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A blog by wendytip

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And I am telling you...I'm not as fat!

This is to sang to the tune of "And I am telling you." Now, make sure you sing it with all the rightous indignation and happiness that you can muster! And I am telling you, I’m not as fat. Not as big as I was before, Not gonna’ be that way anymore. No, no, no way! No, no, no, no way! Not the big girl that I once was. Not as big as I once was. Oh yes, I’m gonna’ be free. I’m losing. I’m losing. And you, and you, and you might not recognize me. And I am telling you, I’m not as chubby. Even though my big butt was bubbly. There’s just no way, no way. Got tired of being so large. But now, I have taken charge. Yes, I got banded no doubt. Don’t you say it’s the easy way out? ‘Cause, I can’t have carbonated drinks ever, ever again! No, no, no, no, no, no. My ass will no longer be, the size of a gigantic R.V! And I mean there’s no way. No, no, no, no way I’m buying that plus size. Not buying size 22. You see there’s no way. There’s no way. Burn those fat clothes. Yell, scream and shout, Hey look at me! I’m a skinny girl now! Put on my running shoes, break out the treadmill I’m not going to quit. No, there’s no way I will. And I am telling you. I’m wearing a thong. I’m gonna by a bikini too! Who knows I might even buy two! No, no, no, no way. No, no, no, no way I’m living this fat life. I’m not shopping at Lane Bryant. Yes, I’m gonna be free. And you, and you, and you, you won’t recognize me.

January 16, 2009

2

Skinny Women

Hey guys, I wrote this piece about 8 years ago, but it still holds true for me. I thought you might enjoy. Skinny Women Skinny women how I hate them. How I love to berate them. It’s not that I’m not sympathetic, but size 9, FAT?- now that’s pathetic! They pat their tummies all nice and flat and say, “Do these pants make my butt look fat?” I sweetly reply, “Not to be rude, but those very pants ... make your ass look huge!” A skinny woman I’ll surely beat if one more says; “I forgot to eat.” “You forgot to eat...now how can that be? Isn’t that like forgetting to breathe?” When they do break down and decide to dine, listen closely and you can hear them whine: “Dry broiled fish.” “No dressing, please.” “No beer, just a water with lemon for me.” “You know I never eat red meat, so a bite of liver, for me is a treat.” “French fries? Onion rings?-Take them away.” “Chocolate mousse?...I’ll take fruit sorbet.” I see television shows like “Ally McBeal” I think to myself, “Can this chick be real?” How in the world does she stay so thin? Does food come out? Does food go in? And the beautiful Renee in “Bridget Jones”, is supposed to be fat or merely “big boned?” “Full figured” gals are back in style? Well, I haven’t seen one in quite a while. The problem here, should I venture a guess... A size 12 is average-not Reubenesque! You see, I’m honest and nothing more, and I find false modesty a tedious bore. Cause I tell you sugar, if I were svelte I’d tuck in my shirt and wear a belt. I’d have leather pants and a halter top. Everything I owned would be “mini” or “cropped.” I’d buy black garter belts and maybe a thong. I’d dress like a whore all the day long. I’d say, “Hey everybody, look at me! I’m looking good at 123!” My friends would say, “Can you believe that? I liked her better when she was fat!” “You liked me much better when I was what?” “Did you mention the “F” word? That’s just what I thought! When I was fat, I was so out of place with my great personality and pretty face. Now I’m much better. I’m better I say! Step back non-believers! Out of my way!” As I sashay by on stiletto heels, leaving them to guess what’s been “bought” and what’s “real”. But enough flights of fancy of this fantasy. I’m sure that I am, and will always be me. And “me’s” pretty good. Yep, “ME”- that’’ll do... but... I would like some thighs you can see daylight through. Just kidding. (Not really) Bear with me my friend, for soon I’ll be finished; this tirade will end. It’s just that I struggle and struggle some more, You’d think I would learn; (that’s what therapy’s for.) When it’s all been hashed out. When it’s all said and done; I like me a lot. I’m really quite fun. I know what’s important I do know what counts, and it’s not what I weigh measured out pound and ounce. I just need to vent every once in a while, and give all the fat girls a reason to smile. Wendy Tippens

March 6, 2009

2

Help!

The other day my husband tried to kill me. To his credit, he was very clever in his attempt. He hatched his evil plan innocently enough by encouraging me to work out with him at a “spin class.” He approached me earlier in the week and asked me if I would like to go to spin class with him. I expressed my concerns. “I’m afraid I’m not in shape for this.” “What if I become so exhausted that I fall off the bike and humiliate myself?” “I don’t look good in bike shorts.” “The only biking I’ve ever done is when my car has been in the shop and it’s imperative that I get to my destination…my destination being Dairy Queen, or someplace like that.” “You know I hate sweating…in particular the dreaded thigh sweating that will inevitably occur during this class.” None of these excuses worked…and besides, my husband is super HOT, so he was able to convince me to give it a try. Oh, you should have seen him making sure that I was ready for class; getting me a towel, adjusting my bike seat, making sure that my bike’s handle bars were placed just so, checking the resistance on the bike. Little did I know that he was he was getting me ready, alright…getting me ready to DIE! The music started. The too- peppy- for- her own good- impossibly well conditioned- instructor arrived, and we got on our bikes. I was great…for about 30 seconds; then it hit me. My undoing wasn’t to be any of my aforementioned concerns, no, my undoing was going to be the tiny, yet rock hard bike seat that was cutting into my ass. I looked at my husband. He smiled at me sweetly. I chose to ignore the searing pain in my butt. Alas, the more we peddled, the happier everyone looked and the more intense the pain became. I looked around. No one else seemed to be having the same problem as myself. Looking across the room, I spied a women whose ass was almost ass big as mine. She sort of reminded me of me, but with one major exception; she was peddling happily. I wondered: was she faking it? Did she have an “I love exercise” Mission Impossible mask on? You know, the ones that look just like your actual face, but they’re really only a ruse, meant to fool people? What I really wanted to know was how all of these people could NOT be in the same pain as me. What really boggled my brain was how all of the skinny people could not be in pain. I mean, let’s face it; if you’ve got a big, well padded behind that should work to your advantage, but I was dying, and how all those riders with NO padding could take it, was beyond me. I turned to my husband and said, “I can’t take this. My ass is killing me. My husband then told me something that I can only assume was meant to relieve me. “Well, you won’t be sitting the whole time.” And friends, even though I hated life at that very moment, don’t think that I didn’t find the hysterical absurdity in his statement. I began to laugh wildly. After I finally caught my breath, I said, “You don’t really think I’m going to be able to actually stand up on this bike and peddle do you?” However, as my ass began to go numb I decided to try and stand and peddle in order to alleviate the pain. It was sort of like trying to hoist a 200 pound bag of wet sand. I sat back down and peddled some more. Surely I could make it through this. After 5 more excruciating minutes I turned back to my husband, who was now looking not as much hot as diabolical.” I can’t do this.” I said again. “Is your resistance all the way down he asked?” “It’s not my resistance,” I all but screamed, “It’s my ass! My ass is numb! Numb! Do you hear me?” He looked at me calmly, “Hang in there. You’ll get used to it.” I would’ve stopped peddling the bike right then and gotten of f, but at that point the entire lower half of my body had lost feeling. I mentally willed my legs to stop turning the peddles. As I hobbled off the bike, and staggered out of the room I turned to my killer/husband. “Oh, I’ll never get used to it…NEVER.”

February 16, 2009

5

Skinny Women

Hello Everyone, I wrote this piece about 8 years ago, and it still holds true for me. I thought you might enjoy. Skinny Women Skinny women how I hate them. How I love to berate them. It’s not that I’m not sympathetic, but size 9, FAT?- now that’s pathetic! They pat their tummies all nice and flat and say, “Do these pants make my butt look fat?” I sweetly reply, “Not to be rude, but those very pants ... make your ass look huge!” A skinny woman I’ll surely beat if one more says; “I forgot to eat.” “You forgot to eat...now how can that be? Isn’t that like forgetting to breathe?” When they do break down and decide to dine, listen closely and you can hear them whine: “Dry broiled fish.” “No dressing, please.” “No beer, just a water with lemon for me.” “You know I never eat red meat, so a bite of liver, for me is a treat.” “French fries? Onion rings?-Take them away.” “Chocolate mousse?...I’ll take fruit sorbet.” I see television shows like “Ally McBeal” I think to myself, “Can this chick be real?” How in the world does she stay so thin? Does food come out? Does food go in? And the beautiful Renee in “Bridget Jones”, is supposed to be fat or merely “big boned?” “Full figured” gals are back in style? Well, I haven’t seen one in quite a while. The problem here, should I venture a guess... A size 12 is average-not Reubenesque! You see, I’m honest and nothing more, and I find false modesty a tedious bore. Cause I tell you sugar, if I were svelte I’d tuck in my shirt and wear a belt. I’d have leather pants and a halter top. Everything I owned would be “mini” or “cropped.” I’d buy black garter belts and maybe a thong. I’d dress like a whore all the day long. I’d say, “Hey everybody, look at me! I’m looking good at 123!” My friends would say, “Can you believe that? I liked her better when she was fat!” “You liked me much better when I was what?” “Did you mention the “F” word? That’s just what I thought! When I was fat, I was so out of place with my great personality and pretty face. Now I’m much better. I’m better I say! Step back non-believers! Out of my way!” As I sashay by on stiletto heels, leaving them to guess what’s been “bought” and what’s “real”. But enough flights of fancy of this fantasy. I’m sure that I am, and will always be me. And “me’s” pretty good. Yep, “ME”- that’’ll do... but... I would like some thighs you can see daylight through. Just kidding. (Not really) Bear with me my friend, for soon I’ll be finished; this tirade will end. It’s just that I struggle and struggle some more, You’d think I would learn; (that’s what therapy’s for.) When it’s all been hashed out. When it’s all said and done; I like me a lot. I’m really quite fun. I know what’s important I do know what counts, and it’s not what I weigh measured out pound and ounce. I just need to vent every once in a while, and give all the fat girls a reason to smile.

March 6, 2009

3

The Trials, Tribulations and Mental Anguish of Going to the GYM!

I hate working out. I do. I am not one of those, “endorphin rush water bottle carrying gym bag toting heart monitoring yeah, I feel so great after a few hours of sweating” people. Truth be told; if I didn’t have to work out- I wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t miss it one damn bit. But, I do have to work out. I’m making it part of my lifestyle, now. I hate it, but I don’t have a choice, so I do it. So, I go to the gym the other day for a step class. I know that I may not be able to get through it, but hey, I gotta start somewhere. I’m waiting outside the step class and I’m surrounded by all these flippy- tailed little college girls. God, I hate them! I’m just being honest. No, I don’t know them, and yes, I know I’m being irrational. I’m sure they’re very nice girls, but that doesn’t matter; I hate them anyway. They get on my nerves. And they get on my nerves because they have flat non existent stomachs. They have little bitty behinds…my behind has never been that small…not even when I was a baby! Worst of all, they are so joyously happy about getting to that step class! I wish I could beat the hell out of them with their monogrammed gym bags. I go into the class and get my step…none of those little platform, riser thingys that elevate the step. I’m sure the step alone, with its three inches in height will be more than enough for me. I move to the back row; where all fat people work out. I think that if I position myself just right behind a few of those skinny girls that I may not be able to see myself in the mirror. I HATE those mirrors. A friend of mine told me once that the mirrors are there so that I can check my “form.” Hell, I don’t need to check my form. I just need to remain upright. I you hear my fat ass hit the floor then you’ll know that my “form” is in trouble. I do find, however, that if I stand right where the mirrors come together that I look half my size…maybe these mirrors aren’t so bad after all. We begin to work out, and I’m good…for a few minutes. I find that if I do most of the step routines without the step itself, then I can keep myself from passing out…which doesn’t really make it a “step” class does it? It sort of just makes it an…aerobic…floor exercises class. Just when I’m feeling okay, I look over and there is someone with 3 of those little platform things under their step; 3! That step was up to her knees! About that time, the instructor says, “For those of you who want to take it up a notch, you can give a little jump on your step.” Then that masochistic woman with the 3 platform thingys does just that; she “jumps” up on her step! I decided to finish out the step class with my eyes closed. It was awkward, and I had a hard time keeping my balance, but it was worth it!

February 13, 2009

3

10 more lbs. gone forever, for a grand total off?38lbs!

I went to today for my 3rd weigh in/fill and was down another 10 pounds! Wooooo-hooooo! Every time I zip up a size 18, I still can’t believe it! It’s strange that I can pretty much predict down to the pound how much I’m going to loose every month…and yes, I only weight once a month. My mom asked me if I’d lost as much as I was hoping for, and I told her, “yes,” because even though I was hoping to loose 12-15 lbs, I knew that was unrealistic, and I knew going in that I was going to be down about 10 lbs. And really, when you think about it, what difference is two more pounds going to make? It’s not. It’s not like people won’t notice that you’ve lost 38 pounds, but they WILL notice 40? A steady loss of 2 lbs. a week is fine with me, hell, it’s more than fine; it’s GREAT! So, here’s what’s weird…and this is sooooo difficult to explain to people who haven’t been banded. At my last fill, I actually felt real restriction, so for the first time in my life, I don’t obsess over food. I don’t binge. I don’t eat and eat and eat and then eat some more. Food has become a non-issue. When anyone asks where I want to eat, I tell them I don’t care; because I really don’t. It’s just not a big deal. So, what’s the problem? Here’s the problem: For almost my entire life I’ve been an addict. My eating disorder had as much of a hold on me as heroin would have on a junkie, or booze would have on an alcoholic. Now, when I’m not hungry, or I’m satisfied…when I’m not “using” food, I associate that feeling with “binging”. Does that make sense? It’s just that it’s been that way for SO long, that my mind has trouble accepting that I’m satisfied and not hungry, and it’s NOT because I’ve eaten everything in sight…it’s because I’m banded. So, I’ve walked around these past 5 weeks thinking, “Shit! I can’t believe I did that! How could I have eaten all that food? How could I go back to “using?” Then, I have to actively remind myself that I haven’t gone back to my old ways; I haven’t binged. It’s just strange…a good strange, but very unsettling all the same. And, get this; I go in and tell my nurse that I don’t think I need a fill, but I’m not sure. She hooks me up and has me drink the “stuff,” and she says, “Oh yeah, you need a fill.” I ask her how she can tell, and she says that she can tell by how easily the liquid is going down. So, as I’m getting ready to leave, she reminds me that I won’t be back for three months, but if I need a fill I need to let them know. My thing is this; I won’t know if I need a fill. I didn’t know this time! I tell her this and she says, “Well if you find yourself getting hungry, then you know you need a fill.” O.K…I didn’t get hungry this time. And I won’t get hungry next time. I guess what I do, is just push it out of my head and ignore it. I joke around that I’m really good at being hungry, but I guess, it’s not a joke. It’s kind of pathetic in a way; I’m so used to being hungry that it’s normal now. Ah well, I guess that’s a concept only a former fat kid can grasp. At any rate, I will close saying this: My life is so GREAT that I can’t believe it’s MINE!

March 26, 2009

4

2nd weigh in and fill; down 12 more pounds!

I went for my second weigh in, and was hoping for at least 9 more pounds so that I would have a total weight loss of 25 pounds. I stepped on the scale, and much to my delerious delight found that I had dropped 12 pounds all total! I'm telling you, I just stared at that number; 243. I thought I was going to cry. 28 pounds in just under 8 weeks. It's been so long since I've dipped below 250, that I can't even believe it's my weight on the read out...well, except for the fact that I had to dine on broth and jello for the Christmas holidays, and I've given up sweets, and I don't drink sodas anymore, and I monitor everything that goes into my mouth, and I don't eat fried foods or almost any bread...except for those things, I can't believe it's my weight. My doctor didn't do my fill; his nurse did, and I could hardly feel a thing! So, in the future I will be making all of my appt. with her. One of the best things is that I can finally feel restriction...praise God! I've never been so happy to not be able to eat hardly any of my breakfast in my life! However, the best thing about all of this is not really the weight loss; it's the peace of mind that I have, now. I don't wake up and think about what I'm going to eat, or when I can eat again, how much I'm going to eat, when I'll lose that battle...Even though, I will never say never again about being fat (I've learned my lesson there,) I will say, "Not very damn likely!"

February 18, 2009

2

Month 6 and 64 lbs. lighter!

I went for my 6 month check up and I'm down 64 pounds! I can hardly believe that next month I'll FINALLY be in ONEDERLAND! I'm not sure what I'm going to do to celebrate...of course just being there is really enough! I haven't gotten around to posting any progress pix lately, but I'll do it this weekend. If anyone is interested, check out my video blog on "youtube;" That Crazy Fat Chick Episodes 1-3. Now, I gotta tell you, I pretty much say what's on my mind, so "watcher be warned," I guess.

June 26, 2009

3

Tomorrow!

I get my first fill tomorrow, and I'm so excited! I can't wait to get on those scales! I'm hoping to be 15 pounds down, but that may be a bit too ambitious since I'm not quite a month out. Whatever, though. I don't care. I've been very diligent, so I know I'll have a great loss. The weight will come off as it's supposed to come off; no biggie. I'm just sooooo enjoying this! I love seeing how much looser my clothes are every week, but more than anything I LOVE the fact that I'm not thinking about what to eat every single moment of every day!

January 19, 2009

3

WOOOOOO-HOOOOOO! My first fill and 16 pounds gone!

I went for my first fill today, and bounded onto the scales. I was ready! I took my shoes off and Tiffany (my favorite nurse, EVER,) said, "Socks too." I was like, "Honey, if I could get by with it, I'd be on the scales, BUCK NAKED! So, I was hoping for a 15 pound loss, but got 16! Elation! Bliss! Joy! I go in for my first fill and made the grave mistake of looking where my Dr. stuck the needle in. It didn't hurt, but I have a serious aversion to "looking" at needles or blood. So, I look away; quickly, and just when I think I won't puke and/or pass out, my Dr. says, "I need you to sit up and come over here to the x-ray machine. OMG, I can kind of see the needle poking out of my port. I look away; quickly...but not quickly enough. I'm standing there drinking that stuff, and just when I'm hoping that I won't puke and/or pass out, there's the needle, on the x-ray screen! I'm hanging in there, and looking at the ceiling, and finally I say, "Is it okay if I sit down?" My Doctor tells me that I can sit because we're through, and just when I think that maybe I won't puke and/or pass out, he comes over and just pops that needle out! Jeez! But, after some apple juice I was good to go. Nothing could get me down after that; not even learning that I have to be on liquids until tomorrow and I don't get to have any spaghetti tonight. Oh well, no worries. I'm just glad to be on this journey!

January 21, 2009

7

Just happy to be here!

YESSSSS! In about 3 hours, I officially be "post op!" I don't know if it's my fab doctor, my attitude, or both, but I feel AMAZING! Yes, yes, through gas pains and all, I am...ecstatic! My doctor didn't put me on any kind of pre op diet, but he did require that I have only liquids for 2 weeks, and do I CARE? No, I don't. I'll happily chug that chicken broth with a smile on my face! I've waited a long time for this chance, so I'm just happy to be here!

December 23, 2008

1

WOOOO-HOOOOO, aka; the story of the gray jeans.

O.K, so I'm one week out and I have to go for my one week check up thingy. So, I get up this morning and I think, "Hey, why don't I try on "those" jeans. But first, the back story on "those jeans." I went to spend a few days w/my mom in Atlanta, just before Christmas. This was a few days before my banding, and I wanted to get some last minute Christmas shopping done. Well, we get to the Mall of Georgia and the jeans I have one have a little worn place on my inner thigh, and my fat is smushing through the hole and rubbing a raw place on me. I figure my best course of action is to buy a clearance pair of jeans and change. I look around and finally find a pair of grey Liz Claiborne jeans for ten bucks. They're a size 22 which I figure may be a bit big, but I don't care; I can beat that price. So, I buy them and go to the dressing room to change, and guess what? That's right...they're too small! God, I couldn't believe it! I was determined to get them on. I pushed fat in. I sucked in. I pulled them up high on my hips and leaned forward. I kind of squatted down a few times hoping to loosen them up. I checked the tag to make sure I hadn't picked up an 18 by mistake. I hadn't. I tried some more. I would have lain down in the dressing room floor, but there wasn't enough room...plus I was afraid if I did get them zipped that I wouldn't be able to get back up. FINALLY…probably because I was sweating at this point, and maybe had burned just enough calories to get that zipper closed…I got them zipped. Yeah, I got them zipped and then I did this weird, stiff legged, John Wayne, walk out of the dressing room to get that shopping done. Well, as it turned out, the jeans were so tight (I not kidding, here,) that I though I was going to be sick, so I had to go and buy another pair of jeans. Okay…so this morning, I think I’ll try those jeans. I KNOW they won’t zip, but I’m sure they’ll be looser. Sooooooo, I put them on…and they ZIPPED! THEY ZIPPED! THEY ZIPPED, THEY ZIIIIPPPPPED! It wasn’t even like it was “iffy.” They just zipped right up! When I get to the Doctor’s office and weigh in, I find that I’ve lost 8 lbs! I gave a big WOOOOO-HOOOOO right there on the scales. 8lbs in one week…not too shabby.

December 29, 2008

3

Merry Christmas!

Here I am! 4 days post op and drinking that soup! And, let me just say that in NO WAY am I going to complain about anything...but...DAMN, I love chocolate! I'm not eating it...and I'm not drinking it...although I have given the latter some serious though. I did smell some of it though. I don't know if you can normally smell it through the wrapper or if I just have super sensitive olfactory senses. But I did...I gave it a good whiff...and then I back slowly away. And would I do all this again, and at this time of the year? Oh yeah! Without a doubt!

December 25, 2008

1

Weigh in number 2!

Okay, here we go; it's time for official weigh in number 2! I'm hoping for 9lbs. off or more and that will put me at a total of 25 lbs. in just under 2 months. This time I'm looking away...far, far away when the doctor does my fill. I don't want my joyous occassion to be ruined by me passing out and hitting the floor!

February 17, 2009

2

Hello Everyone!

I’m ready! God, I have been waiting for this day for so long. I’ve struggled and struggled and struggled with my weight since I was 10 years old! I can remember reaching my goal weight of 77 lbs. on Weight Watchers, and thinking that once I reached that goal I would be “normal.” And, I don’t think this is a “magic bullet”, and that the moment I have my procedure that all of my “issues” will miraculously disappear, but I do think that my banding will take what seems like a monumentally impossible struggle and make it “do-able”…and that’s all I want, and all I really need…just a little help. But, on a more excited note: I CAN’T WAIT! I am sooooo ready. So, onto the questions: Was your banding what you expected? Better? Worse? Did it make it substantially easier to lose the weight? How difficult was it for you to do without water with your meals? What is your average weight loss per week? How much do you have to “chew” your food? Can you tell immediately if you haven’t chewed it enough? When did you go for your first fill? Does your incision/port hurt? Is it gross in anyway? Does it affect working out? What was your “real” recovery time? How soon were you back at work? Did anyone have to stay overnight in the hospital? And if so, why? Thanks a bunch! Wendy :thumbup:

December 2, 2008

1

The Holiday Season and...broth

I have forgotten what it feels like to be this happy. I love the holiday season, but it's always made me so sad/angry in the past. It always started when someone would ask what I wanted for Christmas, making me want to scream, "Nothing! You can't give me what I want!" And then, the New Year; New Year’s resolutions, and whenever someone would say, “What are your New Year’s resolutions?” I wanted to scream, “My resolution, and there’s only one, is the same as my resolution last year; to NOT BE FAT! But what difference does it make? I never stick to resolutions, just like I never stick to anything, so leave me alone!” But now; now I can breathe. When I was asked what I wanted for Christmas this year, I got to reply, “Oh, I don’t know. I think I have everything I want.” And my N.Year’s resolutions; I’m not making any. I’d already resolved, decided that my life was going to change long before New Years. So, now I sit here, knowing that my Christmas Eve dinner was…broth. While my family ate Dove chocolate that I put in their stockings, I had…broth. My brother’s wife is a gourmet, and while everyone at my mom’s ate the yummiest food you can imagine, I had… broth. I GLADLY had broth. I HAPPILY sipped that broth. And when concerned family would ask, “Are you okay?” I’d answer, “Better than you could possibly imagine.

January 1, 2009

2

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