts; don't guess at how many calories you're eating.
Look past the packaging. The wording on a food's package or the language on a menu can influence you to actually like a food better, increasing your risk of overeating.
Keep visual reminders of how much you're eating. Keep wrappers, empty containers, bones, and other reminders of how much you've eaten nearby.
Think about eating a meal that's healthier overall. Don't just focus on separate parts of the meal.
Control your impulse purchases. Don't let signs encourage you to buy more than you need.
For us, it's more than just gained pounds. My DH hates sitting at the table to eat meals. Worse, he pouts and grumbles when I sit at the table, even though we have a relatively open concept home where we are still technically in the same room.
I've been reading the labels as far as serving sizes, and actually measuring out the portions of the snacks. Y'know, it isn't worth it. When you measure out the teensy number of ounces of pretzels and look at the carbs, it's just not worth eating them! Now, by the time I've chowed down on some cheese or a crudite tray, I'm not only full, I'm guilt-free!
Funniest thing of all, I no longer mindlessly shop, either. We're still laughing over the fact that some so-called "diet" foods provide no benefit whatsoever (okay, so 20 calories lower. Yay. Wow. I'm so not thrilled) for half again the cost? Uh, NO!
I thought I'd freeze to death reading all the labels in the grocery freezer section, trying to find out which so-called "diet" whipped topping actually was the most beneficial, but now I know. With the correct serving size, I now enjoy a little dessert guilt-free.
We're still laughing. And we're saving a ton of money by not buying the methyl-enthyl-bad-stuff with ingredients I can't pronounce, much less spell. All in the name of "diet." Goodbye, diet. Hello, Thinking.
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I may have posted this before. If I haven't, I'm sorry. This may be the ultimate bandster food-- ground meat, cheese, and tasty enough to keep feelings of deprivation as a distant memory. Now, I have to admit I've skipped buying different kinds of ground meat and stuck to 2 lbs of ground beef. Sorry, it's cheap!
Also, to "dice" the bacon, I cheat and use my kitchen shears. Someone told me to only partially defrost the bacon and chop it then, but I'm not too bright in the morning and handing me a sharp object before noon isn't wise. LOL! Enjoy!
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This recipe originated at SavingDinner.com. However, I had to alter some portions of it to make it reasonable for bandsters. I personally encourage the use of the Body Clutter Menus from SavingDinner.com. With minor alterations, most can be used by bandsters.
Bandster Slow Poke Jambalaya
Serves 6 (If they eat tiny portions. For hungry adults, double this recipe)
1 cup chopped green bell pepper
1 cup chopped onion
1-1/2 cups chopped fresh tomato
1 cup chopped celery (or if your band won't take celery, substitute a teaspoon of celery salt)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 T. dried parsley or 2 T. fresh parsley, chopped fine
1 tsp. Dried thyme
1 tsp. Oregano
1/8 tsp. Cayenne pepper (Note: We like it hotter, so we added 1 tsp. Toni Chachere's creole seasoning)
½ tsp. Salt (omit if you used the celery salt)
4 oz. Smoked sausage, cut into 1-inch pieces
8 oz. Boneless skinless chicken breast, cut into 1-inch pieces (we used 4 pieces of skinned chicken thigh because we didn't have chicken breasts and thighs are cheaper)
2 cups low sodium beef broth (or homemade, as we did)
½ lb. Cooked shrimp, peeled and deveined. (DH recommends getting the kind with tails off, but that's up to you. The tails do add flavor, believe it or not, so they're worth the extra trouble)
Separate: 1 cup cooked brown rice
In a slow cooker, combine all ingredients except the shrimp and rice. Give it a stir, cover, and cook on low at least 6 hours. Add shrimp and cook for another 20-30 minutes. For non-bandsters, a bit of rice in the bowl, then pour their serving over the top. Bandsters don't get rice.
These nutritional values are for a serving with rice:
232 calories
7 g. fat
25g Protein
16g carbohydrates
3g dietary fiber
93 mg cholesterol
474mg sodium
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http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BariatricRecipes
The owner warned me by email that the site gets about 50 emails per day on a weekend, and advises you use Digest format.
I've already received recipes in my Inbox, but I'm wading through a pile of email. I'll share if I find some good ones.
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As promised, here are some of the variations. There are more! Wait until you see the delicious mushies I found! I'm so excited! Even though I'm on solids, I remember how difficult it got eating only mushies and "clear liquids." These help!
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So far we've played with the chicken. Now let's do the same with beef. However, this time we're going to play a trick on the grocery store.
You see, all those times you bought beef stew meat, you've been getting the trimmings from the guys back in the back packaging up meat for sale. These trimmings are often the tough and full of gristle parts from other cuts. I call that stuff "butcher's garbage." It's not good for our delicate tummies.
Incidentally, note the price per pound of that stew meat. Now look at the price per pound of chuck roast and other roasts. At my grocer, a chuck roast is cheaper!
We're going to buy a whole chuck roast and partially freeze it until it's stiff, but not frozen solid. (If you have an electric knife, use it and save yourself some aggravation.) Now cut the roast into small cubes. Remember, it'll shrink a little, so you don't have to do toddler sized bits, just smaller chunks than "butcher's garbage."
If you like your beef broth really rich, buy a couple of oxtails. Yeah, I know! Gross, right? Wait until you taste the broth. Oxtails can be had for a buck or two, and they can add flavor like you've never had to a broth. Try it! I always try to snatch a few up when they appear in the meat section and freeze those buggers until I need to make more broth, just because of their delicious flavor, not to mention the superiority of the collagen they bring to the broth. (You don't have to try to break those bones to see if it's done. Just drop them in the pot and cook the devil out of them, okay?)
Now for the recipe:
I'll be honest. I never bother to clarify the broth. Call me lazy. My DH doesn't notice or care.
This is the basis for all my recipes calling for beef broth. This I store in the freezer in one cup increments.
I had to make a batch of this while I was still on the liquid stage of my post-op. My mouth watered while I smelled this all day, simmering on my stovetop. When the time came to strain it, I snatched a mug full as my lunch, and I nearly fainted at the pure pleasure. It sure beat bouillion by a mile!
Needless to say, I made another batch the next day just for the remainder of my liquid diets stage and turned my freckled nose at those icky bouillion cubes! LOL!
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I got the job!!
I sailed in earlier, lugging my demo stuff (without sweating like a pig, I might add), gave a clear example of some of my skills, smiled when she complimented my lovely (and three sizes smaller) outfit, and proposed new classes to the Education Manager. Her jaw hit the floor at the sheer number of things I can do, and when I proved I could even handle teen projects called Urban Threads, she was thrilled. I was hired on the spot.
My first demonstration of Punch Needle Embroidery is this coming Saturday, with a small side of Wood Burning Plaques for fun. One plaque of a Chinese Junk is done. One adorable punched Teddy Bear tote originally made for my grandson is done, and the punched butterfly for my granddaughter could be done tomorrow. Those will go on display to show what the class teaches. I'll just demonstrate Punch Needle Embroidery for three hours and take names of those interested in taking the class.
What's even the best part is I'm not technically a JoAnn Fabrics employee, so I can wear my beautifully crafted and embroidered clothes to show off not only my skills to entice students, but also my new figure! I'm a sub-contractor, and I'm used to that particular business structure and tax system. Hehehe!! This is going to be such fun!
Thanks for the encouragement, BG!
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I have a blog I dedicated to my journey toward the weight loss surgery on blogspot called Fat Frog Diary but this one will no doubt be more honest, in a weird sort of way.
That's the problem with my job as a published author. My fans expect me to be witty and confident all the time. Never mind that I'm human and have fears, pains, and illnesses. Somehow, Lena Austin the writer must transcend all that. :angry_smile:
The image I chose for my profile is what I looked like when I was near my goal weight when I was in my early 30's. I want to look similar to that again, even if my hair is now short and graying. Miss Clairol and I have been old friends, so that can be solved. :cursing:
Where am I in this journey? Somewhere between the circus poodle still jumping through hoops (Arf!) and the dysfunctional machine laying on the gurney for repairs.
I saw the shrink yesterday. Nice woman. That marks the end of my visiting specialists. My appointment with the surgeon for a group session is next week. If I understand the process (doubtful) then they'll submit the packet detailing how my weight affects my health for final approval from my insurance. This will be the third approval from the insurance. I have visions of some bean counter at the insurance office typing up a fax saying, "Yes, I'm sure!! Geez, you're worse than my computer!"
Just like HysterSisters, everyone tells me the waiting is the worst part. I don't think it's the waiting so much as the long time span from decision to doing it.
This is especially true since I learned how few daily carbs I was allowed, and that I needed to start that diet immediately. The fact that it would be a minimum of three months before I saw the inside of the hospital made no sense to me.
I want to grab someone by the collar and say, "Look! I have family members who do not need to reduce their livers and they are complaining bitterly over the sudden lack of breads, rices, and pastas they need for their physically demanding lives. Unless you're willing to contribute to my budget so I can cook two meals for dinner, we have a conflict."
Take this month, November. Please, take this month, and while you're at it take December too. You see, not only do I have the diet minefield of the holidays, but also a slew of family birthdays. All of these family members want cake and ice cream for their celebrations. (sigh) Try telling your mother "No" when she asks you to make use of that cake decorating class you took to create her the spectacular birthday cake she rarely gets because she was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas Eve.
I'm doomed.
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This looks like dessert to me! I haven't got any granola bars, but I'll be a sprinkle of nuts would work with less carbs.
Pumpkin & Granola Parfait
1 serving View Nutrition Facts
Ingredients
1 container (6-ounces) plain low-fat yogurt
2 teaspoons honey (I subbed Splenda)
1/4 teaspoon pumpkin-pie spice
1 whole-grain crunchy granola bar, crumbled
1/2 cup canned pumpkin
Directions
Mix together yogurt, honey and pumpkin-pie spice.
In a bowl, layer yogurt mixture, granola-bar crumbs and pumpkin.
Delicious! This isn't cheating! Woohoo! Okay, be reasonable! 1/2 cup is plenty
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California Vegetable Cheese Bake (3 Points)
4 cups frozen carrot, broccoli & cauliflower blend, thawed
1/2 cup finely chopped onion (can use frozen chopped onion)
1 (10-3/4 oz) can Healthy Request Cream of Mushroom Soup
1/4 cup (one 2-ounce jar) chopped pimiento, drained
1-1/2 cups cubed Velveeta Light processed cheese
Spray slow cooker container with butter-flavored cooking spray. In prepared container, combine thawed vegetables & onion. Add mushroom soup, pimiento & cheese. Mix well to combine. Cover & cook on LOW for 4 to 6 hours. Mix well before serving.
140 calories, 3 gm fiber, 4 gm fat 13 gm protein, 13 gm carbohydrate, 236 mg sodium, 373 mg calcium (3 points per 2/3 cup serving)
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Because I'm allergic to nuts, I substituted water chestnuts. It worked very well.
New bandsters-- be very careful. I had problems with chicken every time it was overdone and stringy.
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I don't know about you, but Tomato Soup is one of my comfort foods. This recipe allows me to still have it and lose weight.
I'm way too lazy to peel my own tomatoes, but it's nice to know I could. I'll also use my food processor. I know very few people besides Ina Garten who own and use a food mill.
While I've not tried to do it yet, I may even attempt making this into a Cream of Tomato Soup by adding in a cup of cream just before serving.
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