voiceomt2002

On Saturday, Dante, my DD Susan, and I went to the Jacksonville Zoo. Not that big of a deal, right? It was for me. One year ago, I couldn't have hauled my badly overweight carcass around a grocery store, much less acres of walking trails. I would have been humiliated and restricted to one of those expensive rented electric carts, unable to ride the train or get "up close and personal" with the exhibits. I'd have been in my black stretchy knits, hoping no one noticed how sweaty I was. My swollen feet would have been crammed into my black Crocs, just so my feet could breathe and cool me. A few years ago, I would have jonesed for a cigarette and been unable to satisfy my craving because the electric carts would have been difficult to get to the few places where smokers could be. This year was radically different than all years past where I sat in my wheelchair while Dante and Susan had fun. This year I was in size 18 jeans and a pink tee shirt, bouncing all over the zoo in my white tennis shoes, with my energy level equal to a power plant. I was the one hauling Susan and Dante hither and yon, running to take a picture here, ooohing and ahhing at the lovely creatures, while they struggled to keep up. This year, Dante leaned on his cane, sweated, and begged for a chance to sit down. I graciously found places for him to sit and rest while Susan and I bounced around like both of us were 24 years old instead of just Susan. We got him cool drinks and held his place in line while he limped off to rest or smoke. The zoo is smoke free, so he took only one smoke break out on a dock on the Trout River. Susan and I yanked the camera out of each others' hands to take pictures whenever we saw a great shot, depending on who had the best angle. We finally had to leave because DH would get off work soon, so we missed the Australian/African portion, but we did stop long enough for a quick visit to Stingray Bay to pet a stingray. :crying: You can see my pictures in this album: http://s516.photobucket.com/albums/u323/voiceomt2002/Home%20and%20Family/ I'm proud that I was the one who walked and didn't get tired, didn't blow my diet, and enjoyed myself. Next time, I think I'll take DH for a romantic stroll. He can keep up with me. (Big Grin)

On Saturday, Dante, my DD Susan, and I went to the Jacksonville Zoo. Not that big of a deal, right? It was for me. One year ago, I couldn't have hauled my badly overweight carcass around a grocery store, much less acres of walking trails. I would have been humiliated and restricted to one of those expensive rented electric carts, unable to ride the train or get "up close and personal" with the exhibits. I'd have been in my black stretchy knits, hoping no one noticed how sweaty I was. My swollen feet would have been crammed into my black Crocs, just so my feet could breathe and cool me. A few years ago, I would have jonesed for a cigarette and been unable to satisfy my craving because the electric carts would have been difficult to get to the few places where smokers could be. This year was radically different than all years past where I sat in my wheelchair while Dante and Susan had fun. This year I was in size 18 jeans and a pink tee shirt, bouncing all over the zoo in my white tennis shoes, with my energy level equal to a power plant. I was the one hauling Susan and Dante hither and yon, running to take a picture here, ooohing and ahhing at the lovely creatures, while they struggled to keep up. This year, Dante leaned on his cane, sweated, and begged for a chance to sit down. I graciously found places for him to sit and rest while Susan and I bounced around like both of us were 24 years old instead of just Susan. We got him cool drinks and held his place in line while he limped off to rest or smoke. The zoo is smoke free, so he took only one smoke break out on a dock on the Trout River. Susan and I yanked the camera out of each others' hands to take pictures whenever we saw a great shot, depending on who had the best angle. We finally had to leave because DH would get off work soon, so we missed the Australian/African portion, but we did stop long enough for a quick visit to Stingray Bay to pet a stingray. You can see my pictures in this album: http://s516.photobucket.com/albums/u323/voiceomt2002/Home%20and%20Family/ I'm proud that I was the one who walked and didn't get tired, didn't blow my diet, and enjoyed myself. Next time, I think I'll take DH for a romantic stroll. He can keep up with me. (Big Grin)

Heck, I'd be happy to be under 200 lbs, and ecstatic to be under 175. Anything after that is dream territory.

I've just returned from my monthly visit with Dr. Baptista, whom I still adore. However, I finally realized I don't care what my weight is anymore. I'm losing weight, though it comes off in about 5 lb increments. I'm wearing size 18, down from size 26, jeans. I'm wearing a 38B bra. I mowed our 3/4 acre lawn a couple weeks ago. I've not gone to the beach yet, but that's in my future when warm weather returns. The biggest change is in my head. I'm no longer obsessed with food, or my diet, other than watching what I eat so I don't throw up and waste food. It's just fuel so I can get back to the business of living. I never thought I'd say that. This year, I don't care if there's candy in the stores. The thought of eating the whole bag like I did on a previous Halloween isn't there. I don't want it. It's the non-food stuff I care about now. Gee, the grandchildren are going to need new warm pajamas. I'd better go make them some. Let's carve the polyurethane foam pumpkins and string some spooky orange lights! Gee, my DH is so tired on weekends. I'd better go mow the yard and mulch that flowerbed. We're going dancing on Thursday night? Super! Where are my shoes? Food? Uh, no thanks. Not hungry. No really, no thanks. Want to go for a Ghost Walk?

I've just returned from my monthly visit with Dr. Baptista, whom I still adore. However, I finally realized I don't care what my weight is anymore. I'm losing weight, though it comes off in about 5 lb increments. I'm wearing size 18, down from size 26, jeans. I'm wearing a 38B bra. I mowed our 3/4 acre lawn a couple weeks ago. I've not gone to the beach yet, but that's in my future when warm weather returns. The biggest change is in my head. I'm no longer obsessed with food, or my diet, other than watching what I eat so I don't throw up and waste food. It's just fuel so I can get back to the business of living. I never thought I'd say that. This year, I don't care if there's candy in the stores. The thought of eating the whole bag like I did on a previous Halloween isn't there. I don't want it. It's the non-food stuff I care about now. Gee, the grandchildren are going to need new warm pajamas. I'd better go make them some. Let's carve the polyurethane foam pumpkins and string some spooky orange lights! Gee, my DH is so tired on weekends. I'd better go mow the yard and mulch that flowerbed. We're going dancing on Thursday night? Super! Where are my shoes? Food? Uh, no thanks. Not hungry. No really, no thanks. Want to go for a Ghost Walk?

I'm ten months out and my hair is coming back at last. Funny thing, though. I thought I lost the boobs, but a smaller bra (band) feels much better. The cup size didn't change all that much. Wow!

Oh, thank goodness! It's not just me that's suddenly finding out about purging the "automatic black" from the wardrobe and shopping! (Happy Dance) Hey, BG! We wear the same bra size! I'm a 38B, and I gave up the regular bras for the sports bras out of sheer desperation. I'm still fat in my head, too. I'm only 15 lbs away from my thinnest since before I had kids close to thirty years ago, but I still feel like a Leviathan. I still skulk around the Misses section of the women's clothing like I don't belong there, and have to tell myself I'm shopping for my daughter (who is the same size I am now) before I stop shaking. I keep expecting some skinny little salesgirl half my age to point toward the women's section and say loudly and contemptuously, "They have things that will fit you, Ma'am!" (Don't you feel like the salespeople all use "Ma'am" when they'd much rather say, "B*tch" or is it just me?)

Did you go shopping with me yesterday and look over my shoulders or what? You're scary, woman. Yesterday morning, my daughter walked in on me before I'd finished dressing for the day. She sighed. "Okay, Mom! That's enough. Look at you! Your granny panties are falling off your butt, and that size gi-normous Lane Bryant sports bra isn't even holding itself up, much less you. We're going shopping. No arguments! Get in the car!" I was bullied and hustled into the (gulp) Misses sizes and had clothes thrown at me by a 24 year old on a mission for an hour. I now wear a size 18 (Down from 26!!!) but the bra size is a little "iffy" to find. Who knew there was no such thing as a 38B in Wal-Mart??? I used to think this was going to be fun.

I was sitting in my tiny little office in our home in Denver. My DH was struggling to get enough work for us to pay the bills, and I was typing frantically at my keyboard, one year away from making my first sale. One of my writing friends sent out a mass email: OMG! Turn on the TV! That's how learned about it. My BIL was a cop in Washington DC, and another BIL is an EMT Nurse near DC. There's nothing worse than wondering if it's your family out there being a hero, unless it's finding out they were the heroes and victims of that day. There are flags out on my lawn today to honor the heroes and the victims of 9/11. Bin Laden gave us a black eye and hurt us, but he didn't destroy us.

About those hour-long waits-- my doc has a constant hour-long wait, sometimes more. Usually, the waiting room is packed solid, and it's a new fresh hell every time. You can tell who's been with doc at least six months, because they appear resigned to the wait and pull out needlework, books, and laptops. The rest fidget and get pissed off. There's no sense in doing so. There's just that many morbidly obese folks who need help.

Calm down, BG. You'll hurt yourself. LOL! You got that right, Lucky. Any job is a good job right now. I've piles of projects to complete that have been on hold for months, but at least we have more than hope. Lena

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!

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!

Hey, Perfect! Yeah, things might be looking up. I had a lot to lose and definitely some roadblocks, but I refuse to give up the fight. Even if I continue to lose a mere 5 lbs a month, by next summer I'll still be very close to my goal weight. Here's hoping!

I've been silent for the past few months because of personal family issues including my DH being out of work for six months. We skirted the cliff edge of disaster, and I didn't lose much weight with a carb-addicted sweet tooth that walks on two legs like my DH hanging around every day, bored out of his mind. Needless to say, we were both so stressed that I had to find new solutions for coping with stress or gain weight. I chose quilting and other sewing projects, and got a part-time job as a teacher in JoAnn fabrics shops. Those two things saved me. While I didn't lose much each month, I still lost weight. I'm now halfway to my goal, and almost half the woman I used to be. There's still another 70 lbs to go, but I'm already wearing the "goal clothes" I thought would never see daylight. Then, my 24-year-old daughter came to live with us. With my own clothes falling off my body, my daughter handed me some of hers. They fit. In fact, even my daughter agrees they look better on me. (giggle) She's still pouting that her 50-year-old mother looks better in her clothes than she does. Now the big day approaches. I'm fighting as long as I can out of sheer terror, but the time has come. I must go shopping for new clothes. In a regular department store, not Lane Bryant.

Hi KayVee! Nope, no lightning if I can help it. We've been burned once already. I can't have any of the celebratory cake. It's Monkey Bread, and DH loves it. However, I tried one little ball off it, and thought I'd die for an hour. It was well and truly stuck. Never again!

Hi Lucky, Below is the URL to the best Ham and Cheese Pie I ever ate. Even as written, it's a mere 11g of carbs, but I don't bother with the apple and I use Spam Lite to make it even easier and cheaper. The serving size of 1/6 of a pie is more than adequate for a bandster. I can't even manage that much. Impossibly Easy Ham and Cheddar Pie Recipe from Betty Crocker

I found a quote yesterday that I've made my own in this time of hardship for my family. "Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." Since my banding last January, we've had a horrible time with my DH losing his job in March, the threat of foreclosure, a cancer scare, more medical issues, and even a death of an infant recently. Through it all, we've tried hard to keep our chins up. It hasn't been easy, and we've been forced to use pills like Tylenol PM to help us sleep despite our physical and mental pains. I won't say there haven't been good things like my daughter coming to live with us. There have been. They just got overshadowed. Still, we kept fighting and trying to find positives. Now there's a tiny ray of hope on the horizon. DH got a job offer last week. He's in the pre-hire process, and we live on pins and needles, waiting for the phone call that will tell him what time to come in on the 8th. Until then, we refuse to celebrate. We're scared to even bake him a small cake. Cross your fingers, pray, light candles, or whatever is your way of thanking the Creator for me. We're still dancing in the rain, and praying we don't get struck by lightning.

I found a quote yesterday that I've made my own in this time of hardship for my family. "Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." Since my banding last January, we've had a horrible time with my DH losing his job in March, the threat of foreclosure, a cancer scare, more medical issues, and even a death of an infant recently. Through it all, we've tried hard to keep our chins up. It hasn't been easy, and we've been forced to use pills like Tylenol PM to help us sleep despite our physical and mental pains. I won't say there haven't been good things like my daughter coming to live with us. There have been. They just got overshadowed. Still, we kept fighting and trying to find positives. Now there's a tiny ray of hope on the horizon. DH got a job offer last week. He's in the pre-hire process, and we live on pins and needles, waiting for the phone call that will tell him what time to come in on the 8th. Until then, we refuse to celebrate. We're scared to even bake him a small cake. Cross your fingers, pray, light candles, or whatever is your way of thanking the Creator for me. We're still dancing in the rain, and praying we don't get struck by lightning.

I agree with Meesh. My doc has a strict diet policy pre-surgery, and he hopes you continue the diet post-op. He took me down to liquid slowly. First, I had a few months of low-carb diet. (This is the most difficult part, IMHO.) Then he took me down to soft, easy to digest foods, and finally, liquids only for the week before surgery. Was it fun? No. However, Meesh is correct. The liver should be reduced to avoid complications, bruising and even splitting of your liver. Who needs that? Getting a band is enough to handle. Don't make your body work more than it has to.

Whoa, what a lot of questions. Okay, one by one I'll answer them. 1. How the sweet spot feels-- like a very tight restriction that borders between "liquids pass okay" and "Don't eat THAT or you'll pay dearly!" You see, my doctor doesn't use a scope during fills. So when he handed me water after a fill and told me to tell him when the water passed, I could barely feel the water. This morning, I'm drinking hot coffee and I can clearly and with deep conviction tell you exactly when the hot coffee has passed the stoma. There's a good ten seconds of wait before the "warmth" and slight pressure go away. 2. How much is in my band-- I'm not clear on that, but it's over 11 ccs. I'd say 12-13. I asked for a hefty dose of saline because of the upcoming holidays and the size of my family's carb addiction. (grin) Being weak-willed got me fat. I'm not taking any chances! 3. How do I know it's the sweet spot-- Because I can still eat solid food if I'm very careful about what and how much goes in, plus I'm losing an average of 2 lbs a week. Stepping on that scale every morning is the best reward I can give myself. 4. How much can I eat-- That depends on the density of the food. I can barely choke down about 1-2oz of meat, OR 1/4 cup of my allowed veggies, OR a 1/2 cup of cottage cheese, which can be more than I can finish in thirty minutes. Doc told me to use the 30 minute rule-- if you have that full feeling in less than 30 minutes, stop eating and put the plate in the sink, even if there's still food on the plate. Mama isn't there to see whether you cleaned your plate or not. (The dog now thinks I'm a goddess, since he gets what little remains on my plate.) 5. Getting stuck- first I get the "full" sensation down there. It's not a pain, but a definite feeling of pressure. If I ignore it, I get pain. :scared2:At that point, it's too late and I'd better make a discreet and quiet exit to the bathroom, since I am guaranteed to PB. If I PB my dinner, I go pull out a low-carb protein shake because my insides are letting me know they aren't happy with me and I'd better be gentle.:smile2: 6. Self-discipline? Uh, no. Look, I'm a weak-willed wuss when it comes to saying, "No" to foods that are bad for me. That's what got me fat. What keeps me out of trouble takes extreme measures like keeping the contraband in a locked pantry I don't have the key to. I have cheese sticks and carefully measured servings of snacks I am allowed. I'm a writer, so having "thinking food" nearby on my desk is a habit I don't want to break. I did replace my high-carb thinking foods with low carb alternatives like small cubes of cheese, a few chunks of meat that's okay cold, and veggies like celery in their own cold water "vase." (The celery works best for me. It's a "cigarette" and crunchy "thinking food" in one. I've been known to stick a half-eaten stalk behind my ear to type when a great idea hits. Good thing I hid the camera.) The biggest change comes when I am outside the house. Instead of planning around where we'll eat, we plan the activity. It's kind of funny when my family eyes longingly the chinese buffet we used to patronize while I march toward the shops with barely a glance at the golden dragons. LOL! I can't wait to go to the historical district of St. Augustine, where I'll care more about the nifty little tourist traps than my growling stomach! I'm happy with my bottle of Crystal Light, thanks. That's what it's like for me. YMMV. (Your mileage may vary.)

For someone who's scared to death of needles, I have to say I almost enjoy my fills. This last, however, was perhaps the most challenging. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy! I've already dropped a few more pounds since my doctor visit two weeks ago. This has produced some interesting clothing mishaps. However, I'm still wary of attending the upcoming holiday events with my loving family. Bless them all, they don't understand and can't seem to "get" that I can't have ANY carbs-- no pasta, no rice, no potatoes, no sugars, no corn, peas, winter squashes and sweet potatoes. No, not "just one bite or just this once" (frustrated sigh) I've repeated myself explaining until I'm blue in the face and annoyed. Well, I'm done. I've turned down the family dinner invitation in favor a peaceful evening with my DH, brother, and daughter. They get it. They're benefitting as I can now take on and share household chores without getting out of breath or limping because my feet and knees couldn't take my weight before. Now I mow the lawn, pull weeds, scrub floors, and wash the car. It's fun to be healthy! Next goal__ One-der-land!

For someone who's scared to death of needles, I have to say I almost enjoy my fills. This last, however, was perhaps the most challenging. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy! I've already dropped a few more pounds since my doctor visit two weeks ago. This has produced some interesting clothing mishaps. However, I'm still wary of attending the upcoming holiday events with my loving family. Bless them all, they don't understand and can't seem to "get" that I can't have ANY carbs-- no pasta, no rice, no potatoes, no sugars, no corn, peas, winter squashes and sweet potatoes. No, not "just one bite or just this once" (frustrated sigh) I've repeated myself explaining until I'm blue in the face and annoyed. Well, I'm done. I've turned down the family dinner invitation in favor a peaceful evening with my DH, brother, and daughter. They get it. They're benefitting as I can now take on and share household chores without getting out of breath or limping because my feet and knees couldn't take my weight before. Now I mow the lawn, pull weeds, scrub floors, and wash the car. It's fun to be healthy! Next goal__ One-der-land!

I'm in the sweet spot at last, and dropping about 2 lbs a week. Honey, you just learned a lesson-- The Band Never Sleeps. (grin) Yep, even on vacation or when in crisis, your band just doesn't stop functioning. You can screw yourself royally by eating foods that will pass, and drinking methyl-ethyl-bad-stuff (spank! spank!) and you will gain weight. Now, get back on the stick. Your band only controls solid mass. You can get around the band, and apparently you're doing so. Stop stretching your pouch. Now, go see the doc and make sure there's nothing medical. Once you've done that, get back on a healthy diet. Don't make me drive out to your place and boot you in the butt. (grin)

Glad you like my suggestion, DirtTrackDiva! Hey, Kathy! Thanks for being a good member of the human race and helping the lady. (saluting you) People who text on the job ought to lose their jobs.