general_antiope

I stand in front of a mirror in a small exam room around 3:00 pm, nude under a cotton robe. This place has to be fancy, I think to myself; Normally I was handed a stiff tissue paper smock. Even the floor here is carpeted, and not the cold linoleum of so many doctor's offices. It took three hours to get here because I got horridly lost trying to make the other surgeon's appointment, which needed to be canceled. I am a little road weary and feel ridiculously comforted by these small details. I look at myself, holding the robe closed. I see a girl with a thin neck and angular face, who sort of resembles me. She has a neat sunny, lemony bob haircut, blown straight until it's soft and shiny and moves with a turn of the head. I've seen this girl a lot the past few years, but am always startled that it's actually me. With the June humidity, I can see evidence of natural curls trying to reform by one temple, as if trying to remind the world that it had been there 100 lbs ago, and will not be forgotten and denied like the plus sized shirts I once had to sport. This has been a long journey; longer than most. Plastic surgery signals the end of this road. Three and a half years after surgery I am still dragging on and somehow prolonging the end, for no reason I can figure out. But I will put one foot in front of the other, and continue to try to decipher the internal love language between my body and emotions that produce food cravings as their child. I will never stop trying to intercept their messages. I believe this will occupy me the rest of my life. Fortunately, it has become a background murmur, and is manageable. This search for a plastic surgeon to tie up the loose ends, as it were, feels as much surreal as it does mechanical. I'm going through motions. I'm going through emotions. But I don't feel present. It's as if someone else is pulling me along, lifting my hand to pick up the phone to make an appointment, tearing off my clothes in rarely expressed comfort, with more faith in a surgeon I'd just met than men I take to my bed. I'd been to three plastic surgeons in the past year, looking for someone who would inspire me as both an artist and a surgical genius. So far, no dice. But the goal of a tummy tuck and a breast lift seems to be the last piece for lasting peace. Once I have this, I tell myself, I can't keep holding off on dating, waiting, ignoring I'm 32 and alive under this two-sizes-too-big skin that kept me alive during a slow and imminent suicide attempt. I can't keep hiding from life, or being angry when I'm hit on, or being sad when I'm alone, or continue to justify food as an acceptable source of intimacy. Once this surgery is done, I must live with it; it's me. There is no more fantasizing about how I could look. I'd look the way I would continue to look well into my elderly years. Kind of frightening for someone who spent her life since age 12 writing romance fantasies where she was a slim, normal bodied girl with no scars. I'm well aware of this body image issue, and I'm becoming aware that I'm keeping myself from the end so I don't have to face an unknown and possibly different future than the one I'd obsessed over and wrote about in as many incarnations as I had inches of unnecessary skin. Here I am at the last office I plan on being in for a while. Plastic surgeon #4. And I'm looking at my naked body, imagining what he will tell me that I haven't already heard before from the last 3 surgeons. I wonder if he will treat me like a self-indulgent headcase, or a low intelligence moneybag, or condescend when I play dumb and ask him the same basic questions I ask all my surgeons, like I haven't already done all my research. A funny thing is happening. I open my robe and stare at the body that I like more than I used to, a body I actually look at more than I used to. I see myself differently today, and I'm not sure why. I look at my large breasts, showing the effects of being a D cup and sagging more than I'd like, but relatively youthful and full. My belly actually has deep grooves in the abdomen of a 4 pack I have been building through core exercises, but which is muffled by the layer of belly fat I still need to lose. I poke at the indentations where my skin is attached to my muscle, amazed at the slightly distorted evidence of my health bursting through. I do work out; I finally noticed it shows. Perhaps it shows like an overstuffed favorite loveseat who has lost its buttons but still holds the pillowed indentations, but it shows. For the first time in my life, I think, "Wow. Not bad." I'm not looking at my flaws, like the dimpled orange peel flesh of my abdomen, or the way the flesh pulls out like silly putty from being stretched beyond saving. I'm looking at the beauty of me just as I am. It's comforting and weird. I turn to the side and am shocked to see that the normally flat butt I complain about and lack of lumbar curvature that lends one a perky bottom are actually acceptable, passable, and rather curvy. Totally no J Lo, but not a wan Kate Hudson either -- or the back of Jessica Simpson. Maybe slightly Julia Roberts, or a younger Diane Keaton. I lift the robe. Are you kidding me? Really? Is this what I look like? This isn't horrible at all. Certainly I need the post weight-loss nip/tuck but what the hell have I been--- Dr. Capella asks if I ready, voice distant through the door. "Come on in," I said loudly. He sits down on his rolling stool and we get right down to it. I open the robe. He does not fall off his stool, crying out in horror, clawing at his bleeding eyes. This is a great start. I feel something a little foreign wrap around me. Body confidence. I am in front of a huge mirror that covers the wall, fluorescent lighting and a man I just met is not only looking at my nude body, but touching it and seeing possibility that I would never even entertain. "This," Dr. Capella said, tracing a light line over a good handful of my midsection. "Is all coming out. You probably have about 15 lbs of skin on you, actually." Fifteen? Fifteen? I start doing calculations. I'm technically 15 lbs lighter and without the skin would probably be in a 12, not a 14. Holy crap! He goes on to tell me, " You're young, and you're going to not only heal well, but fast. You're a perfect candidate for the body lift and mastopexy." "Can I stay a D cup, do you think?" I ask nervously. Some doctors recommended I get a reduction and implants. He actually snorts like an amused horse. "Your breasts are gorgeous. Look. Here's what they'll look like. The skin is great." He proceeds to manipulate my breast and shows me the plump, round, perky profile I've been fantasizing about since I was 10 and got my first underwire bra. He goes on to look at my behind, flanks, back, and commented several times on the good condition of my fair skin (I believe it's because I turned vampire and simply never set foot in the sun). He shows me how when he pulls up the back of me, how it will dissolve the annoying roll under my bra, how contouring the top of my hips will accentuate my womanly curves just sitting there waiting to be unearthed. "I am interested in looking good in tailored clothes," I say, continuing to look at my body. "I've long given up on looking gorgeous naked, but I want to be smooth and lean and proportionate in clothes." I'm turning this way and that, sucking in my belly and marveling at the cut of my ribs showing for the first time in my life. Marveling that none of the bone-crushing shame at looking at myself, much less with another person there, was choking me. He gives a strange, rueful little laugh, shaking his head a fraction, and then catches himself. As if he knows I don't yet see what he sees. "You're going to be gorgeous. You've got relatively minimal sag, and you're young. I can give you a flat, contoured belly, smooth buttocks and thighs, and your breasts are going to look fantastic. You have the raw materials already here. And," he adds, gesturing to my face. "You're beautiful. Just...believe me. Total package. You are going to love the results." You're beautiful. I stared at him for a long moment. I expected a little bit of ego stroking. After all, for $15 - 20k for the procedures I wanted, I anticipate a bit of salesmanship. But there I was, flat-haired from driving in the humidity, purple circles under my eyes that my hastily applied concealer didn't actually conceal due to my late rise that morning. And I had to be one of thousands of women who walked through there. And why even bring my face into it? We're talking about my body. He's only getting paid from the neck down on me. I look back at the mirror. I believe him. The first person, really, I believe. I feel like, for the first time, I am being truly seen under the loose skin and the belly pouch and the arms that totally need a lift down the line. Someone actually sees me and I don't have to scream, or be funny, or be "life of the party", or overly intelligent, or anything else to get noticed. He isn't stroking my ego; I feel like a piece of clay out of which he sees the swan, and he knows exactly how to mold the clay to get the result. And he's humble enough not to slap my face off my skull for being dense about it. I dress and we reconvene in his office, looking at pictures again. "Now that I know what you look like before," he says. "Here's what you'll look like after." He proceeds to fill my eyes with round, perky, natural looking D cup breasts. Flat bellies that would allow me to wear hip huggers, belly shirts, hell, even a belt. Natural looking waists, not the "tube" effect of some body lifts. Scars in proportion to pubic hair line and belly button. Picture after picture after picture. Very few asymmetries. I think there was one out of the bunch. I found my surgeon. I might have found something else, too.

So as some of you know, because I blab constantly and write novellas in every post, I've been banded for 3.5 years and have maintained a 100lb weight loss but have been "stuck" in the 190's - 200's and not able to get down. I refuse to give up, and will keep trying and trying until I become a 100% club member. I went to get a fill yesterday mostly for support from my doctor, talk to her about the constant burping, gurgling, and development of new nighttime coughing. Turns out I'm so overfilled in my band that I developed bad habits. Dr. Ren was thrilled I lost 12 lbs in three months and explained that coughing in the middle of the night, throwing up once out of a dead sleep were NOT indications that I'm eating too close to bedtime, but that the band was way too tight. "Wha," I said. "I can still eat pizza! I had crusty bread. I can basically eat whatever I want." Commence the interrogation. Well, looks like I've been breaking major band commandments unconsciously. I've been sipping Water while I ate (and felt like a FOOL for not realizing it, LOL) Oops. I'm eating easier foods that slide down easier, and since my band is overfilled (4.4cc in a 4.0 band) my pouch has enlarged. We looked at my esophagram after the last fill and holy cow my stuff is tight. So here's the process. I eat Soup at lunch and eat perfect band amounts. Lunch is hard. Hard means perfect in the band world. Kate doesn't care about food. Snack, I usually do a cup of coffee OR a cookie, something high in calories, telling myself I need the calories. Once in a while I try yogurt, but throw out half of it. Cottage cheese is making a comeback in my diet, but I choose Cookies or something junk more often than not. Very, very bad idea. dinner, I am concerned at my 200 calories consumed in the day (it's at this point I forget about the cookie or brownie). I will talk myself into something dumb like capellini alfredo (you're not dumb baby, you know I love you!!) and because my band is looser at night, and I'm eating longer than 15 minutes (try...an HOUR once I thought about it last night) I can get a normal portion in. Fortunately, I eat little enough in the beginning of the day to offset the calories so I don't gain any weight. (guess who is still 193.8) But I don't lose, either, and my reflux has kicked up, which increases my unconscious eating to calm down the acid bubbles and burping. It all makes sense, finally!!! I have slowly been loosening the commandments. The band is doing its job perfectly; it's just me not paying close enough attention. I feel completely rejuvenated. I'm also alone too much, Dr. Ren says, and she wants me to get myself to a therapist. The last one I had who specialized in weight issues was terrible and ended up calling me and complaining that she "had the blues" so I haven't had the urge to find someone else. Lots of my eating is self soothing, still. But now that my girl {{{{{{{{{LEXY}}}}}}}}}} has been banded and is KICKING BUTT I have a new partner in crime. She inspires me back to proper band behavior, and I can't freaking WAIT to lose the rest of my excess weight. I can't WEIGHT! oh, here was something fun. My plastic surgery consult informed me I'm carrying about 15 lbs of excess skin. !!!!!!!!!! Which means that I'm thinner than I was in high school. Lord, that made me happy. I may ask for another unfill in 2 months. Gonna give myself some time. I went down to 4.1, but I am still burping and gurgling. Dr. Ren swears its my acid reflux, so she has me on meds now I'm gonna try my lemon water daily before taking any meds. Bunny is stubborn.

I'm so glad I still went to see the other doctor. I didn't think it was possible to have the same comfort level with Lap Band experience, but I got it all. I found my doctor!! Dr. Joseph Capella in Ramsey, NJ and his father have a dual practice. His father does bariatric surgery at Hackensack Hospital, and Dr. Capella does body contouring after weight loss. At my fill visit, Dr. Ren told me that she was concerned Dr. Bottger (previous champion of Kate's Excess Skin) wanted to talk to her about moving the port. "It's ridiculously simple," she said. "All he does is remove stitches, plait the muscles, move the port and restitch in the new place. If he wants to talk to me, and says he doesn't "do" ports, it means he's never done it." I told her I was meeting with another Jersey surgeon who apparently specialized in it, or had a lot of bariatric experience. "Who is he?" she asked. "Dr. Philip Wey." "Hmm. Haven't heard of him. You should go to Dr. Capella in Ramsey. He has tons of experience repositioning or replacing ports. He does a lot of my patients." !!!!!!! the very guy I canceled. Why didn't the office tell me that?! They gave me 2 surgeons in NY who wanted $250 just to show up in their office. I called Dr. Capella's office the second I was out of my fill appt and begged them to let me re-make my appointment. His resume reads like something straight out of my wildest fantasy. He's Chief of the Division of Post Bariatic Surgery in the department of Plastic Surgery. I didn't know they HAD that. He is a guru in this area. He's been on 20/20, The View, Elle Magazine in an article about he and his dad did surgery and plastic surgery on a whole family. He's in Weight Loss Surgery Magazine. As I sat in his office, I read an article about how he appeared in a DVD special on Post Bariatric Reconstructive surgery (instructional video for other doctors on doing a circumferential body lift) with the top 12 docs in the nation. He was one of them. Oh, my, GOD! He's written three books on plastic surgery after massive weight loss and contributed to like 30 journals. OK. So. Yeah. Guess who I'm going with? I found him to be oozing intelligence. He has a fantastic bedside manner and even the staff was raving about him. This one girl said she needed breast augmentation and after being in the OR with him and saw the beautiful work he did, had him do her work, and she could not be happier. I asked about port repositioning, he says his dad comes in, moves the port, leaves. LOL. ok I'm good with that. Other things I like about him is his cutting edge techniques. He explained pretty thoroughly that he does not use drains, pain pumps or even binders. Drains - I asked him what happened to the excess liquid. He said he did it a lot in the past but has been using a different technique for the past two years that has dramatic results. The weeping is caused by the skin being separated from the muscle, and it has to knit back together, hence the needs for drains for a week or so. He found with 15 minutes extra work of suturing the skin back to the muscle in position, he removes the needs for drains completely and the patient doesn't have to deal with it He also says papers have come out on that, as well as pain pumps, that convince him it's unnecessary and one more uncomfortable thing to deal with that has no lasting benefit. Pain pumps, he says, do not dramatically reduce the amount of narcotic needed, actually. So he prefers not to have extra "junk" in his patients that will affect the results. Finally, he shocked me with his views on binders. "Even after a new body lift??" I asked, unable to contain my surprise. "Binders are used in theory to reduce the swelling after surgery. But that swelling is also sending blood and nutrients to the wounds to heal them, it's the body's natural process. I've removed blood supply from your belly surgically. The blood that will heal that area has to come from your flanks to heal the wound and re-establish itself. Why on earth would anyone put a tourniquet on a wound that needs blood? Imagine you cut the tip of your finger, and you put a tourniquet at the knuckle. It starves that area of blood and delays healing. I tell people if you want to use a binder, do NOT make it tight, and hang your drains from it if you must...but I don't need drains anymore, so now, I tell people to just throw out their binders." Ha. I love it. I wrote about my office visit in my blog. And best yet, the quote is actually reasonable. It's only $2k more than a TT and BL. Finally, he told me I'd be in surgery maybe 5 hours. He does this a lot, he explained, and has gotten very swift. Others told me 7 hours for a lift and tummy tuck! Nationally-Known Plastic Surgeon Dr. Joseph Capella

I stand in front of a mirror in a small exam room around 3:00 pm, nude under a cotton robe. This place has to be fancy, I think to myself; Normally I was handed a stiff tissue paper smock. Even the floor here is carpeted, and not the cold linoleum of so many doctor's offices. It took three hours to get here because I got horridly lost trying to make the other surgeon's appointment, which needed to be canceled. I am a little road weary and feel ridiculously comforted by these small details. I look at myself, holding the robe closed. I see a girl with a thin neck and angular face, who sort of resembles me. She has a neat sunny, lemony bob haircut, blown straight until it's soft and shiny and moves with a turn of the head. I've seen this girl a lot the past few years, but am always startled that it's actually me. With the June humidity, I can see evidence of natural curls trying to reform by one temple, as if trying to remind the world that it had been there 100 lbs ago, and will not be forgotten and denied like the plus sized shirts I once had to sport. This has been a long journey; longer than most. Plastic surgery signals the end of this road. Three and a half years after surgery I am still dragging on and somehow prolonging the end, for no reason I can figure out. But I will put one foot in front of the other, and continue to try to decipher the internal love language between my body and emotions that produce food cravings as their child. I will never stop trying to intercept their messages. I believe this will occupy me the rest of my life. Fortunately, it has become a background murmur, and is manageable. This search for a plastic surgeon to tie up the loose ends, as it were, feels as much surreal as it does mechanical. I'm going through motions. I'm going through emotions. But I don't feel present. It's as if someone else is pulling me along, lifting my hand to pick up the phone to make an appointment, tearing off my clothes in rarely expressed comfort, with more faith in a surgeon I'd just met than men I take to my bed. I'd been to three plastic surgeons in the past year, looking for someone who would inspire me as both an artist and a surgical genius. So far, no dice. But the goal of a tummy tuck and a breast lift seems to be the last piece for lasting peace. Once I have this, I tell myself, I can't keep holding off on dating, waiting, ignoring I'm 32 and alive under this two-sizes-too-big skin that kept me alive during a slow and imminent suicide attempt. I can't keep hiding from life, or being angry when I'm hit on, or being sad when I'm alone, or continue to justify food as an acceptable source of intimacy. Once this surgery is done, I must live with it; it's me. There is no more fantasizing about how I could look. I'd look the way I would continue to look well into my elderly years. Kind of frightening for someone who spent her life since age 12 writing romance fantasies where she was a slim, normal bodied girl with no scars. I'm well aware of this body image issue, and I'm becoming aware that I'm keeping myself from the end so I don't have to face an unknown and possibly different future than the one I'd obsessed over and wrote about in as many incarnations as I had inches of unnecessary skin. Here I am at the last office I plan on being in for a while. Plastic surgeon #4. And I'm looking at my naked body, imagining what he will tell me that I haven't already heard before from the last 3 surgeons. I wonder if he will treat me like a self-indulgent headcase, or a low intelligence moneybag, or condescend when I play dumb and ask him the same basic questions I ask all my surgeons, like I haven't already done all my research. A funny thing is happening. I open my robe and stare at the body that I like more than I used to, a body I actually look at more than I used to. I see myself differently today, and I'm not sure why. I look at my large breasts, showing the effects of being a D cup and sagging more than I'd like, but relatively youthful and full. My belly actually has deep grooves in the abdomen of a 4 pack I have been building through core exercises, but which is muffled by the layer of belly fat I still need to lose. I poke at the indentations where my skin is attached to my muscle, amazed at the slightly distorted evidence of my health bursting through. I do work out; I finally noticed it shows. Perhaps it shows like an overstuffed favorite loveseat who has lost its buttons but still holds the pillowed indentations, but it shows. For the first time in my life, I think, "Wow. Not bad." I'm not looking at my flaws, like the dimpled orange peel flesh of my abdomen, or the way the flesh pulls out like silly putty from being stretched beyond saving. I'm looking at the beauty of me just as I am. It's comforting and weird. I turn to the side and am shocked to see that the normally flat butt I complain about and lack of lumbar curvature that lends one a perky bottom are actually acceptable, passable, and rather curvy. Totally no J Lo, but not a wan Kate Hudson either -- or the back of Jessica Simpson. Maybe slightly Julia Roberts, or a younger Diane Keaton. I lift the robe. Are you kidding me? Really? Is this what I look like? This isn't horrible at all. Certainly I need the post weight-loss nip/tuck but what the hell have I been--- Dr. Capella asks if I ready, voice distant through the door. "Come on in," I said loudly. He sits down on his rolling stool and we get right down to it. I open the robe. He does not fall off his stool, crying out in horror, clawing at his bleeding eyes. This is a great start. I feel something a little foreign wrap around me. Body confidence. I am in front of a huge mirror that covers the wall, fluorescent lighting and a man I just met is not only looking at my nude body, but touching it and seeing possibility that I would never even entertain. "This," Dr. Capella said, tracing a light line over a good handful of my midsection. "Is all coming out. You probably have about 15 lbs of skin on you, actually." Fifteen? Fifteen? I start doing calculations. I'm technically 15 lbs lighter and without the skin would probably be in a 12, not a 14. Holy crap! He goes on to tell me, " You're young, and you're going to not only heal well, but fast. You're a perfect candidate for the body lift and mastopexy." "Can I stay a D cup, do you think?" I ask nervously. Some doctors recommended I get a reduction and implants. He actually snorts like an amused horse. "Your breasts are gorgeous. Look. Here's what they'll look like. The skin is great." He proceeds to manipulate my breast and shows me the plump, round, perky profile I've been fantasizing about since I was 10 and got my first underwire bra. He goes on to look at my behind, flanks, back, and commented several times on the good condition of my fair skin (I believe it's because I turned vampire and simply never set foot in the sun). He shows me how when he pulls up the back of me, how it will dissolve the annoying roll under my bra, how contouring the top of my hips will accentuate my womanly curves just sitting there waiting to be unearthed. "I am interested in looking good in tailored clothes," I say, continuing to look at my body. "I've long given up on looking gorgeous naked, but I want to be smooth and lean and proportionate in clothes." I'm turning this way and that, sucking in my belly and marveling at the cut of my ribs showing for the first time in my life. Marveling that none of the bone-crushing shame at looking at myself, much less with another person there, was choking me. He gives a strange, rueful little laugh, shaking his head a fraction, and then catches himself. As if he knows I don't yet see what he sees. "You're going to be gorgeous. You've got relatively minimal sag, and you're young. I can give you a flat, contoured belly, smooth buttocks and thighs, and your breasts are going to look fantastic. You have the raw materials already here. And," he adds, gesturing to my face. "You're beautiful. Just...believe me. Total package. You are going to love the results." You're beautiful. I stared at him for a long moment. I expected a little bit of ego stroking. After all, for $15 - 20k for the procedures I wanted, I anticipate a bit of salesmanship. But there I was, flat-haired from driving in the humidity, purple circles under my eyes that my hastily applied concealer didn't actually conceal due to my late rise that morning. And I had to be one of thousands of women who walked through there. And why even bring my face into it? We're talking about my body. He's only getting paid from the neck down on me. I look back at the mirror. I believe him. The first person, really, I believe. I feel like, for the first time, I am being truly seen under the loose skin and the belly pouch and the arms that totally need a lift down the line. Someone actually sees me and I don't have to scream, or be funny, or be "life of the party", or overly intelligent, or anything else to get noticed. He isn't stroking my ego; I feel like a piece of clay out of which he sees the swan, and he knows exactly how to mold the clay to get the result. And he's humble enough not to slap my face off my skull for being dense about it. I dress and we reconvene in his office, looking at pictures again. "Now that I know what you look like before," he says. "Here's what you'll look like after." He proceeds to fill my eyes with round, perky, natural looking D cup breasts. Flat bellies that would allow me to wear hip huggers, belly shirts, hell, even a belt. Natural looking waists, not the "tube" effect of some body lifts. Scars in proportion to pubic hair line and belly button. Picture after picture after picture. Very few asymmetries. I think there was one out of the bunch. I found my surgeon. I might have found something else, too.

OK so, 3.5 years of this damn band (lol) and I just discovered Surgical Weight Loss 5 Day Pouch Test (thanks shoresexy!!!) I am excited beyond WORDS. I was looking for something like this to help re-tune my pouch. I have a fill scheduled on Friday June 6, and I'm still going to go whether this works or not and I'm back to being tight and full. Anyway, if anyone else wants to do this along with me, I'm starting liquids today. I'm sure I'll be posting by 4pm going "I WANT chicken WINGS" lol

My realignment is just about done, and I'm so glad. This weird penchant for losing control and letting my bad choices rule me is getting old, fast. I have fill scheduled for Friday and I'm going to go, regardless of how my band feels. My liquid diet didn't work out yesterday, because I was tired and lazy and didn't do a damned thing around the house. I finished feeling sorry for myself and fairly bounced out of the bed this morning. It always makes me smile when I'm doing my menu for the week. It takes so very little to nourish me, and I can't believe I'm picking veggie burgers and protein shakes. And looking forward to it! The band is truly amazing. My trigger this time was an abandonment/rejection. Someone I cared for has basically disappeared from my life. I said goodbye to him out loud this morning, and it's like a weight was lifted off me.

My realignment is just about done, and I'm so glad. This weird penchant for losing control and letting my bad choices rule me is getting old, fast. I have fill scheduled for Friday and I'm going to go, regardless of how my band feels. My liquid diet didn't work out yesterday, because I was tired and lazy and didn't do a damned thing around the house. I finished feeling sorry for myself and fairly bounced out of the bed this morning. It always makes me smile when I'm doing my menu for the week. It takes so very little to nourish me, and I can't believe I'm picking veggie burgers and protein shakes. And looking forward to it! The band is truly amazing. My trigger this time was an abandonment/rejection. Someone I cared for has basically disappeared from my life. I said goodbye to him out loud this morning, and it's like a weight was lifted off me.

Well there are certain constants in the world, like death, taxes, and the "math" of calorie consumption and food. You might want to calculate exactly what your body needs to survive. The more extra weight you have on you, the more calories your body will beg borrow or steal to keep your extra skin, extra veins, extra-hardworking heart functioning. It's just a given - if you have a bigger body, it needs more just to survive. I need 1600 calories to maintain, according to some calculator I found online. If I eat 1200 calories, and exercise and burn off 300, I have a net of 900 calories. And in essence I'm depriving my body of 700 calories a day of energy it has to look at my fat a$$ for :thumbup: (And it HAS indeed been going to my butt for extra stores...thank GOD) If I do that for one week, 700 calories X 7 days = 4900 calories - I've just lost a pound and a half. But the caveat is, when you exercise, you WILL stimulate your body to wake up and do more, so your hunger will probably get a little more noticeable, just feed it good stuff. The weight will come off. The numbers will owe you if you're tracking what you're eating. Your body is designed NOT to lose weight. Every time you hit a plateau, it's your body getting used to the routine you put it in. It's amazing, really. That's why they say you need to switch up your exercise and your eating when you hit a rut. If you're walking the same road, the same pace, the same amount of time each week, and you eat the same foods, your body WILL catch on and be like "A HA! Now I get it. We're not losing our precious body weight...I understand now." If you do a new exercise that works different muscle groups, like Yoga, or Pilates, or a dance exercise video, your body's all confused and will drop weight because it's not used to what you're doing.

shoresexy thanks for that link!! OMG that's awesome! The fact that I can still eat most breads bugs me...I'm going to try to get back to newbie feeling :thumbup:

Lord I can't tolerate Breakfast....and the few days I actually want to eat first thing in the morning, I am hungrier all day! I usually eat lunch and dinner and do a horrible dance between justifying calories in small portioned food (ohhh like cupcakes) because otherwise with the cup of soup and wheat roll (even with a pat of promise margarine) I'm only at 400 calories for the day! Then I usually go way over :thumbup: But that's my issue. lulu, I have been stepping up my Yoga and have noticed a huge increase in my appetite accordingly. Your body wants the food, and it's not gaining fat but sounds like your gaining muscle! People asked me last week if I lost weight, and even my one suit jacket with the "tight" button was looser - evidence that I'm putting on muscle which is AWESOME!!! It means I'm burning calories all day long without trying. Keep up your routine as long as you are not gaining and you are seeing an improvement in your shape. If you continue to stall and you're not dropping sizes or pounds, you might have calorie creep somewhere in your regimen.

Syd, I get that pain if I drink a glass of wine. By the end of the glass, it hurts. But it doesn't hurt before then. I would mention it to your doctor...you might have an ulcer (but I'm no doctor so don't go by what I say). My friend had them regularly and milk/dairy soothed it. Salty's no good anyway, you retain tons of water! If you're having acid reflux/heartburn and it's aggravated by certain foods, try drinking a mug of warm Water with a little lemon in it. Yes, lemon! Believe it or not acid reflux is caused by your stomach not having enough acid in it, and it gets very alkaline and causes the bubbling flare ups. I drink that when I'm feeling burpy and acidy and unhappy - usually soothes my stomach right down. If you're fine until you eat those foods, I'd worry about something going on in your stomach. Either way, call your doc.

Hi Andi...wow you sound frustrated! First of all, you did get the band done, so let's focus on a solution :thumbup: It is a fantastic tool, but it's very individual with everyone, so we need to figure out what's going on with yours. The fact that you're throwing up after every meal is not a good thing. It's unhealthy to keep aggravating your esophagus with your stomach acid, it's a strain on your system to throw up, and no healthy person should ever be living on what you say you're eating. The way you are currently existing with your band is unhealthy. If you're not forgetting any high calorie foods that could be stalling your weight loss, then with all your exercise and eating you're in starvation mode. You can be heavy and be malnourished - and I'm very very concerned for your nutrition right now... The first step is to take deep breaths and know that you CAN fix this problem. This is fixable. Part of it will take an attitude adjustment, a willingness to do the things you don't want to do in order to get better. Like consider a small unfill. You will not pig out, you will learn how to balance. You have to at least try, and stop running the mental tape that says "I love food too much I'll eat and eat and eat I can't do it I can't do it" Of COURSE you'd fail, you keep programming yourself to! It sounds like you've never had a healthy balance of band restriction and hunger, so of course you're flipping out and saying you don't want to be unfilled (because you don't trust yourself). But you definitely need a doctor's care. If you don't want an unfill, start by making a appointment with your doctor. If she insists on unfilling you, let her. If you go back a month later and have gained, she will fill you. That's how this works - you have to surrender to the process, sister! :tt2: You're making yourself nuts by believing you can never get control of food. You CAN. Just not alone. So go see your doctor, start logging the food you're eating - all of it - and when you throw up. It's a simple game of numbers, Andi...you're either under calories or over calories, and the band is the belt. You can't continue this way! Email / PM me if you want. I really want to know how you do!! {{HUGS}}

This week-and-a-half-long food bender is finally over. Thank GOD. I ripped ff my pyjamas this morning and said "OK, we're done wallowing, let's deal with what we did this week and make a plan." One pound. I only gained one pound?? I even had Taco Bell last night! Good God! And I bet it's the salt that's keeping me at 194. My body keeps giving me gifts. The band is really amazing. Had I done this kind of bender before the band, I'd easily gain 5 - 10 lbs. So I have one day left in May. I started at 199.5, I'm now 194.5, and I am fasting for a physical and may stay on liquids the rest of the day. I wanted to get to 191 with how fast I had dropped the weight the first week in May, but I'm QUITE happy with 5 lbs lost. Let's see if I can get to 194.0 tomorrow, and then be on a solid band diet through next Friday, for my fill with Dr. Ren. As for why I went on the food binge, (because I always want to know why and understand, I never accept "I don't know" as the final answer) I think it relates directly to a sense of abandonment. Someone I cared for very much has left me abruptly. The eating began after the first two weeks of not hearing from him - as if he disappeared. It's always been juuust at the edge of my consciousness, feeling rejected, feeling unworthy, and turning to food to comfort me. I have decided to get over that now. It ran its little course, and I am now back at the helm. Amazing, though, that the band really deflected the kind of damage I could have done. One pound. LOL. I love it! I LOVE MY BAND!!!!!

This week-and-a-half-long food bender is finally over. Thank GOD. I ripped ff my pyjamas this morning and said "OK, we're done wallowing, let's deal with what we did this week and make a plan." One pound. I only gained one pound?? I even had Taco Bell last night! Good God! And I bet it's the salt that's keeping me at 194. My body keeps giving me gifts. The band is really amazing. Had I done this kind of bender before the band, I'd easily gain 5 - 10 lbs. So I have one day left in May. I started at 199.5, I'm now 194.5, and I am fasting for a physical and may stay on liquids the rest of the day. I wanted to get to 191 with how fast I had dropped the weight the first week in May, but I'm QUITE happy with 5 lbs lost. Let's see if I can get to 194.0 tomorrow, and then be on a solid band diet through next Friday, for my fill with Dr. Ren. As for why I went on the food binge, (because I always want to know why and understand, I never accept "I don't know" as the final answer) I think it relates directly to a sense of abandonment. Someone I cared for very much has left me abruptly. The eating began after the first two weeks of not hearing from him - as if he disappeared. It's always been juuust at the edge of my consciousness, feeling rejected, feeling unworthy, and turning to food to comfort me. I have decided to get over that now. It ran its little course, and I am now back at the helm. Amazing, though, that the band really deflected the kind of damage I could have done. One pound. LOL. I love it! I LOVE MY BAND!!!!!

It's funny. When I first decided/was approved for the band, I couldn't contain myself. I wanted the new life immediately, I wanted it now now now and I could not stop thinking about what life would be like 2, 4 years from having the band inserted. Looking back at my journey, I can see the whole bigger lesson in patience. It happened in its own time, my wishing and obsessing did nothing to hurry it, only making it seem longer. Now I'm facing plastic surgery....facing it eagerly, I should say, and I just figured out that it will take me longer to comfortably afford it. I wanted it done by December, for my 33rd birthday, but what's another 3 months? The same kind of panicky there-has-to-be-a-way-I-can-have-what-I-want feeling that plagued me as a morbidly obese woman tried to grab me again with money and charging / financing this surgery before I was really ready to. I can't believe I'm so zen about it. I guess the patience lesson is finally being learned Oh my god I'm gonna have Plastic Surgery in the spring!! What a killer summer I'm going to have!!

It's funny. When I first decided/was approved for the band, I couldn't contain myself. I wanted the new life immediately, I wanted it now now now and I could not stop thinking about what life would be like 2, 4 years from having the band inserted. Looking back at my journey, I can see the whole bigger lesson in patience. It happened in its own time, my wishing and obsessing did nothing to hurry it, only making it seem longer. Now I'm facing plastic surgery....facing it eagerly, I should say, and I just figured out that it will take me longer to comfortably afford it. I wanted it done by December, for my 33rd birthday, but what's another 3 months? The same kind of panicky there-has-to-be-a-way-I-can-have-what-I-want feeling that plagued me as a morbidly obese woman tried to grab me again with money and charging / financing this surgery before I was really ready to. I can't believe I'm so zen about it. I guess the patience lesson is finally being learned :thumbup: Oh my god I'm gonna have Plastic Surgery in the spring!! :tt2: What a killer summer I'm going to have!!

EEEEE steph you look AWESOME!!! And Kat, I was so happy to hear that little victory. I have no idea what it's like to have a flat belly, I have always had a Buddha belly as a kid, and then just hanging flab as a teenager. Looks like unless a financial miracle happens I am planning plastic surgery in spring of 2009 - BUT the good news is I will be debt free (except car loan and student loan). So it's a huge step to look forward to. I refuse to get the loan until I'm clear of everything else. Congrats again ladies!! Steph...what's the biggest surprise of being in the flatlands?

Heidi I was there!! I cried all the time, I swore i was the only person on the planet for whom the band wouldn't work. DO NOT PANIC :sad: When you get the magic fill, and it can take up to 6 fills, you will know it without a doubt. Until then, remind yourself it's a journey, forgive yourself, and try to pig out on salads and vegetables if you can't control your portions. Or try to do THAT more than "what you've always done." Even controlling 2 out of 3 meals a day is better than giving up - and exercising daily, no matter how short or light, is even better. Give yourself a chance! :frown:

I'm only 32 but I have a very heavy, low hanging brow, have had it since birth. I always pull my muscles behind my ears so my eyes look open. When I am relaxed, people on the street stop me and tell me to "smile, it's not that bad" and I'm thinking...I AM quite happy!! LOL I actually get a muscle ache behind my ears from overcorrecting this issue. I thought a browlift would be a great permanent fix for me. I thought Botox lasted about 4 - 6 months? I heard the cost was about 500 - 600 a session, that's $100/month! Am I right about these numbers or am I misinformed??

I am living for my fill next week. Now that plastic surgery is imminent, I budgeted for it, I've got my last 2 consults before scheduling it, I find my food addiction is rearing its head again. I was horrendous over the weekend...I wasn't bothered by the pizza I ate on Sunday, but yesterday I ate another calzone, and then went to Baskin Robbins to get a small chocolate shake. Which as you know, is 16 ounces of ice cream milk and fat. Yes, it was delicious. Yes, I hammered the whole thing and could have eaten more. I'm disappointed in the total gluttony of yesterday. I haven't done that in a long time...I was alone, and wanted to eat alone...I just had gotten Aunt Flo, too, so I was crampy and watery-eyed Complete emotional eating. The previous week I'd had Hooters wings, too. Usuaully it's once a week I'm falling off the wagon (or just deciding to eat some damned delicious food!) but I feel like since I'm facing the "end" of weight loss, I'm FLINGING myself off. Anyone else get like that? Today I'm prepared with yogurt, cherries, Fiber fortified applesauce and walnuts to clean me out and get my stomach to shrink. I had minor restriction yesterday so I don't know if its cause of Aunt Flo or if I really DO have a small leak. I was hungry and seemed a bottomless pit! Then again, I wonder if it's because of the psychological implications of getting plastic surgery, and not having the excuse of "oh I'm not finished yet"...like I'm subconsciously delaying the end.

You guys are more than welcome. So I ate two pieces of cheese pizza last night with no problem. Guess what? I no longer feel guilty. That's the best part. I should have stopped at one, I didn't, I'm not a horrible monster. I was hungry. And my band needs filling. And it wasn't four pieces! I did feel pleasantly full afterwards. That's how normal people eat. (They were small/medium pieces, not the giant NY style) It's great to make decisions, good or bad, and be fully cognizant of the consequences. Separating my self-esteem from what I put in my mouth is something I just do meal by meal

Lexy, I noticed whenever I'm on liquids for a day or two, even post-fill, I get the same way. It's your body's way of cleansing and flushing when it has no solid food to deal with. It's gonna all be soft til you're on solids again And yes I get cramps and "noisy movement" too. I think of it as a power wash, hehe. Although when you say your tummy hurts, is it your stomach (band) or is it your bowels? Another thing is that you were on pain meds for a few days, which typically constipates. Your body may be going the extra mile to right itself after being slowed down for a bit, not to mention the insult of invasive surgery. Are you taking your Gas X?? Finally, Beans make me gassy (bleh). I would try some low fat cottage cheese, which is nice and soft but can maybe help with some binding.

Thanks Marisa! I just checked him out - I will see if he can get me in for a consult Friday afternoon June 6. If he can't, I may put him on the back burner. I gotta save my PTO for surgery! lol Pagan - thanks for the recommendation, too. After this round of surgeons, if I'm still not ready to put my life in someone's hands, I'm going to go for NY consults.

So today I slipped into (for the second time) a pair of corduroy bell bottom hip huggers that I bought 6 years ago from Hot Topic. They were sexy little musician/hipster/youthy pants I always wanted to wear. I still can't believe they slide up over my thighs and butt. This must be the body dysmorphia I hear about. I still feel huge, every time I pick up size 14 pants I really think, there is no way my body will fit into that. Lexy screams about my little legs and I honestly have to catch myself from disagreeing, I genuinely think...are you insane? LOOK AT MY CALVES. But Mother taught me to take compliments with a polite "Thank you", even if you think said compliment is a steamy pile of BS :blushing: Anyway - I'm wearing them now, and feeling rather amazed that I DO finally fit into these "13" pants (prolly 14). I think I'm going to buy a size 10 "something" and start practicing again. It was really motivating. I can't count the number of times I was trying them on over the years and they wouldn't go past my knees...then they were half way up my thighs...then I streettttcchhhedd and got my ass in them....now it slides right up, buttons. Do you guys have any "goal" outfits?

That's definitely not correct.... :cool2: When I was banded in 2004 I had BCBS, they do indeed cover it. My friend Lexy just got banded on Monday and has United Healthcare and they covered it. Brace yourself. Insurance companies lie. Keep at it!