voiceomt2002

LOL!! Darn tootin' BG! See you at your new blog! BTW, mine is Fat Frog Diary. Now that you've moved, I'll post there more regularly.

As anyone in our sisterhood of Scale Whores Anonymous (SWA) knows, I'm the nut case who keeps track of her weight by writing it down on the bathroom mirror with a wipe-off board pen. I have an antiquated bathroom scale that looks like it belongs in the Art Deco Revival era several decades ago, and I love it because of that beauty. I know it's not accurate, but I step on it anyway every day. (That's why there's an SWA-- we're compulsive about it.) Last month, just before Christmas, when I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office, I got a nasty shock. Despite repeated attempts to be very good, I'd *gained* a pound. EEEK! So, I was determined to get back on the wagon. I pulled out the old food journal and locked all the carb contraband out in the cabinet outside. My scale said I lost. At one point it dipped down to 205 lbs, and my shriek of joy should have shattered the bathroom window. (Thank you, tempered glass.) Still, I drove with butterflies in my stomach to the doctor's for my monthly weigh-in. Would his infinitely more accurate scales show how hard I'd been working? When my turn finally came, I stepped on the scale. The nurse gasped. My heart sank. I was doomed. Done in by that tangerine I had a week ago. *sob* One little cheat had cost me. "OMG, Lena!! You've lost TEN pounds!" The nurse did a jig with me. Later, doc gave me a hug. I'm back on the road to One-der-Land, and I think I see it rising out of the mists in the distance. :thumbup:

As anyone in our sisterhood of Scale Whores Anonymous (SWA) knows, I'm the nut case who keeps track of her weight by writing it down on the bathroom mirror with a wipe-off board pen. I have an antiquated bathroom scale that looks like it belongs in the Art Deco Revival era several decades ago, and I love it because of that beauty. I know it's not accurate, but I step on it anyway every day. (That's why there's an SWA-- we're compulsive about it.) Last month, just before Christmas, when I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office, I got a nasty shock. Despite repeated attempts to be very good, I'd *gained* a pound. EEEK! So, I was determined to get back on the wagon. I pulled out the old food journal and locked all the carb contraband out in the cabinet outside. My scale said I lost. At one point it dipped down to 205 lbs, and my shriek of joy should have shattered the bathroom window. (Thank you, tempered glass.) Still, I drove with butterflies in my stomach to the doctor's for my monthly weigh-in. Would his infinitely more accurate scales show how hard I'd been working? When my turn finally came, I stepped on the scale. The nurse gasped. My heart sank. I was doomed. Done in by that tangerine I had a week ago. *sob* One little cheat had cost me.:thumbdown: "OMG, Lena!! You've lost TEN pounds!" The nurse did a jig with me. :thumbup: Later, doc gave me a hug. I'm back on the road to One-der-Land, and I think I see it rising out of the mists in the distance.

My bandiversary was January 2. One year, 75 lbs lighter. I'm no longer a size 26, but a svelte (for me) size 18. According to my doctor, I have another 50-70 lbs left to go. Is he insane? Okay, I'll play along. After all, he's not been wrong yet. Funny thing is, I'm still a size 26 in my head. I still slink through the lingerie section, expecting to be chased out by the sales clerks and sent to Lane Bryant. I'm still shocked when some man ignores my wedding ring and (gasp) flirts with me. On the other hand, I'm doing things that just wouldn't have been possible a year ago. I exercise three times a week and think it's fun. I bowl with my family, and we're talking about hitting the beach when the weather warms. My husband wants to go on a second honeymoon (technically it would be a first. We were too poor back then) and scuba in Bermuda, and I actually think that's a great idea. I proposed taking up water-skiing too. I fix my hair and put on makeup, and I smile at the woman in the mirror, even if I hardly recognize her without the bags under her eyes from sleep apnea, the puffy cheeks, and triple chin. Who is that woman with high slashing cheekbones, full red lips and smoky eyes? Me? Are you sure? Where's the dumpy old broad who spent half her life in a wheelchair or leaning on a cane? I'm learning to see myself as a thinner, healthier person. I guess it's just going to take more time. Funny thing is, I now have that time. :confused:

My bandiversary was January 2. One year, 75 lbs lighter. I'm no longer a size 26, but a svelte (for me) size 18. According to my doctor, I have another 50-70 lbs left to go. Is he insane? Okay, I'll play along. After all, he's not been wrong yet. Funny thing is, I'm still a size 26 in my head. I still slink through the lingerie section, expecting to be chased out by the sales clerks and sent to Lane Bryant. I'm still shocked when some man ignores my wedding ring and (gasp) flirts with me. On the other hand, I'm doing things that just wouldn't have been possible a year ago. I exercise three times a week and think it's fun. I bowl with my family, and we're talking about hitting the beach when the weather warms. My husband wants to go on a second honeymoon (technically it would be a first. We were too poor back then) and scuba in Bermuda, and I actually think that's a great idea. I proposed taking up water-skiing too. I fix my hair and put on makeup, and I smile at the woman in the mirror, even if I hardly recognize her without the bags under her eyes from sleep apnea, the puffy cheeks, and triple chin. Who is that woman with high slashing cheekbones, full red lips and smoky eyes? Me? Are you sure? Where's the dumpy old broad who spent half her life in a wheelchair or leaning on a cane? I'm learning to see myself as a thinner, healthier person. I guess it's just going to take more time. Funny thing is, I now have that time.

I'm laughing and at the same time, I'm nodding. My size 12's fell off in the first few months. Then my size 10's. My size 9's fell off last month. Up to this point, I'd bought mostly online or blindly going to the granny panties. This time, my daughter tricked me into (gasp-shudder) bikinis. In colors. (I still hyperventilate at the thought of the red sparkly ones.) I'm still a size 26 in my mind. Hmm...I see a blog coming...

As if to prove the point, my DH playfully yanked my jeans around my ankles in the kitchen this afternoon. (sigh) I don't have time these days to re-tailor my clothes to fit, so I'm wearing the baggy stuff. Most of the time, I wear a belt to prevent mishaps, but I was lazy. I won't make that mistake again, especially with a frisky DH hanging around. (giggle-snerk) Yeah, I love the old fart.

Many folks have a fear of flying, or arachnophobia, etc. Common phobias. Other than a fear of heights, I considered myself fairly fear-free. Then I lost 75 pounds. That's only halfway to my goal weight, but with everything in my closet falling off me and not enough time to tailor anything but my favorites, my daughter said, "Enough is enough, Mom! You can't make a bra, okay? Time to shop!" I sighed and gave in. Until we came to the threshold of the lingerie department. My feet wouldn't move further. I stood there, paralyzed with fear some snobby salesclerk would give me the usual contemptuous look. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. We don't carry the larger sizes. May I recommend Lane Bryant at the other end of the mall?" You know, the dismissive flick of the hair, the turned up nose and presenting her back as if you're unworthy to even set foot in her department? My daughter had to literally trick me to get me in the area by asking me if a certain sexy little bra would work with her wedding gown we'd planned. Then, because I wasn't the victim/shopper, I could go to her. I was relieved and hoped she'd pulled a fast one, hoping I'd buy her some lingerie for her wedding. To get out of buying for myself there and hoping to go back to buying my lingerie online where I didn't have to be snubbed by salesclerks, I was happy to shop. My daughter pretended to shop for herself, casually asking my opinion, and eventually she slipped in the question about what size I thought I might be these days. I fell for it and told her my estimate. After all, I am proud of my much smaller size, even if I'm only halfway to goal. Quick as a wink, two packages of my size underwear and bras hit the basket. Susan grinned in triumph. "Gotcha, Mom. I saw you admiring these. You can wear them now, you know!" I gulped. I glanced around furtively, hoping I could make a mad dash for the registers before the salesclerk had me burned alive for sacrilege. It took me two days to open those packages and try them on. They fit. In fact, they're comfy! My fear is gone, and next on my shopping challenges will be (gulp) buying a pair of jeans in the Misses section, not the "Women's" department. Pray for me! I decided I'd better mention this horrible fear reaction to my doctor so he could warn the shrink to warn the pre-ops that they might have to face the challenge of a fear of shopping in the normal stores. It's freaky, and I never thought it would happen to me, the clothes horse. Doctor Baptista said he'd heard of this from several of his patients, but no one had explained it to him until me. He promised to tell the shrink if I'd blog about it. Save yourselves and shop early and often. Learn to buy one or two pieces as you shrink, or you may face the phobia yourselves. You have nothing to fear from the salesclerks, really. (My mantra.) All laughter at my expense is welcome. Thank you.

Many folks have a fear of flying, or arachnophobia, etc. Common phobias. Other than a fear of heights, I considered myself fairly fear-free. Then I lost 75 pounds. That's only halfway to my goal weight, but with everything in my closet falling off me and not enough time to tailor anything but my favorites, my daughter said, "Enough is enough, Mom! You can't make a bra, okay? Time to shop!" I sighed and gave in. Until we came to the threshold of the lingerie department. My feet wouldn't move further. I stood there, paralyzed with fear some snobby salesclerk would give me the usual contemptuous look. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. We don't carry the larger sizes. May I recommend Lane Bryant at the other end of the mall?" You know, the dismissive flick of the hair, the turned up nose and presenting her back as if you're unworthy to even set foot in her department? My daughter had to literally trick me to get me in the area by asking me if a certain sexy little bra would work with her wedding gown we'd planned. Then, because I wasn't the victim/shopper, I could go to her. I was relieved and hoped she'd pulled a fast one, hoping I'd buy her some lingerie for her wedding. To get out of buying for myself there and hoping to go back to buying my lingerie online where I didn't have to be snubbed by salesclerks, I was happy to shop. My daughter pretended to shop for herself, casually asking my opinion, and eventually she slipped in the question about what size I thought I might be these days. I fell for it and told her my estimate. After all, I am proud of my much smaller size, even if I'm only halfway to goal. Quick as a wink, two packages of my size underwear and bras hit the basket. Susan grinned in triumph. "Gotcha, Mom. I saw you admiring these. You can wear them now, you know!" I gulped. I glanced around furtively, hoping I could make a mad dash for the registers before the salesclerk had me burned alive for sacrilege. It took me two days to open those packages and try them on. They fit. In fact, they're comfy! My fear is gone, and next on my shopping challenges will be (gulp) buying a pair of jeans in the Misses section, not the "Women's" department. Pray for me! I decided I'd better mention this horrible fear reaction to my doctor so he could warn the shrink to warn the pre-ops that they might have to face the challenge of a fear of shopping in the normal stores. It's freaky, and I never thought it would happen to me, the clothes horse. Doctor Baptista said he'd heard of this from several of his patients, but no one had explained it to him until me. He promised to tell the shrink if I'd blog about it. Save yourselves and shop early and often. Learn to buy one or two pieces as you shrink, or you may face the phobia yourselves. You have nothing to fear from the salesclerks, really. (My mantra.) All laughter at my expense is welcome. Thank you.

Hear! Hear! I did gain one pound, but quickly lost it so it may have been a simple normal fluctuation. It's been wonderful to celebrate without the guilt of overeating. This year, the focus was on the family and much, much less stressful with me sitting and laughing with the friends and family in the living room instead of trying to cook too much in my tiny kitchen. Did we have treats? Some, but mostly it was about the gifts and laughter, not food. Hooray for us!

(Sips tea) Head hunger? Not worried about that...it's that huge pile of pies I'm scared of. LOL!

I like 'em. My men are no fun at holiday time, so I don't ask them for their opinions anymore.

What? I'm not supposed to look at my batwings and say, "Well, at least I don't need a parachute! I'll just glide home!"? (giggling)

Time for an SWA meeting again. LOL! BG, the important thing is not to re-gain lost weight. The yo-yo cycle can cause as many health problems as being overweight. Okay, so your weight loss has slowed or stalled. Are you still in One-der-land? Are you healthier than you've been in years? Are you doing more and feeling great? Are you happy? Stop obsessing. Being a bandster is just as much mental as it is physical. You've "confessed" several times that your vacations have been part of your problem, so you know you've had issues with what goes in your mouth isn't coming off your butt. (grin) Now, stop making Thanksgiving such a horror. It's about being thankful, not how much we can ram down our bands. Have a little turkey, and when you're full go take a walk in the lovely fall air. You'll be back in time for coffee and maybe by then a little spoonful of pumpkin pie as a treat. No more is needed. Be thankful and be happy. (HUG)

Oh, dear. It's my kind of nightmare. If worrying about overeating and PBing at family gatherings wasn't bad enough... I just received an invitation to a (gulp) formal New Year's party. Yeah, the kind where the women put up their hair and wear fancy gowns. The kind that sends a clothes horse like me running to the closet to see if anything she has is "good enough." My one fancy gown literally fell off me when I tried it on. Yes, I really mean that. I tried to button the neck thingy, lost hold, and the whole dress dropped to pool around my ankles. Darn it, I only wore that stupid thing once. (sigh) Okay, so it was a size 26 or so. :eek: The host of the party knows I've lost a lot of weight, and he sent a note telling me that while the "formal" was important, he told me to do my best but don't fret. Such a sweetheart! :wub: Then I went to my very favorite silky pantsuit. (Wince) Same thing with the silky pantsuit, only the pants ended up around my ankles and the top, well, let's just say Santa's bag would fit better. Oh, dear. :confused: Um...Anyone know a used formalwear shop?

Oh, dear. It's my kind of nightmare. If worrying about overeating and PBing at family gatherings wasn't bad enough... I just received an invitation to a (gulp) formal New Year's party. Yeah, the kind where the women put up their hair and wear fancy gowns. The kind that sends a clothes horse like me running to the closet to see if anything she has is "good enough." :redface: My one fancy gown literally fell off me when I tried it on. Yes, I really mean that. I tried to button the neck thingy, lost hold, and the whole dress dropped to pool around my ankles. Darn it, I only wore that stupid thing once. (sigh) Okay, so it was a size 26 or so. :thumbup: The host of the party knows I've lost a lot of weight, and he sent a note telling me that while the "formal" was important, he told me to do my best but don't fret. Such a sweetheart! :thumbup: Then I went to my very favorite silky pantsuit. (Wince) Same thing with the silky pantsuit, only the pants ended up around my ankles and the top, well, let's just say Santa's bag would fit better. Oh, dear. :confused: Um...Anyone know a used formalwear shop? :confused:

Okay, BG. You nailed me. That's what I dress like. Thanks Mechelle and kdee. Like TinyaK, I've been holding off shopping, except for some very necessary lingerie. When your bra bunches up and isn't holding up "the girls" anymore and your panties fall off your butt, it's time for new stuff. I was hoping to hold off until I got to Onederland, but looks like I'll be shopping and sewing soon. My daughter insists it's okay to go to the stores to shop for clothes, but I've been looking and I've not seen much that appeals to my tastes for bright cheerful colors. Guess I'll be pulling out some of those "one day when" patterns, huh? LOL!

I've not lost any friends, but some are treating me differently now. Some friendships have grown closer, some moved apart. The good friends are still good friends. One man who told me before surgery that I was not sexy now is very flirtatious. If he didn't find me a good companion before, and now he does, I can pretty much guess he's in lust not love. Good thing I'm happily married and was never interested anyway. Biggest problem I'm having is getting my DH to remember I'm no longer in poor health and barely able to move. I *want* to mow the lawn and garden, doggone it! Gimme back my rake! LOL!

Just curious as to how all of you have been doing since ur surgery in January? Are you happy about your band? Happy is too mild a term. I'm ecstatic. How do you love bandster life? I love my life now. I'm walking everywhere, getting more done, and the changes in my life are monumental. How close are you to your goal? I'm about halfway there. I've lost around 70 lbs, with about another 70 to go, if I want to listen to the doc. Heck, I could stay right here at a size 18 and be happy, but getting below 200# has become a goal in itself. Do you exercise everyday? Not every day, but three times a week I do a mile walk. The rest is "everyday exercise" like mowing the lawn, parking in the back of the shopping mall lot and walking in, or dancing the night away on a date night with the DH. :smile2: Do you PB alot? Sometimes yes, especially when I don't pay attention to how I eat. What I eat is easy. It's eating too fast that causes me difficulty more often than not. Once in awhile I come back here to blog or answer some of the blogs I subscribe to. I'll say that I'm happy where I am, and anything else that I lose is just the cherry on top. I'm happy just as I am now.

“Lena, stop dressing like a fat woman!” Those were the words of my co-workers and fellow teachers at JoAnn’s Fabrics this past weekend. My only pair of new size 18 jeans were dirty, so I’d thrown on my old size 24 black jeans, a nice shirt, and my favorite black butterfly brocade jacket. I thought I looked pretty snazzy, even if my jeans were held up by my belt. Apparently, I was wrong. The two sewing instructors insisted on giving me a detailed analysis of how I need to cut down my clothes and re-tailor them to fit. Moreover, my lovely butterfly jacket is “only something fat women wear to hide their rolls of flesh.” (Oh, dear. Ummm...I love that jacket.) Guess this means I’d better pull out some of my patterns and make myself some new clothes or my co-workers may just rip my clothes off my body next meeting! EEEK! Still, what they said bugs me. Do I dress like a fat woman? What does a fat woman dress like?

“Lena, stop dressing like a fat woman!” Those were the words of my co-workers and fellow teachers at JoAnn’s Fabrics this past weekend. My only pair of new size 18 jeans were dirty, so I’d thrown on my old size 24 black jeans, a nice shirt, and my favorite black butterfly brocade jacket. I thought I looked pretty snazzy, even if my jeans were held up by my belt. Apparently, I was wrong. The two sewing instructors insisted on giving me a detailed analysis of how I need to cut down my clothes and re-tailor them to fit. Moreover, my lovely butterfly jacket is “only something fat women wear to hide their rolls of flesh.” (Oh, dear. Ummm...I love that jacket.) Guess this means I’d better pull out some of my patterns and make myself some new clothes or my co-workers may just rip my clothes off my body next meeting! EEEK! Still, what they said bugs me. Do I dress like a fat woman? What does a fat woman dress like?

I haven't had too much luck with the cream. It seems to be a temporary measure at best. Doc has already told me I *will* have another surgery or two. One to repair some surgical hernias left from previous operations and hidden by my fat until now, and at least one to remove my excess skin on my arms and belly. He's hoping to combine the belly skin surgery with the hernia operation, but the arms may have to be done separately, owing to my work.

My doc also says there may be periods of time where your weight loss stalls while your body adjusts, and be patient. My WL stalled for about six months, staying right at the same weight, then dropped considerably. Now it's stalled again, but I've noticed the NSV's are increasing. I stopped worrying about what the scale said and went on living. So what if I only lose 5 lbs a month? I'm still losing and my skin has a chance to snap back without my looking like a kid in Mommy's skin. LOL!

I got lucky. We gave it all away, right down to the last "fun size" bag of malted milk balls. Muahahaha!! I'm safe! Whoohoo!! ::Wiping sweat off my brow::

Thanks, y'all! I had lots of fun and I will go back eventually.