Day 151: Too Normal
This morning I weighed in at 185.2lbs and then I walked into my closet and stared at the emptiness. My closet is EMPTY. I literally cannot wear anything I was wearing five months ago. Well, at least not unless I'm going for the baggy look.
I'm so surprised that I've stuck with it. I'm still doing all my protein, getting in all my fluids, taking my vitamins, and exercise is just a part of my life now. But my name is Miss Fickle, I'm known to grow tired of doing the same thing within a matter of weeks or months. I'm just amazed. I've been able to change my habits. Seriously change them. I still worry about the day I let my guard down, but I can't imagine it right now. I do not crave popcorn when I go to theaters, I feel *sick* after just a few tastes of my friend's ice cream (a splurge for me) -- and I'm not sad about it. Real food has never tasted so good to me. And the *fake* foods just do nothing for me now. I have a few bites of pasta, and I'm not jazzed about it like I used to be. Funny thing, I love the smell of the pasta cooking. Some days, I just don't know how I got here. It seems like just yesterday I was waking up from my surgery. It was just last Christmas I was huffing and puffing on my brother's stairs.
I have gotten out of the habit of journaling. Not happy about that, but it's been nice to have a break. I got to the point I had almost every meal memorized, so I just stopped. I'd like to get back into it, I know I will. But so long as I'm still losing, I'm not too worried about it. I keep to what I know, only deviating for a bite here and there of special things on rare occasions.
It's nice to feel normal again. To not worry when a friend wants to go out, to not panic when I'm going to be gone all day and need to pack snacks. I look at my scars and wonder if it was just a dream?
Now, I just need to sell some of these clothes that are taking up all the space in my guest closet before my mom comes to visit!!
Day 50: "Still Fat"
It's been a while since I've posted because most days were starting to look alike and it seemed a bore to write about. I'm doing well, not great. March has been a slow month for me. Everything was clicking along really well in February, losing an average of a pound every two days. It really felt good to see the changes in my body. I was on a real streak with my exercise, bumping walks from 45 minutes to an hour to an hour and 15 minutes. I was trying out different gyms to see which one to join, loving the strength my body had to go the distance.
But then I got hemorrhoids. Not just your run of the mill stuff, but the really painful stuff that made everything come to a halt. I hadn't been constipated, and I'm still convinced it was the stupid seat on the gym bicycle -- the hard, plastic piece of crap. Was fine that morning, but all wrong that night. I immediately spent 2-3 days mostly lying in bed, getting up for short spurts to make food, shower and a few other things. The weight loss nearly came to a halt. I found myself very depressed and upset that I was knocked down from my streak. A week went by, no change. Then I go see my gynecologist who's been monitoring the horrific pain I had been getting every month with menstruation. Turns out the last ultrasound showed another fairly large cyst, hemorrhagic, just above 4cm. I'd had these before, landing me in the emergency room with how painful it can be when they twist or rupture. To treat it, she decided to put me on oral contraceptive even though I've shown in the past I can't tolerate it. Sure enough, it was one of the worst weeks of my life. I would not get out of bed until 10am and force breakfast down. The nausea was absolutely unbearable. Then I'd lie in bed, both for the hemorrhoids to heal more and because I didn't see the point in getting up. I'd cry a few times out of sadness, then make my way to the shower sometime in the afternoon. I was picking fights with my husband for no reason, unable to sleep through the night without waking up wanting to cry. I barely ate, watching my protein and calorie goals go unmet. Thankfully, I was able to see my gynecologist about a week later and she immediately stopped the pill listening to my symptoms. Meanwhile, I had barely lost 5 pounds in the first 16 days of March - such a disappointment.
Now I have to get vaginal ultrasounds every two weeks to see if the cyst goes away on its own, or needs surgery. Ugh, the thought of another surgery just makes me shiver. On top of that, I may have endometriosis. It can't be diagnosed without going in laparoscopically. But it means potential fertility problems down the line. Something my husband and I were very much hoping to try for in a year or more after my weight loss.
Then comes in my two orthopedists. Yes, two. I have one for my right knee and one for my left knee. Complicated story. I'm getting joint fluid injections in the right knee, and can't go walking or stand for very long in the 48 hours after the injections (a series of five over five weeks). So, more time not exercising! They confirmed that I can't do squats or anything that involves bending the knee past my toes, elliptical is out of the question since it makes my knees hurt within just a few minutes of using. I have maltracking patella with hyperflexibility which basically means the cartilage behind my kneecaps is rubbing on bone and disintegrating. It's very painful and limiting.
My best option for exercise is swimming. But my bathing suit no longer fits and I have to have mine custom made in the mid-west. It costs me about $180 per suit and they aren't made for real swimming. The chlorine in pools kills the material. Plus, they take about two weeks to make and ship. I have such an odd chest size (34/36I) and I'm only 5'2" so the option of just ordering online or walking into a store does not happen for me. Then I'd have to join a gym with a pool, and get lap swim lessons since I've never really learned. That's about another $60 per month/$75 per lesson. Did I mention I'm unemployed right now and that kind of money is all tied up in the credit card that paid for my surgery and all these medical bills?
So, yes. This is a rant. I've had a crappy month of crappy realizations about my situation. It seems every corner I turn is giving me a new obstacle and I'm getting really tired of it. I'm losing my momentum and wondering if I did the right thing. It's amazing to me that I can eat less than 600 calories a day and still not lose weight! I was afraid of just this scenario and here it is. I'm drinking fluids to the point I pee 7-8 times per day. I'm getting in my protein, following the guidelines all the time (since stopping the pill). And yet, still only 6 pounds down in 20 days.
I hope this is just a stall, due to all that's been going on in my life. Now that things are on the mend, I hope this stall will break. I'm seeing my doctor tomorrow and I'm scared. He's an excellent surgeon, but has no personality whatsoever. He's a hardass and I'm sure he'll see my lack of a good loss as a failure and will accuse me of cheating. I really don't want to see him, don't want to hear another person disappointed in me. I'm already pretty sick of myself right now.
The nagging voices are taking over my life. I'm really having a hard time wondering why I did what I did. I know 40lbs is a lot to lose, but why can't I be proud of that? Why is it not enough?
Day 30: "Mixed Feelings"
I am wondering if anyone had breast reduction/reconstruction after having WLS, and if so: How long did you wait and was it covered by insurance?
I am very well endowed genetically. When I gained weight, I went from a 34DD at 135lbs. to a 40H at 265lbs. I visited a plastic surgeon in October, and he was the one who mentioned the VSG option to lose weight. In fact, it was made me decide to have VSG done. He highly recommended that I lose the weight first, then have the surgery once I was at maintenance weight. Having the surgery at my highest weight would increase my chances of risks, longer hospital stay, etc. He said that losing even 50lbs. would reduce those chances by more than half.
I've never liked having large breasts. I'm an active person and they get in the way. Not to mention trying to find bras, clothes, and bathing suits that fit. I usually have to order my bras from strange online retailers and spend outrageous amounts of return shipping and restocking fees when they don't work. It's not like I can just buy a bra at a local department store for $20! I love to swim, but my only option for bathing suits is a place in the mid-west that makes custom suits. They are close to $180 a pop! And as good as they are, they still don't support me all that well and they fall apart after 15-20 swims. I guess they are made more for those who sit by the pool than actually get in the pool. In regular tops and jackets, I still have to buy 1-2X just to cover my chest, while the rest of me is swimming in fabric. I am easily a size 14 in my arms and waist if that helps make a visual.
I know my breasts are going to be my nemesis during the weight loss process. I've lost 34lbs. and haven't budged in the bra department other than I changed from a 40 band size to 38. I'm going to be very disappointed if I don't lose the boobs.
I'm already daydreaming of having breast reduction as soon as I hit goal. Although we want to have kids, so if I'm able to conceive we may wait a little longer. They are terribly uncomfortable and such a pain. I tried swimming at a new gym yesterday and had a freaky, creepy old man staring at me the whole time. I stayed only 10 minutes before leaving in shame and embarrassment. I've been stared at since high school when I developed, and have always gotten more attention from the male-sex than I ever welcomed. I've been groped at concerts, unable to get security to do anything. I get cat calls when I'm out trying to walk for my health, nasty things.
I can't wait until they are gone and I can have a normal life.
Day 18: "Pretty OK"
This is my third week living with my sleeve. Seems so weird to call it that, like it's not a stomach anymore. But it is. I'm having a hard time thinking of it as anything but my stomach, just smaller. I think it's the part of me that struggled with the idea of the surgery in the first place. The concept of getting rid of something God gave me, my parent's DNA provided me. I look at pictures of myself from the past and I think, "I was whole then." Don't get me wrong. I'm not here regretting or venting. No buyer's remorse. I came to terms before my surgery, knowing it's better to "sacrifice the few, to save the many." I'm such a logical thinker, it gets me in trouble sometimes. I'm a somewhat religious person, it helped when a fellow sleever at a support group told me about Matthew 5:30, "And if your right hand leads you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose a part of your body than to have all of it go into hell." THAT made sense to me. Go figure?
I think what I'm struggling with right now is how I let it get this bad. I spent my childhood eating fairly well. Granted my parents served us Spam, sugary Kool-Aid, McDonald's, and Pizza Hut from time to time. It was the 80's and they worked hard. But I didn't gorge on them, and was never overweight. Then in my 20's I was so focused on being attractive to the opposite sex, looking for a mate, I policed myself and stayed in shape. Next thing you know, it's 2005 and I'm gaining and gaining and gaining. That was a tough year for me. I'd been hit by a car while doing my favorite sport, cycling. The injuries are still with me today and the psychological trauma still haunts me. My parents separated, my uncle passed away tragically sending my grandmother into early dementia. But great things happened as well. I graduted college a year earlier and had moved across the country to start my life with my (now) husband. Granted, we were in tons of debt and not the best of housing situations. It was just all too much change for a single year. I let my guard down and it just spiraled out of control. Then I fell into a series of dreadful jobs while pulling us out of debt. Then a few more accidents and -- BOOM. There I am with ailment after ailment, scrambling to doctors to fix it, while ignoring the fact that I weighed 265lbs. In less than two years I had DOUBLED in size. DOUBLED!!
I'm shocked as hell that I didn't see it. It was like I had blinders on. When I looked in the mirror, I looked the same. It was me. When I got dressed, I looked down and my body seemed strangely unchanged. But then things happened. The first time I was out with a friend, window shopping and I realize none of the stores have my size. Sitting at a restaurant and having a little child ask me if I was pregnant because of my belly. Hearing a complete stranger call me a "fat a**" while walking down a sidewalk. Struggling to buckle my belt on a plane. Then the sickness. Always getting sick. Migraines. Horrible PMS. Emergency rooms. Being told I am most likely infertile...
It was too much to bear. The guilt nearly killed me. Knowing my husband had vowed to love me forever, and I was ruining his chances to have children. Much less, having to live with a fat, depressed woman who's self-esteem was just non-existent. Disappointing my family, shortening my life... then losing two jobs due to my weight. One because I was so sick all the time, I became unreliable. They let me go out of pity, and in a way because they didn't want to see me get worse. The second because of this jerk who thought I was "bad for business."
So yeah. I'm happy I did it. I know it's early, and I'm sure this roller coaster will take me many more dips that make me sick-to-my-sleeve. But I know there will also be lots of high moments when I can see the beautiful horizon and anticipate the excitement of the hurdling "drops" -- in weight! And in the end, I will most likely be a little wobbly-knee'd and woozy. But just like when I was a kid, I'll march off to my loved ones and tell them, "It was the best ride of my life! I want to do it again!"
Day 22: "Happy"
It's nearing the end of February and it feels like time is standing still. I've never liked this time of year. It's cold, the days are still fairly short, and there's not a lot to look forward to from day-to-day. Throw into the mix that I spend my days looking for work, alone at home. It's all a recipe for depression. I'm so sick of counting calories. I feel like a check out girl with my iPhone scanning the barcodes of everything I eat for MyFitnessPal. I measure everything, converting tablespoons to cups. Don't get me started on things measured in grams (units of weight) when I'm trying to figure out units of volume! ACK!
But I'm happy. I really am, sometimes it even shocks me. I know that if I didn't have my sleeve, I would be emotional eating every day. I would have tried dieting three or four times by now, only to crack a few days in. And each time I would do that, I'd beat myself up afterward. I'd feel guilty that I couldn't control my head hunger. That I was hopeless to ever get this weight off and keep it off. Not to mention the way I'd feel after eating crap. The headaches, the blood sugar rises and drops, and the tiredness. An emotional cycle that would have taken me into dark places I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.
Now I'm in control. Well, at least I'm getting there. It's hard to take control, it's a lot of brain power and work. I am exhausted sometimes from thinking about it all the time. I'm too afriad not to think about it because I have to stay on schedule, drink constantly, make sure I'm exercising every day. I'm known to get into projects and things and zone out for hours at a time. Heck, just while typing this blog entry I've had to stop occasionally to remember how long it's been since I drank anything so I can have some cottage cheese soon. Being in control means being responsible. I don't want to fail at this like I have with so many other things. I'm afriad failing at this will take a devastating toll.
Yesterday I teared up a little while walking. It was good though, a happy misting of the eyes. I realized that I felt really good, that I was enjoying physical activity again. I actually feel lighter, like there is less pulling on my frame. I wasn't focusing on my painful knees and back, nor how chilly the wind was on my face. I wasn't caring what I looked like to others (I have no style when it comes to workout clothes.) I had a million reasons not to get out yesterday, but I did. I have a long history of making up reasons not to make time for myself. But it came almost effortlessly yesterday.
I've lost 30lbs, gone down one pant and one bra size, and I can see it in my face. It's only the first step, of many more to go. I hope I find patience to make it the rest of the way. I hope it gets easier from here on out. I hope I don't freak out when I hit my first plateau, or my second, or third... Does it get easier?
Day 23: "So-So"
Today was a beautiful day here on the central coast. Had 75-degree temps and sunny weather during my walk along the ocean. So lucky to live where I live while I go through this transition. We will most likely be moving within the year because the cost of living is catching up to us. But I'm so grateful to be here right now, to heal, and work towards something greater.
Yet, I felt sad most of the day today. Had a lot of nightmares last night, my husband woke me because I was making horrible sounds and I was drenched in sweat. I'm working through a lot of emotions right now with my therapist, trying to get to the bottom of my head hunger and self-sabatoging behavior. She told me that part of this process would be the nightmares and vivid dreams. Great...
Does anyone else feel like time is standing still? This third week seem to be going at a crawling pace, which is making me feel like the weight is taking forever to come off. Patience is not my strong suit. The days and nights are blurring together, and I'm losing a sense of time. I have moments where I think, "It's been over three weeks! I'm past the hardest part!" and then later, "It's been only three weeks, when will I be normal again?!"
I also know myself. Three maybe four weeks is my maximum. It's about how long I enjoy a new job. How long I usually lasted on diets in the past. About the amount of time I tried out a hobby only to realize it wasn't for me. It's that critical place where I either stick with it, or start giving up. I can feel it inside me, the moment of truth is cresting. I don't know which way it will go, but I know where I want it to go: Upwards and onwards. I don't want to quit, don't want to get weak. I hope I stay strong and make it through this week. It's too important not to!
Day 28: "Impatient"
Today is a good day, but as I've mentioned in my previous blog entries -- time seems to be standing still and I'm having to learn the art of patience and distraction. My weight loss has not happened as quickly as I'd hoped, but I'm still loosing 4-5 pounds per week. Nothing to sneeze at. So long as the numbers are going down, I'm stoked. Can't wait until the next drop in clothing size. My tops are loser for sure in the waist and arms, but I can't go down yet due to my bra size. If anyone has any good exercises for making the "girls" smaller, please let me know!
So I now know what dehydration is all about, and it sucks. It's bittersweet because I had to learn it during two of my early NSV moments. First, on Friday I walked 2.5 miles in an hour. The furthest I've gone in years! And I felt great during the first 2 miles, very little pain in the usual places, good heartbeat. Then I bonked at the end, and even worse a few hours after I got home. I had a low-grade headache, some nausea, and muscle spasms. Not to mention I was as weak as a bird. I knew it was dehydration, but I was perplexed because I'd been drinking plenty of fluids and had water with me on the walk. So I upped the intake even more, to nearly 100oz of fluids! When I wasn't urinating very much, I got worried. Went to bed, hoped I felt better then next day. And I did. Saturday was a little better, I drank more, and seemed to be getting better. My husband and I went for an 8.5 mile bike ride over 1.5 hours and I FELT GREAT! I can't remember the last time I felt that good on the bike. Considering my history is heavily cycling related, it was a little overwhelming emotionally. My husband commented about how great I looked, my balance was better, and our pace was much faster than it had been in the past few years. What a difference taking a small, 30+ pound monkey off your back will do for your endurance!
Then I bonked, again. A few hours later, I was weak, headache-y, twitchy, yadda, yadda, yadda. I had a full 22oz bottle before riding (along with breakfast food and shake) and finished the same 22oz second bottle while riding, and drank like crazy after. WHAT WAS GOING ON!?
I take a potassium pill from my doctor that is the size of a horse pill. Don't worry, I dissolve it in water and drink it down. But my sodium and magnesium levels were low. I looked at my food journal and somehow the foods I was taking in were much lower in sodium and magnesium than previous days. Not sure how what happened. So I took some magnesium citrate as well (powder form in water), and drank and rested yesterday. Just a 45 minute, slower pace walk. Today I'm feeling much better, and I talked to my NUT. She wasn't too concerned, said to continue with the potassium, magnesium, and work in more sodium where I can without taking too much.
It's amazing how fragile my body still feels. It takes so little to change the chemistry and throw everything off! It makes me a little sad, that I will forever have to watch every single thing that goes into my body. I'm OK with it so long as the scale is going in the right direction, but when it's not moving very fast -- it's not as easy.
I knew there would be up's and down's, as I talked about in my first blog entry. This was both. A great victory for my physical endurance, but a slippery slope in my health. Let's see how the next week plays out!
