As always, this is a comic view of my weight loss.....though the story is true, it has been changes a little in order to find the comical side of things. Enjoy!!!!
My scale can not decide what number it wants to show me. It goes down, then back up, then down again. It is worse than any yo-yo I've ever owned. At least with the yo-yo, at some point it stays down because I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to using one. I can't seem to figure out why my weight won't make up its mind. Nothing has changed in my eating habits but for some reason my weight loss has decided to take a vacation and it didn't tell me where it was going. I am not sure why why it decided to leave now, we were getting along so well. I would tell the scale and weight loss how happy I was to see them, and they would keep going down. Positive reinforcement seemed to work. Now, the numbers go up and then down but never back to where it's last lowest number was. I have continued to tell the scale and the numbers that it's alright, I understand, and that when they are ready they will begin to fall again. However, that's not helping.
So now I am thinking that negative reinforcement may help. Problem is, the only thing I can think of would be handing my scale back over to my husband and the only person that feels the affect of that is me. And, as you know I've worked really hard to get my scale privileges back. I've been very good not obsessing and/or weighing myself daily. I weigh myself every other day or every three days. That seemed to work...until now. I was getting good results and was a happy camper as I watched the numbers go down...down...down. That's not the case now. This camper is so not happy.
The numbers have jumped up and down with in a ten pound radius. I can't make any sense of it. I thought about the fact that I'm gaining muscle, but that's been the case since the beginning. I've thought about it being that time of the month, or that I'm constipated, but that offers little encouragement. So, now I am starting to think that maybe my body knew how happy I was becoming with it and wasn't used to all the positive thoughts so it decided to protest. Kind of like a teenager that begins getting bad grades after people tell him/her how smart he/she is. Kind of like self sabotage. But, I'm not sabotaging anything. I eat around 800-1000 calories a day. I get my protein in and I've begun working on getting my fruits and veggies in as well. So, I have decided my scale is wrong. It has to be. There is no other reason for it to be the way it is. If it wasn't wrong, it wouldn't keep giving me all these different numbers. I've been nice to it. I've told it how happy I am to have it in my life. Then BAM, it goes and does this to me. So, I've decided I'm going to ignore it. I'm not going to spend anytime with it for the next few weeks. That way, it can see how lonely life can be with out me. It also gives it time to think about the emotional damage it's caused me and then maybe (just maybe) it will decide to act right and show the correct (LOWER) numbers. Yes, as of right now, I've decided that the scale and I are on a break (like Rachel and Ross). But, if it decides to go find comfort elsewhere (with my husband), I will NOT take it back. Just because we are on a break doesn't mean it has the right to go give it's numbers to anyone else who shows it some attention.
I never thought I was an emotional eater. Most times when I am really upset about something, I am not hungry at all. I remember one time when my now husband and I broke up. We were engaged at the time and I refuses to give him my ring when I walked out the door. I ended up going to the beach. It's the one place I can always feel better and make sense of what I am feeling. Those three days, I think i ate 1/2 of a turkey club sandwich. Nothing else. No chips, no sweets, nothing. I lost 15lbs in 4 days. The good thing was that if we stayed broken up, I would have slimmed down A LOT and maybe found a new man pretty quickly. (my husband isn't very happy that I wrote that last part). LOL
I tell you all this to explain today. Today I received some bad news. Nothing major. No one died or anything. It was news that I knew caused my mother to be very upset and though it upset me, I was more upset that my mother cried. No one likes to see their mother cry. So, with it being lunch time, I looked around for what I was going to have for lunch. Nothing looked good to me. The thought of eating made my stomach turn....until I thought of carrot cake. If you have been reading my blog, you know my love (almost obsession) with carrot cake. I thought, "YUMMM carrot cake sure sounds good. I bet I could eat a whole slice." WHAT? Where did that thought come from? I haven't really wanted anything sweet since surgery so why was carrot cake on my mind now? I sat for a moment thinking about this and then had my "light bulb" moment. Sugar makes everything better.
If I look back at my childhood, sugar played a huge part of making me feel better or was given as a reward. If I had a sore throat, after the doctor's visit, my mother would take me to McDonald's for an ice cream or milk shake. If I ate everything on my plate, I got desert. If I finished my chores, I got a cookie with chocolate milk. Now, I don't think my mother was trying to get me to associate food with good feelings. I think she just thought she was being nice. It wasn't always bad things. There were times I got an apple, an orange, or some grapes. But to me, the best memories were from the special sugary treats.
So, as I sat there coming to the realization that food was a reward to me most of the time, I decided that food will no longer play that roll. Food is something to give me energy. It helps my body do what it needs to. It can taste good and be enjoyable but it is not something I get to feel better or to reward myself with. I am thinking clothes would be a good thing to replace food...but that could be VERY expensive. Let's be honest, a milky way is much cheaper than a pair of shorts or a shirt. So, for now my reward is the scale going down. Knowing if I eat to make myself feel better or to reward myself will be sabotage and I refuse to have gone through all this for nothing. So, the candy bars, ice cream, and all the sugary things can remain on the store shelf. How did I deal with it today? I had a Lean Shake. 25 grams of protein, and I'm full. Not as tasty, but much better for me.
Today I have felt as though there is no bottom to my stomach. I have been so hungry that I think I could eat a whole pig if one was offered up. I am not sure where these hunger pains are coming from except that it's REALLY close to that time of the month.
Now, I have been very good at what I am eating. I have roasted chick peas that I munch on and some almonds. The problem with the almonds or any nut is that I could eat them until I got sick....lucky for me, I haven't. I need to learn to really focus on my hunger and figure out what my body is telling me. I will admit that I haven't really eaten much the last few days. I have had my three meals a day and made all my protein, but I had to force those meals down because I wasn't really hungry. Then BOOM, today my body and stomach do a 180 and now everything that can be consumed, I want to consume. Usually when I am like this (before surgery), I want ice cream, chocolate, bread, and salty foods. That isn't the case now. Now, I want healthy foods like nuts, apples, and peanut butter. I guess that's a good thing but I have to admit, I feel horrible for eating this much. Now, I don't fill up to the brim. I haven't slimmed, and to be honest, I am eating small "meals" every few hours but compared to what I was eating before surgery and after surgery, I feel like a hungry hippo chomping for those marbles.
I have read on here that there comes a time where people feel hungry constantly and eat more than they have been. I guess that is where I am now. I hope that tomorrow, I wake up and am no longer chasing those marbles. Also, maybe Aunt Flow will show up and put this wanting to eat thing to rest. I swear if it wasn't for Aunt Flow, I wouldn't have any worries but that lady is NO FUN and every time she comes around, I feel the hunger rearing it's ugly head. The hunger gets worse the closer she gets. Mother Nature and Eve sure weren't looking out for all the other women in the world when they decided to follow their own plans and not listen to anyone. Thanks a lot!!!
It amazes me how much my body has changed in only five weeks. Rolls are smaller, my side boobs are almost gone, and my stomach is semi flat (though still big). My legs are changing and shaping and my boobs are shrinking to the smallest they have been since college....when I used to think they were very large. If I have changed this much is such a short time, I can't even imagine what I will look like in a year. The idea of being around 150 pounds is still unreal to me. I know it's my goal and I am doing everything I need to in order to make my goal, but it still seems crazy to me to think I could ever bee that thin. I wasn't even that thin in high school.
Yesterday I took the plunge and tried on my bathing suit. I knew when I bought it two years ago that it was too small for me, but I didn't care. I shoved every inch of fat into it and enjoyed myself on the beach or in the pool. That won't be the case this year. First, it went right on with no wiggle-wiggle. You girls know what I mean. The moving your body and the garment in an attempt to get it up and over your ___________(fill in the blank). Nope, this time it slid right up. It fit perfectly and I looked good in it. Not model good, but good. I will no longer have to pretend that I feel comfortable at the beach, because now I will be. I was so excited that I came running out of the bedroom to tell my husband only to find him passed out on the couch taking a nap. So, I decided to jump into the car and drive the mile to my parent's home and show my new body to my mother. I was smart enough to throw some clothes on before running out the door. I think it would be a little strange to see a woman driving in her bathing suit this early in the summer. I do live near a beach, so it's not as uncommon as you may think. I literately walked into the house, said hello and stripped down to my bathing suit. Lucky for me my mother is very understanding and didn't demand me to stop stripping in her kitchen. Instead, she looked me up and down and told me how wonderful I look. Yea, I look wonderful in a bathing suit. LOL
Then to make my weekend even better, I tried on a pair of Old Navy sweats I bought prior to my surgery. They couldn't get over my but when I bought them but now, they fit just perfectly. I am really liking this weight loss thing that comes from getting a sleeve. I wish someone would have told me this would have been a side affect. I would have done it a long time ago. LOL Just kidding. The only side affect I didn't really know about was how good I would really feel and not just because the clothes fit. It's more just feeling better all around. Knowing I did something for me that is making me healthier every day. Now, if weight loss is a part of that, I'll take it. I will also take feeling good in a bathing suit (both kinds) because, that's something I haven't felt .... well, ever.
I had indigestion prior to my sleeve surgery. It was rare, but when I did have it, it was bad. So, I got a pill to make it all better. When I looked into getting the sleeve, I was excited to see that my stomach juices would calm down and this feeling of wanting to just throw up would never happen again. Boy, was I wrong. I hate to say this, but it's only gotten worse. I went from taking my pill once a week to every day and I still feel the indigestion. Sometimes I wonder if the surgeon gave me some extra "stomach juice switches" and didn't tell me. That seems to be the only thing that makes sense to me. I don't eat things that I shouldn't, and I really don't eat much at all, so what is causing this other than my surgeon playing a trick on me?
Now, I know my surgeon didn't do anything to me except take out most of my tummy and staple the part she left. However, it feels as though she replaced my stomach with a volcano and all it wants to do is BLOW. I've never wished that I could just throw up but today, that is how I feel. I've tried everything. I've taken my meds, taken Tums, and even drank some milk. The milk seems to be the only thing that has worked except for the walking. However, I can't walk all night long. Last time I tried walking at night I almost got ran over. I would hate for my indigestion to cause me to end up in the hospital with broken bones because a stupid driver wasn't paying attention. So, I think I'll stick with the milk for now.
So, that's all. Nothing else to say. I just wanted to vent about the volcano and the acid that wants nothing more than to escape from mouth. A few weeks ago I wished to get rid of all the farting and burping. Now that this has started, I pray the farts and burps will come back....at least they didn't keep me up at night. Though I can't say the same for my poor husband.
As you are all now aware, I have MAJOR back issues. So, getting in any exercise can be difficult for me. I can't wait for the pool to open up and warm up so that I can do water work outs. Dreaming about that puts a smile on my face. Anyway, back to reality. For now, I walk when I can and I walk as much as I am able to. I have had days that all I could do was .10mile, and I've had 5 mile days. Either way, I tell myself I did something and it's more than I did before my sleeve so I'm doing better than I was before.
I didn't tell you all that to get a pat on the back or to be told how great it is I walk. Nope, I told you because I need you to understand that if I can walk, I want to walk. I want to walk out my door, put on my headphones, blast my music, set my endomundo (an app that tells me how far I've gone), and WALK. I don't want to have to stop and pet the neighbor's dog, or be forced into idle conversation for 10 mins. Who thinks it's ok to stop someone on a major power walk to talk about the weather? Now, please don't get me wrong here. I will wave and say hello. I may even slow down and give "Lucky" a quick pet and tell how cute he is. What I will not do is stop completely. Therefore, I am the keep walking talker. I will turn around and listen to you as you talk and place my life in danger as I can no longer see the on coming traffic, in an attempt for you to understand that I DO NOT WANT TO STOP. But, that doesn't seem to work often. I will walk in place so you can see you're annoying me but that seems to have no affect as well. I've even taken to walking at night so that other people won't be outside. All that did was get me almost hit by a speeding car. If I had been walking backwards, I would have surely been splattered on that person's windshield. That happened just last night and yes, I had a flashlight and it was on. The worst part of that experience is my back was so bad but I wanted to get something in. I should have just stayed inside.
In the past month, this is what I've learned to keep people away as I walk. I am the first to wave and smile. I say hello but I DO NOT remove my ear plugs. That way if they say more than hello, I don't really hear it. Second, I keep walking and look straight ahead after waving and saying hello. I do not want to give anyone the idea that I want to talk. i want them to see I am on a mission and they are not included in my plans. Lastly, I refuse to acknowledge dogs. This one is hard for me because I love dogs. But I've found if Lucky can get me off my game, you can talk and that causes me to not be walking.
With all this said, please know that I am not a mean person. I just like to focus on my task at hand and I do not like someone diverting me from that task. I will continue to be pleasant, but don't expect me to stop my exercise (the little I am able to get) and have a conversation with you. If you want to chit chat, meet me at the neighborhood pool in a couple of weeks. I can chat while in the water doing leg kicks....and you won't even know I'm working out. That way, we are both happy and I no longer seem like a witch.
* Warning* This is a comical view of weight loss with the sleeve. Please understand that I say many things just for the laugh or shock value. I do not need you to tell me to not "do it" or "do this". I appreciate your caring, but please know that I am a strong person and I wouldn't do a lot of the crazy things I say I want to....notice I didn't say ALL. Enjoy the blog and have a good laugh. I know I enjoy writing them* Warning done.
Today is my one mouth anniversary. I can't believe how much has changed since I walked in the hospital April 12, 2012. I would have never thought I would be eating regular food (but not much) , or drinking normal (without one ounce cups). If you would have told me in the hospital that I would be 40lbs smaller since my two week apt. before surgery, I would never have believed you. If you would have told me that I would be happy (for the most part) with the food I eat, I would have laughed at you. But, it's all true. I'm happy, healthy, and loosing a little every week.
I went for my follow up apt. today. First, you have to understand that my hormones have been CRAZY. One second I am yelling and screaming and thinking about throwing my husband out the window, then the next second, I am laughing, cuddling, and trying to use my husband as though he's a gigolo. You would think he would appreciate the second part, but as he told the doctor today, "I feel like a piece of meat." Well, doesn't' he understand, that's what I want??? LOL It's been forever. According the doctor, this is all normal. Apparently (for those of us who didn't know), we have hormones stored in our fat cells, and when we loose weight, the hormones burst into our blood stream. At least we can feel it coming on. I know when I am getting ready to loose it, I don't do anything to stop it. Is it because I know my husband will love me no matter what? Nope, It's really that I just don't care. Now, I don't want to sound like a witch. That's not it. It's just they come on so fast, the idea of trying to stop them or walking away doesn't seem as good as letting it all out. At least I say I am sorry...the doctor said I do this because I know he won't leave me....I'm not so sure about that. If he doesn't, he's the strongest man out there. I don't think I could live with me. Just think about the worst PMS you've ever had. Now times it by 1000. Yeap, that's what weight loss does to us. Our poor families.
Now, let me tell you about the sex talk at the doctor's office. I know that I can have sex after 1 month. I've known this for months. My husband had questions. Ones I wasn't expecting. So imagine this situation. It's me, my husband and the doctor.
Scott- Can we have sex?
Doctor- Yes, if you want to
Me- Oh, I want to. I can't keep my hands off him
Scott- It's true, it's like I'm a piece of meat
Doctor- Get used to it
Scott- I don't know how to ask this
Doctor- You can just say it
Me- Looking at my husband like 'what on earth are you getting ready to ask'
Scott- Ok, is there any way we can't do it? I mean, can we only do it regular?
Me- OH MY GOSH-----REALLY?
Doctor- You can do it any way you want as long as it doesn't hurt
Ok, here is where my inner male comes out. I had to laugh at this.
Me- No, we have a safe word for when that happens. (laughing) Actually we don't. It's not like we have whips and chains and things.
Doctor- (looks a little shocked...but can tell we're joking around) I think we're all done here. See you back in a month.
Now, to be honest, there was a little more to that conversation but I wanted you to have the funny stuff. When Scott asked about my emotions, she said to him and this is a quote, "Get used to it". He looked at her and said, "I'm not sure that's possible."
So, now were home and of course I've attempted to seduce him, right after I lost it in the restaurant because my food was gross (thanks a lot taste buds for changing on me). Of course the poor man doesn't know what to do so he turns me down and sits on the couch to play on the PlayStation. I swear, reading this, you would think we were 17 year olds. Maybe that's why my emotions are so crazy...I'm really 17. Gosh I hope not.
Hello everyone. I promise that I haven't forgotten about you. I sit at the computer everyday and begin typing but realize that I'm a REALLY boring person. Unless something really funny happens to me, I don't have much to report to you. So, for today you are just going to get my thoughts from the past few days.
Walking is wonderful. I really enjoy getting outside everyday and attempting to beat my previous time. Yesterday, I walked a 18min mile. That may not sound like much, but when I first started my mile was around 30mins. So, I am getting better, thinner, and faster and I love every second of it. Before long, I will running instead of walking....sorry, I was laughing so hard at that, I fell off the chair. I will only be running if someone or something bad is chasing me. And, lets be honest, the bad thing will more than likely get me. That reminds me, I need to check my will and make sure it's updated.
Mother's Day: I spent this day with my family. I do not have any children, but I enjoyed being with my mother and sister and all her children. The best was sitting down at a family dinner and being able to eat with them. The last time I attempted this was Easter, and I was on my per-surgery diet so I couldn't eat. I was in week 2 and I was soooo depressed. I burst into tear right before the meal was served. But, unlike my mental breakdown last time we were all together, I was able to have some hamburger, beans, corn, and a bite of mac and cheese. I know it sounds like a lot, but trust me, I only ate around 3onz. So, while everyone was digging in and loading up their plates, my sister and I sat there picking at our food and loading up on conversation and family time. My only issue since I've started real food is veggies, and the need to walk after every meal. I looked like a crazy person as everyone was sitting at the table talking and I was walking in circles in the back yard. But hey, I figured the walking burned off at least a bean or two.
Doctor's Apt: I am not sure if I have told you all that I am currently on disability I have a really bad back. One of the major reasons I had this surgery was so that I can get a new disc when I lose enough weight. With that said, Today I had to go see the SS doctor for him to check out my "ability". Well, in the exam, he started pushing on my stomach. I explained that it really hurt as I just had surgery and I was still healing. Then he made me lay down to do his pushing and said, "I need to see your scars". WHAT???? I never expected to hear that. Now, before I go off about this "independent doctor who is paid by the government" you need to know that the whole time I was in there he was rude, demeaning and he STUNK. At first I thought it was what he ate for lunch, but it wasn't. It was him. How do you tell a mean hateful doctor that he stinks? He also made me lay down and when he told me to get up, he grabbed my arm and PULLED me. Now, if any of you have back issues, you know the worst thing to do to a person with back issues to to "help" them get up. Lucky for me, my husband jumped up and told him not to do that. This doctor shouldn't have been allowed to evaluate monkeys at a zoo, let alone people. Now, speaking of the doctor's office, I was also shocked to listen to two patients in the waiting room. They were openly talking about their illegal drug use. Then to top it off, the woman said what a great daughter she had....the same daughter that was doing the drugs as well. It was crazy in there. I really felt out of place.
Food: I am doing well with my food. it's interesting to try regular food. I am scared most of the time but only a few times have I felt "uneasy". I haven't had any more slimming nor have I thrown up. Hope this stays this way. Also, my husband enjoys watching me enjoy new foods.
So, that's what's been going on with me. Like I told you, nothing exciting. We are pretty boring. I am sure I will have some interesting and funny stories soon.
I know not to expect miracles. I think we all know the weight won't just disappear over night. Then why is it that I get so discouraged over a number? Maybe a better way to say this is that I get so discouraged over the lack of downward movement of the number. How is it that pre-op the weight just "fell" off and even post-op, the first few days it seemed to "melt" away. Now, it's been stuck on the same number for the past seven days? As I am writing this, my common sense and intelligence is saying, "Trish, you have got to be be kidding me!!! You have lost 35lbs during pre-op and after surgery (only 13 days ago...total amount of time???? 28 days!!!). I know that I shouldn't freak out. The person in me with common sense wants to just slap the crazy girl who wants to see all these changes back to the middle ages, where scales didn't have so much power. I KNOW I'm crazy (unrealistic is a better term) for wanting to see the scale drop every day, but I can't help it. And, I know I am not the only person who is like this. When did our obsession with the scale become so unrealistic? When did the number on a scale start to have so much meaning and so much power over us?
So, I started thinking, "where does this obsession come from?". At what point did I learn that these expectations were fine to have?. Should I follow all the psychology theories out there and blame my parents? Freud would say it has something to do with my sexuality but I don't' really think we need to be taking advice from a man high on opioids and itching for his next fix. Do I blame society and the media? Do I blame myself? I think a little blame goes to all of the above.
Now, before you attack me for saying my parents have some part in this, just hear me out. Our parents were bombarded with Jane Fonda workouts, the cabbage diet, Gene Simmons, weight watchers, and the constant reminder that the perfect plate came in 1/3s. 1/3 of the plate was protein, 1/3 was starch, and 1/3 was veggies or fruit. They were told to drink 4 glasses of milk a day and that eggs were good for us...then bad...and now, apparently they are good for us again. There was no "pink slim" in our burgers, no hormones in our meat, and our veggies didn't come from other countries and somehow defy the laws of biology and not rot for two to three weeks at a time. What do they put on these veggies anyway? Is there some supper "look younger" cream for veggies that women don't know about yet? If so, they need to bottle it up as I am sure they would make a lot more money with that then with the veggies. Sidebar* I bought some grapes, came home and put them int he fridge. A month and a half latter, I "found them" behind some other things. To my shock they looked and felt as though I bought them yesterday. I told myself right then and there that I wouldn't be buying my fruits and veggies from a certain grocery store again. That was just creepy. Ok, back to the parents. The had no reason to think McDonald's food was bad for us. I mean according to the commercials, everything was freshly made. Fresh= good for us. The federal government and media shoved all this information down their thoughts with very little thought of giving any real explanation. It's like giving a bike to a child who can't read and telling them to follow the instructions. The child compromises and just looks at the pictures to get the bike together. If there are left over parts, they just get thrown back int he box and you pray the bike doesn't fall apart while you're in the middle of a 2 foot jump off a homemade ramp. (My father was the king of doing this. I don't think he ever put something together where there wasn't left over parts floating around when he was done. Now, I am married to a man who does the same thing. Lucky for us, nothing has ever just fallen apart so they must be doing something right.
The only good part of what our parent's learned and saw was that in the magazines and on t.v., the models looked that normal people. They were not a size <0, or airbrushed to look more like a barbie doll and less like a person. The photos I saw as a child were not unrealistic. Christie Brinkley was thin but in shape. She didn't look as though she starved herself. It was a great "thin role model" to try to aim to become. It wasn't a model that was so Photoshopped that no one could ever look like her. If you ask me, I miss seeing real women in magazines. I think the fashion industry needs to learn that clothes on a a wharf of a model does not make me want to buy them. Oh, and before I forget, I never once read in a magazine where a model said, " I exercise two times a day, eat right, and rarely allow myself to have any sweets." What I do read and hear is, "I don't exercise, I eat what ever I want. I'm just lucky I have good genes." Well aren't you special? And for the record, you're a huge fibber. You may not exercise, but I promise you, you don't eat what you want. You eat tofu and salads all day, everyday. You starve yourself for your profession or get some help with illegal drugs. Just look at all the award shows on TV. How many times do you hear actors say that they have been on a "cleansing" diet for two weeks? I hear it all the time. SO, for two weeks before the awards show, the actor is drinking some strange concoction and using the bathroom way more than any normal person should. But hey, at least she looks good in her Oscar de la Rente dress.I don't know anyone who would consider those things yummy to the tummy. Tofu can't hold it's own up against a good 4oz grilled cheeseburger, grilled onions, and topped with your faves. Then to add some pasta salad or french fries with that makes it even better. But, apparently the models "genes" made her taste buds not find any of that appealing....or a better explanation is that she LIED through her perfectly straight, overly white teeth. I'm going with option 2 on this one.
I don't think it's all media's fault. I think parents, friends, and co-workers have some say in our feelings too. How many of us have lost weight int he past heard this, "Oh my goodness, you look great!!! How much have you lost?" It's like the amount of weight lost is needed to verify that the person does in fact look good. If you say you've only lost around 10 pounds, you are bound to hear someone say, "that's it? If looks like you've lost so much more. I guess everything has just redistributed." If you say, you've lost 50lbs, then you hear, "oh, that's a lot. How much more do you have to lose?" This is a feeble attempt to find out your weight. Something that always ticked me off. To these people, I usually respond that I'm not sure as i don't really look at the scale. This seems to make them very uncomfortable. The look of, "you're kidding me. Who doesn't look at the scale." is priceless. It usually only takes one time of saying this and they stop asking for numbers. The key is making them feel just a little more uncomfortable than you do. That way, they don't bother you again with all this number talk.
Another thing I heard growing up (even from my father...who believe it or not didn't mean for it to sound rude) was, "you would be sooooo beautiful if only you lost some weight." I can't tell you how many times I heard this growing up. I heard it from family, "friends', teachers, even people I didn't know that I just saw out and about. How did they not see my face drop when they said it? Did I look like deep down I was thinking, "you know, you're right. Right now I'm fat and ugly, but if I loose some weight I will be thin and beautiful. Ummm, thanks? I won't type what I want to say but it rhymes with Pluck Hue!!!! I thought beauty was on the inside. How does losing weight make my inner beauty even more beautiful? Oh it doesn't. You are really saying that even though I have a great personality, my fatness is making it hard for anyone to find me attractive. Thanks for making me aware of this. I wouldn't have known with out your underhanded complement. Now, I am just going to lock myself in my house and find some cookies and ice cream. My emotions just said, "screw you", I don't need your approval. I have the approval of Ben and Jerry's and Oreo. At least they make me happy and don't make me feel bad about myself until the next day when I get in on the scale again. But even then, I don't blame Ben and Jerry or myself for allowing them to cheer me up. I blame the mean person who hurt my feelings and "made me" fall off the wagon. Yes, it's that person''s fault I'm fat!!!! If they would have called me beautiful then I wouldn't be downing all the ice cream and cookies I can get my fat stubby fingers around. LOL
Now, I know the only person to blame is myself. No one forced me to eat the things I used to eat. I did that all on my own. I watched the number on the scale go up and up over the years and I was the person that didn't do anything about it. Now, all that's changed. I did do something about it. I now eat to live and not live to eat. I just have to learn that the scale isn't the end all be all. I have to throw out everything I've been taught in the past 37 years and take a new look at it all. But, I still want to see those numbers go down...maybe I can do a little of both? This is going to be hard but I can't allow a little box with digital numbers run my life any more and I hope you don't either. Here's to the only numbers that count....my protein and my liquids. I like those numbers high and I don't feel bad when I eat my tuna fish or my smoothie. Now I just have to learn to not feel bad when the scale doenst' move. Yes, that's going to be the hardest thing to get used to.
******As always, this blog is intended to make you smile. Please refrain from thinking I will kill my husband, jump over the Royal Farms counter for chicken, or sexually assault my husband...well, that last one may happen thanks to all the hormones. Needless to say, use this blog to smile and laugh. Enjoy. *****
I will be the first to admit that losing 40 pounds in six weeks is A LOT of weight in a very short amount of time. I am not saying that I am unhappy with my progress, but I have begun to notice some strange changes to my body that I didn't expect so soon. For example, who is the old woman who's stomach I have gotten? Let me explain. My stomach has shrunk and I am very happy about that. I have walked 3-5 miles a day with my stomach muscles nice and tight so that I could combat the excess skin (as much as I can) and I figured that if I were to get extra skin, i wouldn't notice it for at least 6-10 months.
Well, that's not the case. Last night I was looking in the mirror at my every changing body and I noticed something. Right around my belly button (which I can see for the first time in years), the skin above it and next to it looks like an old woman's (no offense to the 80 year olds out there reading this). It's all wrinkled and makes my tummy look much older than 37 years. Then to make matters worse, I showed it my husband only to hear this: "Yea, I noticed that awhile ago." UMMMM, excuse me? Don't you think you should have told me there was an eighty year old trying to escape via my stomach? He answered with this, "I figured you knew". Again, thanks my love for your soothing and understanding during this shocking time for me. It's not everyday someone notices their body is changing for the worse.
Now, the way my husband handles this is by saying, "Don't worry, you can always have surgery to have that fixed." What I don't get is when did we become wealthy? I have no idea where all the money for my plastic surgery is supposed to come from. Does the weight I lose turn into gold of the same weight? So far, my husband has told me I could get my breasts lifted and "filled" (He already misses them and they haven't shrunk THAT much), my tummy tucked, and now lifted in the upper part. I can't wait to see what other plastic surgery I am allowed to get once this is all done. He must be hiding all that gold somewhere, because as far as I can see, I can barely afford to pay for gas in the car to drive my butt around let alone find the money to lift my butt or any other part of my body surgically.
So, for now, the old lady and I will have to live in harmony. Lucky for me, I have no desire to wear skimpy shirts that show off my tummy....or should I say lucky for the rest of the world. For now, I will continue doing what I am and then once we win the lottery, plastic surgery here I come. LOL
Warning* This is not very comical. I think my hunger pains have taken over my sense of humor right now*
I ate dinner at at a normal time. I believe it was around 6pm. Since then, I have kept hydrated with my decaf. Crystal Lite. But, it never fails. Every night around 9pm, I want food. I have thought about this and wondered if it's "head hunger" or if I am truly hungry and I've finally figured out that YES, I am hungry. This is real hunger. This is the hunger that most people feel throughout the day but for some reason I don't feel until 9pm or later. Is my body trying to sabotage me? Why do I want food so late? Don't get me wrong, I also experience "head Hunger" but tonight (and most nights, that's not what I feel).
Tonight, my husband and I went to Royal Farms so he could get some food. I have to admit, because it was after 9, I wanted to taste everything in there. This has not been normal for me when I go into stores. Most of the time, I look at things and think, "that would taste good, but I really don't want it". He decided on a two piece chicken meal. Now, for the record, I love chicken. I can eat chicken everyday. Actually, I have eaten it everyday for the past few days. But for some reason, I had to walk away from the where he was ordering as all I could think about was jumping behind the counter and grabbing a chicken wing or leg and going to town with it. The same thing with the Krispy Kream donuts. Now, once I walked away, I was fine (though still hungry) I know I can't eat any of those things and to be honest, my mashed sweet potatoes sound more appealing to me now.
I think it's knowing I can't. I've never been good with being told I couldn't do something. If someone told me I couldn't do something, I would do everything in my power to prove them wrong. But with this, I can't do that. Proving "that person" wrong would only hurt me. I would also be saying that I did all this for nothing. And, I must admit that my biggest fear is being one of those people who in two years is the same weight or more than I was on my surgery date. That REALLY scares me. It scares me enough to not force the food in, to make sure I get my protein, and to make sure I get my liquids. Also, it scares me enough to teach myself how to deal with this "hunger" I feel after 9pm. Maybe I will need to eat dinner later. I am a night person so eating at 7pm would help with the hunger a little bit. As for the "head hunger" that I get at times, I think I have to just keep doing what I'm doing. Walk away. Tell myself what's important. No matter how good a tiny piece of donut would be, it wouldn't feel nearly as good as weighing 150lbs. I don't think anything could top that. Well, maybe winning the lotto, but I have a much better shot at making my goal weight.
So, I need to change my eating times. Or eat more than three times a day. Though, right now that seems to be all I am able to get in. I think I will strive to eat more than three times a day. I am sure once I am healed and able to "snack", things will be better. I am sure right now, a hand full of almonds would fill me up and satisfy my hunger, but I am not to that point yet. So, like all of you, I will continue to learn as I go and hope I am doing the right things. Because, no matter what, I'm going to be a loser. And, I am going to be proud of it.
As many of you know, I have eaten the same thing for three weeks. Most of the time, it was the same thing two times a day for three weeks. Well, all that changed today. Today I made myself chicken salad. I put the chicken in the magic bullet and added some onions and celery (very finely chopped) and a little mayo. And, in case you were wondering, it tasted amazing!!!! Not as amazing as my husbands mashed sweet potatoes with cinnamon, nutmeg, all spice, and splenda. That was heaven. It was almost as good as carrot cake. Side bar* I love carrot cake. Actually, it's more than that. There is nothing better than a moist carrot cake with really good cream cheese icing. The way it melts in your mouth!!! YUMMY is all I can say. * side bar done. And, as you can tell, being almost as good as carrot cake is like wining the Kentucky Derby if carrot cake is the triple crown. So, today I enjoyed two very yummy things that were not bad for me and I felt full after eating them. My husband's mashed sweet potatoes not only took care of my starch craving, it also took care of my sweet craving. He seems to know just what I need and how to give it to me when I need it. Even when I have no idea.
I don't know how he knew what I needed. Maybe I was getting cranky again or maybe he tracks my cycle unbeknownst to me. But all I asked for was sweet potatoes and he somehow took them and made them so much more than I could have even thought about wanting. I know when I read this to him, he's going to be like a kid in a candy store hearing all this positive feedback, because the one thing he loves it to is cook. But what he loves even more than that is me liking what he cooks. So, Scott (my husband) just so you know, you are an amazing cook and you surprise me all the time with your ability to take something so "everyday" and turn it into a "vacation".
Now that all the mushy stuff is out of the way. No pun intended with the mashed potatoes. I did have one strange thing happen to me today while I was enjoying my new food. First, you have to know that after almost a month, I still can't really tell when I am full. I know it takes awhile to figure this out, but I have so many strange sounds and feelings, that I don't know which ones mean what. So, today I was eating my YUMMY chicken salad and I had eaten about 1.5ounces. I figured I could eat the other .5 ounces with out issue. I knew I was close to being full just due to the amount I ate not because of any magical feelings I had. So, I took my last bite and BAM...I felt like everything in my stomach (all 2.5 ounces of it) was going to make a reappearance right there on the table. I ran to the bathroom and experienced the spitting and salty mouth but nothing else. After about three minutes of spitting, I felt fine. Has this happened to anyone else? I was so shocked by it all. It was the first time my body has said, "Hey Trish, you ate WAY too much and I can't handle it." I wanted to scream back to my body, "Hey Body, NO, I really didn't. You just don't know how to handle more than 2.5 ounces of food. Maybe if you didn't allow a surgeon to take 2/3 of your stomach away, we wouldn't be having this issue." But then I remembered that I am the one who asked the doctor to do that...so I would lose that battle with my body within seconds. For the record, I don't like to lose....unless it's weight.
So, I learned two very important things today. Number one: I can only handle about an ounce of chicken salad at a time. Number Two. I will have to make sure I have sweet potatoes on hand at all times. Then again, if I don't maybe my wonderful husband will create another food miracle Humm, that's a tough one to decide. I really like the sweet potatoes, but maybe there is something better....just not as good as carrot cake.
I have been walking since I woke up in the hospital. I have walked 2-5 miles a day since my surgery. So why oh why am I NOW getting blisters? As you can see, I have good sneakers (though old) and I wear socks when I walk. So why now do my feet look as though I have been running 10 miles a day? I think it's my body's way of fighting against all this positive eating and exercise. Whoever said eating well and exercising was good for you lied. That person was already thin and didn't have deal with all the changes that come along with changing your whole lifestyle.
For example, I am getting pimples in places that shouldn't be getting pimples. I think it's because for so many years the fat covered those areas and now that they are open to fresh air, they don't know what to do. I will say that they hurt and they are never in a place that make it easy to pop them. So, you have to deal with the pain until they decide to pop on their own. Also, the thin person didn't have to deal with chafing. It seems that the more I loose, the more I chafe. I guess the fat kept things from rubbing together and now, there is less fat, so my thighs are rubbing together while I walk, in an attempt to spark a fire. But, the only fire they are starting is the burning sensation of the chafing between my thighs. Not fun. I mean it may be funny, but it's really not fun to deal with. For the record, I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to provide a photo of those things for you to see. I don't want to scare away all my readers. Plus, there is no bigger person who doesn't know exactly what I am talking about. And, if you somehow managed to make it on this site with out ever having chafing, then you are lying or shouldn't be here.
Then, to top it all off, the other day I got blisters on the top of my feet. Then today I get them on the back of my feet. Are my feet loosing weight too? I can't figure out any other reason for this happening now. It didn't happen for the first three weeks, so why now? Is my body trying to tell me that my walks are pissing it off? Therefore, my body is going to rebel and cause me pain? I put band-aids on the blisters on top of my feet for my walk today. Only to have to stop in the middle of my walk due to the crazy pain coming from my heals. As you can see from the photo, today, I developed blisters on my heals too. I guess my heals felt left out of the rebellion my body was going through. Not any more. My heals have been welcomed to the party of causing me pain and they are enjoying themselves more than anything else right now.
I guess looking good is painful. If it was easy to be thin and in shape we wouldn't have had to go through major surgery to help us lose weight. Also, i have to think about it like this. Is this pain any worse than the pain of wearing a pair of jeans all day long that are too tight? You know what I am talking about. The pair that you had to lay on the bed and suck in to zip up and button. Sometimes we would even get some help with the closure. Once up we would pray that when we sat up they didn't split in half. The pair that dug into your stomach and left the deep red marks?! Those were painful!! At least the pain on my feet and other places will get better as I loose weight. Those jeans never seemed to get looser no matter what I tried. So, I much rather have this pain and know that soon those tight jeans will not fit at all because they are too big. Who would have ever thought that day would come? And, when it does...I will definitely take a photo and post it!!!!
Two days ago I posted about my pretty light blue Shake Weight. I wanted to share a photo of that with you so you can how I could be drawn to the pretty color and the shinny ends. Yes, I still use it whenever I get a chance and i do like it. It's very addictive. Hope you enoy my new toy as much as I do..even though you aren't able to play with it. Sorry about that. I'd share if you were here.
I have a problem. It's not a big problem. Some may say it's not a problem at all. However, I feel as though I have begun to let this little thing begin to take control of my life and I do not like it. What pray tell am I talking about? Is it pills? Illegal drugs? Alcohol? The scale (again)? Nope, it's none of those things. It's the one ounce cups they gave me at the hospital. You know what I'm talking about. Those cute little plastic cups that are so clearly marked with 1/2 and 1 ounce for liquids. Yes, those are the ones. I can't seem to drink anything with out using them. I even keep a running total of the number of 1ounce cups I have consumed on a nearby piece of paper. I don't understand why I can't look at a glass or a cup and figure out how much I've had to drink. I know it's not that hard to do but for some reason, I have become reliant on my little one ounce cups. I've even included a photo of my obsession.
I don't need them when I am out and about. I can look at a 20 ounce bottle and figure out how much I've had from it. Same thing with my 14ounce Lean Shakes. But for some reason, when I come home and put my liquids in a regular glass or cup, I lose all ability to do simple math and I NEED my handy little cup. My husband is getting sick of my little cup obsession. He has even asked when I will be done using them. I had to be honest and tell him that I wasn't sure. I need to be careful with what i say to him or he's likely to go hid my little cups with my scale and only allow me to use them once every week. Actually, that may be a good thing. For the record, I felt very thin this morning but was unable to check my progress due to not knowing where my scale is. This is getting old VERY fast. LOL So, I have found my new crutch to hold on to for now. My little cups.
I have thought about why I need them only at home, and I think I've figured it out. I have to keep a food log for the first two months after surgery (this includes liquids). I am not sure how many of you have to do this as well, but for the record it's a pain in my ever shrinking butt. Before I eat or drink anything, I have to put down the start time, what it is, and then when I am done, I have to fill in out much I've had and the end time. I can't just go get my mush for dinner and sit down and enjoy it. I have to go through all this documenting and by the time I get to sit down and try to enjoy my mush, it's not hot anymore. All I want is hot mush. It's bad enough I am having mush to begin with, can't it at least be mush to my liking?
I am sure you are all aware that mush isn't that good anyway so to have to take the extra few seconds to fill out this form which in turn makes it lukewarm, only adds to my hatred or my food log. I don't get much to eat, let me enjoy what I do get. Ok, my rant about my food log is done for now. I am sure it will come up in future blog posts.
So, back to my little cups. I know I have to give them up soon. I know there is no real need for me to hold on to them. I wonder if deep down I'm worried about taking in too much liquid even though I know my body will "let me know" if I do. Or it could be that I'm worried I won't get enough liquids in even though I know that's not possible with the amount I drink. So, I am going to make a pack. I am not going to use my cup after I finish with my current crystal lite drink. Just saying that has struck fear in my heart. My inner voice is even laughing me right now. "Come on Trish, you can do this. You drank just fine without these little cups before surgery and you can do it again. So, wish me luck and let me know if you are still using the little one ouncers as well. If so, maybe we can stop together. The good thing to remember is that relapse is part of recover. So if I slip up and use it again, I can just consider myself one step closer to recovering. *side note, I was a Drug and Alcohol counselor for years...not sure how good I was after reading my last few statements*
Anyway, here I go, drink is finished and the little cup is going bye-bye. I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but now I'm not so sure. As I place the cup in my recycle bin, I can feel the emotions welling up inside. The only thing that is helping me through this (and helping me not take it out of the trash) is the knowledge that I still have a whole stake of one ounce cups in the cabinet. You know, just in case I need them.
I have no idea why I think I can keep doing this to my body. Three weeks ago I had most of my stomach taken out and then today I had two teeth pulled (one on the left and one on the right). To be honest, I think the teeth pulling was worse than the sleeve. At least I got good drugs with the sleeve surgery. Also, I had better doctors who were nice and caring. This doctor was fast and rough and I only like that every once in a while (wink) but not in a doctor's office with a man I don't know. I figure if you voluntarily go into a place where people actually hold you down while another person does soemthing to you, you probably aren't going to enjoy it very much and if you do enjoy it, it's probably not something we should be talking about on here. Needless to say, my mouth hurts and both sides are swollen. The cold liquids feel good but the idea of trying to eat any type of pureed food right now isn't sounding to good. So, because I am not feeling very comical today I wanted to take this time to thank you all for reading my blog.
When I started this, I figured no one would really read it but it would give me an out to vent and talk about going through this in a funny way. It was therapy in a way. We all know that if our family members haven't been through it, they really don't understand what we're going through. That's not to say they don't try, but unless you go through it all, you can't understand the ups and downs of our emotions and our scales. That is if you even have a scale. I'm still a little ticked my husband hid mine from me. LOL
So, thank you. Thank you all for taking the time and reading my crazy rants. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. Thank you to all the people who leave me comments. I really look forward to reading what you have to say and I love knowing that I can make your day a little better with my words. As long as I can make someone laugh, then I've done my job. So, I will keep writing if you keep reading. Let me know if there is anything that bothers you while going through this and maybe I can write about going through the same thing.
Now with all that mushy stuff out of the way, I am going to go ice my face and hope that my body doesn't start turning against me. I have promised it that I won't take anything else out of it (that I know of). Hopefully that promise will keep it working for a little bit longer. But for now, I need to give it what it wants...REST!!! Tomorrow I promise to write something a little more comical and sleeve based....if my body lets me, who knows, my fingers may go on strike because of the teeth. I'll have to wait and see.
****Disclaimer: As always, this is a comical view on everyday issues that happen to people (or at least me) who have had weight loss surgery. Please do not take this seriously. I just want you to enjoy it and hopefully finish with a smile on your face****
I know I am not supposed to weigh myself every day. But let's be realistic here. I'm fat. I've been fat most of my life. The scale has been the end all be all of weight loss or gain. It's hard to not get on it every morning with the hope that the numbers have gone down over night. It's not that I'm just watching what I eat and exercising. I had the majority of my stomach removed. I eat 400-600 calories a day (if that), and I exercise every day. Because of all this, I expect the scale to go down every day. But much to my amazement, it doesn't.
I've already written about how the numbers just don't add up. So, I am not going to address that again (even though I know my math isn't wrong!!). Now I am going to talk about our unrealistic goals when it comes to the scale. Or at least my unrealistic goals.
I am a reasonably intelligent person, who is of sound mind and body (most of the time). I know that stalls happen. I know that when you shock your body in the way that I did three weeks ago that my body will fight back. It's going to hold on to as much fat and water as it can as it thinks I'm starving it. I also know that I am gaining muscle which is leaner than fat. Notice how I didn't say that muscle weight more than fat? That because 1 pound equals one pound, no matter what the pound is of. One pound of fat is equal to one pound of feathers. So, for all the people who say this, please be aware that what you are saying is wrong. And, it really irks me. Not that you should care if it bothers me or not. It's not like you're ever going to meet me. But, even with all this knowledge, I still wake up every morning, pee, strip my clothes, exhale, and get on the scale. Isn't it funny how we've learned over the years to do all these little things in an attempt to have the scale read a lower number? And, since three days after surgery, the number on the scale hasn't changed. It's even gone up a pound or two at times. And to be honest, this has caused me more stress than the surgery has caused my body. I don't know how to handle the lack of movement. It's like I'm at a dance and everyone around me is moving and grooving and I am just standing there. I'm not even tapping my foot. It just doesn't make sense and I should be thrown off the dance floor.
This has caused me to have some unreasonable thoughts. Am I one of those people that surgery doesn't work for? If so, I'm going to be pissed. Now, not only will I not lose weight, I still can't eat food I like. That would just be a cruel, cruel joke. What did I do to ever deserve this? Am I just doing something really wrong? I am not sure how that's possible as I get my protein in and I do everything I've been taught in all my classes. I've even gone as far to think that maybe I am loosing too much weight that the scale can't understand what is going on so it stays on the same number just "because it can" . I know none of these thoughts make sense. I know I am a fool for thinking any of these but I just can't help it.
I am so obsessive about the number on the scale that I have begun to weigh myself throughout the day. Anytime I go into the bathroom, the thing is calling to me. It's like I'm dealing with a possessed electronic device and I've given into it with out any thought or use of any common sense. I swear I hear the voice from the "Exorcist" saying, "Come to me Tricia. Come stand on me. You know you want to. You can do. It only takes a second." Has the scale become my new obsession now that food can no longer be my anchor? And, if so, I have to admit that it's not making me feel as good as pizza, ice cream, or potato chips did. It actually makes me feel worse every time I use it. Then again, the food did the same thing but it took longer for me to feel bad about eating it. Now, I get the bad feelings but non of the reward (aka the good tasting food). So, after great thought and much consideration, I have decided that the scale is the devil. It is the down fall for so many of us. Even the ones who haven't had surgery. And with this knowledge, I've decided to take drastic measures to remove the temptation from my life.
So, I have thought about taking a sledge hammer to it. But there are two major issues with this approach. First, I don't own a sledge hammer and if I did, I am not sure I could life it. Aren't they really heavy? Second, after thinking about how much it cost and how much money I would just waste, I just can't do it. I can't waste money so "willie nillie". I don't' know about all of you, but I don't have loads of cash just hanging around. Because of that, I have to take care of the things I do own and there is no reason to damage something I know I will need again in the upcoming months. So, I plan to give it to my husband and have him hide it. That way, I won't waste the money that I don't have to waste nor will I end up in the hospital with my back going out from the weight of the sledgehammer that I don't own. This way, once a month I can pull it out and weigh myself.
No, my plan doesn't really "fix" my obsession. But it does take the thing that I'm obsessed with and remove it from my daily routine. I just hope I don't' turn into a "scale fend" and start ripping the house apart while screaming, "where is it? I know it's here somewhere? You don't understand, I need it. It's not bad for me. I promise to just use it this one time." But for some reason, i see this happening. Because, it doesn't matter what the addiction is, we all find ways to make it sound less bad for us.
So, I am going to head to the bathroom and pick up the scale and hand it over to my husband. I know he will be able to handle my craziness when I need my "fix". So, here I go, I am just going to march in there, pick it up and hand it to him. After I pee, strip my clothes off, and exhale just one more time. Come on, doesn't every one need that "last fix?"
I can't believe he did it. My husband actually hid my scale. What am I going to do? Does he not know I NEED that scale daily? I know I read the last post to him, but I didn't really think he would take it away and hide it. I noticed as I was peeing. I looked down and where the pretty digital scale used to sit, there was nothing but an empty floor. Flooring can't tell me how much I way. Doesn't he know this?
When I finished, I came out and sat down and had a little talk with my dear husband. he told me he would bring it out once a week for weigh ins. My response (and this is no lie), "What if you bring it out on my 'fat' day"? Then what?" With out missing a beat, he said, "Then I guess I will have to change days." Sometimes I hate him for being so fast on his feet. So, for now I am going through withdraw. Wish me luck. I know I can make it through this, but I also know how hard it's going to be. Anyone out there want to do the once a week weigh in with me? That may help knowing that other people have to wait for their weight too. Let me know and we can go through this together. I still can't believe he did it though. LOL
I thought I covered what type of blog I was writing in my first one. But, apparently, not everyone reads all the entries. So, from now on I think I am going to have to do the following.
*******DISCLAIMER!!!!! What you are about to read is to be taken lightly. It's goal is to make you smile, laugh, and hopefully see the funny side of going through weight loss surgery. This blog is in no way my feeble attempt to get advice (unless I ask for it), or to be told what I am doing or saying is wrong. We are all different. We all heal differently. We all experience different things. With all this in mind, please enjoy my take on life after the sleeve. I hope it helps make your day just a little bit easier and happier. *********
Now that all that is out of the way. I feel the need to talk about the looks I've been getting from people when I tell them I've had weight loss surgery. I actually find the looks funny. For example. Today I went to GNC to see if I could find some type of protein drink that I can actually handle. When I went in, I got attacked by the vulture (aka the sales man). So, I proceed to explain to him that I had weight loss surgery and I was looking for a protein that I could handle (and that tasted good). It was interesting to see the look on his face when I said the surgery thing. It was only a split second or two, but it was obvious that he did not approve of my surgery. Not that I asked or wanted his approval. All I wanted him to do was help me find some protein I could handle. So, I ignored him and followed him around the store as he explained to me how, everything "tastes amazing". I know not to trust sales people, but really, EVERYTHING??? I highly doubt that. We are talking about protein and I have rarely met a protein that I found "yummy". So, after he promised me I would "love" this one brand, I decided to throw him off his game. I asked if he had samples or if they sold them per bottle. I refused to buy a whole thing of them only to get home and find out I didn't like it. So again, the sly fox of a salesman pulled this one on me, "No, we don't. However, I will give you this bottle if you PROMISE not to tell my manager. I really am not allowed to do this." I actually laughed at him as I saw the bottles behind the counter that they used for such an occasion.. Did he really think I was going to buy that line? Well, as shocking as it sounds, it really wasn't that bad. It's called GNC Total Lean, Lean Shake. It has 25g of protein, 2g of sugar, 3g of fiber (which I really need but more on that later), total fat 6g, and 170 calories. I had to taste it warm and I was able to stand it so I am sure once it's ice cold, it will be much better. As a whole, the unapproving, over zealous salesman did a good job. And, he gave me the first, "I don't agree with your decision" look since my surgery which I kind of enjoyed in a strange way.
Next I headed to Walgreens. I needed a fiber supplement and I needed one fast. Not to give TMI, but my first number 2 after 9 days and two things of Miralax, was more like the number 2 of a VERY LARGE rabbit. It wasn't fun passing, and as soon as I was done, I was ready to find a way for that not to happen again. After staring at all my options for a good 15mins, I finally gave up and went to talk to the pharmacist. I proceeded to tell her my issue and included that I had the gastric sleeve and because i was unable to get much food in, my fiber was almost non-existing. There is was again....that LOOK. She took a little longer to recover than the GNC guy (if she did at all). Even while she was telling me about what fiber would be my best option, she was unable to hide her disapproval of my decision. So it was right then, in Walgreens that I decided. Screw YOU....SCREW ALL OF YOU who think you have any idea what I have gone through, or why I decided to do this. No one asked for your approval or disapproval so don't give it. And, if you do give it, be prepared for me to tell you I don't really care what you think. I did this for me. I did it for my health. I did it for my medical reasons. No, it's not easy. No, I couldn't just eat less and exercise. I've tried that. It didn't work. So, keep your two cents and I promise I won't judge you on your attitude (which sucks) , your clothing (I don't care what the magazines say, you do not look good in overly tight jeans and five inch heals), your hair (1980 called and they want their puffy bangs back) , your makeup (yes, it looks good on models, but you are not a model and you you didn't have a professional do it) , your marriage (don't lie and say you have a perfect marriage, we all know your spouse is not "running errands", he/she is running around on you), your children (a rough patch is a few months or back-talking not years of getting arrested and being pregnant at 12) ....or any other decision you've made or thing you've had happen during your life. If you don't want to be judged, DO NOT JUDGE.
Now, before I get attacked for children/marriage/clothing/hair/attitude thing. I know there are always other issues at play. I was just using these as examples of things people do talk about and look down at others for. Funny thing is, people will not be as blunt with their feelings with those people as they are with me for having weight loss surgery. And my decision is one to help me and make me healthier. Doesn't something just sound wrong with that?
* As Always, this is a comical view of weight loss surgery. I hope it makes you smile and if you're lucky, maybe even laugh.* For the full disclaimer, please read yesterday's blog post. **
It' been a little over two weeks and I have been following the plan. I get my protein and liquids in. I exercise almost every day. For the most part I think I am doing well. I have even managed to make it through the crazy mood swings which if you would have asked me a week ago I would have told you they would have been the cause of my marriage falling apart. I should have known things were going too well.
Last night around 9pm, I was starving. I have noticed the past couple of days I have been hungry around this time but I have just tried to focus on my liquids to fill me up. Well, last night I had to go to Walmart to pick up a few things. I figured getting out and doing something would help me stop wanting food. I also thought that maybe while I was there, I could find something soft that was high in protein that I could have as a snack. I couldn't have been more wrong.
My husband came with me because he too wanted something to snack on. Of course his snacks can range from potato chips, ice cream, little Debbie cakes, or anything else he he is in the mood for. Mind you, earlier he had pizza for dinner while I had my 2oz of tuna and my 2oz of lima beans. The smell of the pizza made me want to run across the room, jump on top of him and rip the slice of pepperoni pizza out of his hands. I didn't do this, but I did visualize it many times while taking my little bites of tuna and lima beans. And, no matter how hard I tried, the tuna never magically began to taste like pizza.
For the record, I am a strong woman. I can handle walking through the chip and candy aisle in the store. I can handle buying my husband things I won't be able to eat for over a year, and I can handle knowing that the surgery was not the end all be all of my weight loss. I am going to have to watch what I eat, get my protein in, and not eat sugar. What I couldn't handle last night for some reason was the realization that I can't have any of that stuff NOW.
The strange thing, which I tried to explain to my husband, was that I really didn't want candy, or chips, or sugar. I just wanted something that wasn't mush. i wanted something with some crunch and I only wanted a a small bite of it. But, no matter how I tried to explain it, I couldn't get my point across. My poor husband seemed so confused when i finished explaining my feelings. He kept trying to "fix it" by coming up with options (which none of them sounded good at all) which only made him feel frustrated for not being able to help. Then, it all boiled up inside of me. While my husband was deciding between sugary item 1 vs. sugary item 2, I lost it. I became the crazy witch that I thought I buried a week ago. Somehow she managed to claw her way up thought the dirt of her shallow grave and rear her ugly head. I finally snapped. I told him to buy them both so we could get out of there. He didn't get it. He continued to do the pros and cons between the two. I couldn't handle it. I grabbed both things and threw them in the cart before he could say another thing. I somehow made it through the check out line and out the door before I lost it. Once outside, the tears came. I couldn't even explain why I was crying. I didn't regret my surgery. I wasn't mad at my husband for getting real food and snacks. I just felt tired. Tired of trying to explain myself to my husband, tired of not having anything to eat that I really enjoyed. Tired of eating the same thing two times a day. I tried to voice my emotional breakdown but as much as my husband tried to understand, I couldn't even make my emotions make sense to me. Then again, what crazy person can make their craziness sound reasonable to others? That would be like being in an insane asylum am telling the doctor, "yes, I hear voices, and I know they aren't real so I think the medication and shock treatment would be the appropriate form of therapy right now." That doesn't happen, so why I thought I could explain my craziness, I can't even begin to understand.
I wish I could say that once I cried and got it all out, I felt better but I would be lying. I still want something different to eat. I miss bread. I miss chips, and I really miss ice cream. But I have to keep thinking that all those things were a huge cause of me getting to the point of having weight loss surgery. Why I want them now, I have no idea. Like I said, I think it's more that I want the option to have them more than I actually want them,. I don't want anything sweet. I don't want salty food. If you would have told me that I couldn't eat tuna, lima beans or apple sauce, I would be craving that. It's all psychological. Not that knowing that makes it easier. It actually makes me feel weak knowing it's in my head and I am still having it affect me like this.
Hopefully, my husband won't have to deal with the crazy crying lady again anytime soon. He doesn't like to see me like that and it makes him feel like he can't eat his foods in front of me. Despite me telling him numerous times that I don't care. I can see how the mixed signals could confuse him. I turned into that woman who says "No, I don't want anything for my birthday." but when my birthday comes I get upset he didn't give me a gift. If I was him, I wouldn't want to eat in front of me ever again. The poor man is walking a tight rope with no net under him. I think he's having it worse than I am even though I'm the one crying. The poor man thinks I think he's a monster when in reality, I'm the crazy witch that can't get her emotions under wraps. Hopefully for him and I, things will level out soon and my cravings will go away. If they don't, I may just rip that pizza out of his hands one night.
I don't know why I did it, maybe it was the pretty blue color that was calling my name. Maybe it was the infomercials showing all these woman with great arms. Maybe it was just to try one out and see if it works. Much to my husband's amusement, I did it, I bought a shake weight. My husband found this his opportunity to quote South Park and laugh at my purchase. I have to admit, the Shake Weight episode of South Park is one of the funniest ones I've ever seen. if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. With all that being said, I can now say I am proud owner of a light blue shake weight and despite what the infomercials say, it's not as easy as it looks.
First, it comes with a warning. I am not sure what the warning said as I ripped it off and threw it aside as I digressed into a five year old at Christmas and tore the box apart in an attempt to get to my new toy. Once I had it out, I began to shake. I followed the photos that were included in the box and I noticed a few things. First, if my Wii controller comes with a warning and a string to wear around wrist, then you would think and three pound bar that you shake while aiming at your face would come with some safety precautions as well. But it doesn't. Instead, it comes with mirrors on each end so you can see yourself as the bar flies up and hits you square in the mouth, breaking your front teeth, and causing your lip to swell up to double it size. I mean why else would they have the shinny mirrors on the ends?
Second, there is NO WAY you can do this exercise with out it looking sexual. I tried. The whole concept is some strange joke on all women. I think it's a ploy for us to be better at using our hands for "massages". If you ask any man, they will tell you woman can't massage that well...even though they tell us how good it feels. I think this exercise bar was invented so that men didn't have to sit (or lay) through a bad massage ever again. Now, think about this. Think about the positions the Shake Weight wants you to do. Each hand, two hands in front of your chest, off to the side and towards your face, and behind the head. Ok, I can't figure out this position, except that it gives men a great view of our chest as it bounces up and down as we are busy trying not to slam the Shake Weight into your head.
So, with all this knowledge, I still shake away. I am hoping my arms will become these beautiful cut arms that are only possible with Photoshop. I know it will take a lot of shaking and possibly a lot of bangs to the head and face, but I'm going to get my 15 bucks out of this thing. Then again, it could just be my concussion talking.
Ask anyone, I am not a numbers person. Math and science were not my strong points in school. Heck, I am not even sure they were a weak point with me. They seemed to be more nonexistent than anything. In high school, I fought to get a D in Chemistry and Geometry. I was good at Algebra, but most any other math based classes were able to strike fear in my heart with out even trying. My father never understood this as he was a math person. he could do almost any math problem in his head and within seconds. This only made my fear of math that much bigger. How could he make it so easy? Was I just an idiot who didn't get it? Would I ever get it? Did my IQ test lie? I must have scored much lower than the numbers said. Why else would I not be able to do what others considered simple math.
Then, when I was 26 years old, my now husband brought all those insecurities back on our first date. We were playing Trivia Pursuit and he got a geometry questions. I knew there was no way he would get the pie. I was feeling really good about my standing n the game when he asked for a pen and paper. "WHAT? You have got to be kidding me!!" He then rattled off the theory he needed to use and then proceed to plug int he numbers and draw designs I hadn't seen since high school. Needless to say, he got the answer right and won the pie piece. Right then, all my doubts came flooding back. Then jokingly I asked if he was some kind of a genus. He didn't want to answer but once pressed, he told me his IQ was 165. I just shook my head. How did I end up on a date with my father?
Now, I am not telling you this story in an attempt to say, "Look how smart my husband is!!!!! He's so cool. He can do math problems in his head." No, that is not my reason at all. I am telling you this in a feeble attempt to get you to understand that math and i have have a "hate, hate" relationship most of my life. With that said, I know I am still able to do simple math. But, after this surgery I am not sure if that statement is true anymore.
I joined Myfitnesspal.com yesterday. I logged in everything I ate and all the workouts I did. Every time I walked, I log it in with the amount of calories I burned. Now, it takes 3200 calories to make a pound. Which implies that if I burn more calories than I take in and it adds up to 3200 calories, I would lose a pound of fat. That to me makes sense. Well according to Myfitnespal.com, I burn/don't take in 1518 calories a day and have been doing this for the past eight days. I know this as I eat the same thing every day and work out around the same amount. With that being said, I should have lost a pound every other day (approximately) give or take a pound here and there. Now, if my math is right....and I will be the first to say that it may not be....I should have lost between 4-6 pounds in the last eight days. How may have I lost? NONE. ZIP. Absolutely nothing.
Now, I keep telling myself that I've been walking a lot, and I am sure I building muscle. But even knowing that, I think, doesn't muscle help burn more fat? So I am stuck back to the question, "Why isn't math working?" Is it because I am doing the math? Remember, math doesn't like me. So this could be it's attempt to get back at me after all the years I called it stupid. Maybe I hurt it's feelings and now it's out for revenge. I've even thought that maybe there are little math gremlins that stand on the scale with me (that I can't see over my belly) to make it does not change numbers. All I know is I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.
I know not to expect miracles. However, I did expect to lose weight once a week. I didn't care if it was a little or a lot. Even though I've read so many people say that there are times the scale just doesn't move, it still bothers me. When I run the numbers, it seems like I should have some downward movement. but I don't. Don't worry, I am not going to stop doing what I am doing. I will continue to follow my program and get in my protein and my liquids. Maybe I should give the math question to my father and husband and see what they come up with. Lord knows they are much better at the numbers thing than I am.
I will say this. If I don't see some movement (downward) in my scale soon....I am going to on math hunt. I promise that I will hunt down all those little gremlins and make them regret all the times they messed with me. Don't they know I'm sensitive right now? This is not the time for jokes when it comes to my weigh in. You will pay gremlins...you hear me? You will pay!!!
11 days ago I was wheeled back to the surgery room (yes, I remember this) and I told all the doctors, "Have fun taking the majority of my stomach out. I'm so ready for this...just don't mess up." The last thing I heard before I was knocked out was laughter. If you ask me, that's a great thing to hear before you undergo any major surgery. When I woke up, there wasn't any more laughing. Actually, I had Nurse Hatchet as my post op nurse. I remember thinking, "this lady is in the wrong field." She wouldn't listen to me when I told her how much pain I was in. All she would say was, "of course you're in pain, you just had surgery." Needless to say, the hospital messed up and didn't give me the right meds and that's why I was in so much pain. If Nurse Hatchet would have listened to the half asleep, babbling girl in post op, she may have noticed the hospital's mistakes and fixed them. Instead, I had to deal with horrific pain for 5 hours before my husband finally said something to the nurse who was caring for me in my room. Due to my chronic back pain, I am on some major feel good drugs. Knowing this, they still put me on medication that was lower than what I normally take. However, thanks to my passive aggressive (sometimes there's no passive about it) husband, I was placed on the correct meds and began healing.
Once I came home, I was shocked at all the gas I had to expel. While in the hospital all I did was burp a few times but once I got home, the gas couldn't find a way out fast enough. It didn't care why exit it used as long as it escaped. I learned that walking helped me get the gasses out even faster. The crazy thing is that no matter how long I walked, the gas seemed to wait to exit once I was done and in the house. My husband swears I held it in and let it out in the house on purpose just to prove he didn't marry a woman. He has told me multiple times this week that I am a man with a vagina....because no woman expels that much gas. To be honest, there were times I wondered if he was right.
Then came the mood swings. My moods were swinging around like the chimpanzees in your local zoo. Maybe even more accurate would be my moods were going up and down faster than any express elevator I've ever been on and the aftermath of my mood swings was equal to any hurricane that has ever passed through the area. To make it worse, all my anger was directed at my husband. He had a huge bulls-eye on him and I aimed for a perfect score as many times a day as I could. The worst part is that I felt myself verbally attacking the man I love and I couldn't stop myself. He could say, "how are you doing today?" and I would unleash my wrath upon him because he was being condescending or just plain overbearing. The poor man became so afraid to talk that even that began to piss me off. Lucky for my marriage, things have calmed down quit a bit. So for now, we are not headed to divorce, but this journey isn't over yet, so we'll see.
The other thing that I seem to worry about more than I ever have is my urine and bowel movements. I never thought I would care this much about how much I peed and what my poop looked like or why I haven't pooped. I feel like a mother changing her child's dippers except the baby is me and the dipper is the toilet. I found myself calling my sister and asking if it's normal that I haven't pooped in five days. Apparently it is. Good to know. Now I can sleep better.
It seems like in a week and a half, I have experienced some crazy things. I can't wait to see what other crazy things I experience down the road. No matter what they are, I will try to find the humor in them and share. Good luck to everyone else out there going through this. And, to the people who are just thinking about having this done. It's not easy, but it's not as hard as you might think it is either. Just make sure you find the funny in everything. Because if you can find something to make you laugh at it all, it's much easier to swallow than any crushed up pill you have to take after surgery.
Welcome. This blog is dedicated to all the people out there who didn't take the easy way out. It doesn't matter if you had the bypass, the sleeve, or the lap-band, it's not easy going through all the changes associated with weight loss surgery. This is why I wanted to bring some comedy to the table. I can't really bring anything else as I wouldn't be able to get it down but, laughter makes everything better and I hope this blog makes your experience just a little easier during those tough times.
I can't promise everything I type will be funny...hell, I can't even promise a little bit will be funny. All I can promise is that I will be honest, blunt, and sometimes I will look at situations a little differently than most people.
My name is Tricia and I have been fat my whole life. Even when I look back at photos of myself where I was "thin", I remember still feeling fat in compassion to my friends. However, I was always active and in shape so I didn't really let being the bigger one in my group bother me. Then when I was 20 years old and in college, I developed really bad back issues. In the past 17 years, I put on over 100lbs, began feeling like a blob, and I felt my self esteem fall drastically. Three years ago, I watched my sister, Cherie, go through gastric bypass surgery and I have to admit, watching her loose the weight made me very happy for her but not so happy with myself. I would watch her sit at family dinners and nibble on very little food and then announce how full she was. I remember thinking that I could never give up enjoying food like she did. But, the more she lost the more I thought about giving everything up just too be thin.
Then in December of 2010, my back finally gave out and I had to leave work. This was devastating for me as have always been a worker and the idea of going on disability was heart-wrenching for me. After many doctor's apts, I was told that I needed a new disc in my back but the only way to be able to have one is if I lost a LOT of weight. Apparently, fat people can't get new discs as the disc doesn't seem to set right. Who knew a titanium disc was so picky? So, I began the long process of nutrition classes, Life Skill classes, doctor's apts, and finally surgery. On April 12, 2012 I had Dr. Gail Wynn, from Christiana, De., remove a big portion of my stomach. Since then, I have experienced so many funny, strange, crazy things that I figured it would help if I shares some of them. I don't know if anyone will actually read this Blog, but at least I'm getting my thoughts out there. Hope you all enjoy them.
Guess what?!!! My husband gave me my scale back. Not sure how long I have it for, but at least I have it for today. So, after doing my morning bathroom ritual, I weighed myself. I am down 2.5 pounds since my last weigh in. Talk about feeling good about what I'm doing. It was so nice to see a change after all those times I got on it with no changes. It's sad and funny how a little thing like a scale can have such a huge impact on our emotions. If it doesn't change or heaven forbid it goes up, we are worse to deal with than someone going through menopause. But, if we lose, even if it's just a little bit, we are on the the complete opposite side of the spectrum. We are the life of the party. We are handing out hats, blow horns, and pureed cake (for all the other people). How did we every get to a place where a number would have such a huge bearing on our emotions? Did it start when we were little and we looked through Seventeen, Cosmo, or any other magazine that told us what a perfect body should look like? Did it happen when we had to get weighed in middle school in front of all our class mates? We were able to see what the average weight for people in our grade was (mine was 65-70 pounds), and how off we were from it (I was 100 pounds) and yes, I was considered FAT. It could have also came when we had to do the physical fitness thing for gym. I remember having to do pull ups and not being able to even bring my body up a little. Or the sit ups. How many can you do in a minute? Apparently I couldn't do nearly as many as the thin person next to me. What the rope climb? I couldn't even get to the first knot and it was right off the ground. Then there was the mile. Most people ran it in 8-10mins. I "ran" it in 20. Only to be told how I wasn't even close to the average. Listen to me Gym Teacher. You should be happy I even ran or attempted to run. I knew I would be the last person in but I still tried. I don't need to finally get through to the finish line to be told had badly I did. Then the worst part about it all? The shower. Trying to hid in the back and keep yourself covered as long as possible. I would jump in the shower when everyone else left and hurry up and jump out and get dressed with little to no time to spare. Having all the thin girls prance around the locker room didn't help me feel better about myself nor did watching those same stick figures weigh themselves and talk about how fat they were.
It is so sad how emotionally damaged we all were about our weight and how we looked (even the thin girls). I hope when I have children that I can make them see that they are beautiful no matter what a magazine says and no matter what their friends look like. But I know that media will still make it into her head and she will fight with it like we all have/still do.
Now, my second topic of the day. Hopefully not as depressing. I want to talk about the cost of healthy food. I have spent more money in the past month (since I can't eat much) than I did prior to having this surgery. For example. I buy Lean Shakes. On sale, I spent $60 for 24 bottles. That is just crazy. I think GNC knows that we will pay it for good tasting protein. There is no way it cost that much to make and ship. But, what do I do? Do I force myself to drink soemthing I hate with much less protein in it? No, I continue to drink these overpriced high protein shakes. I am praying that once it's no longer the "new thing" that the cost will go down dramatically. Then there is the cost of tuna fish. When did all white tuna begin to cost an arm and a leg? At my favorite store (please hear the sarcasm dripping from my lips) Walmart, I paid $1.85 a can. I swear I am buying caviar not tuna fish. There is no need for my tuna to cost almost $2.00 a can. I remember when I could get the same thing for .25 a can at the local grocery store. What happened to those days. And, for the record I am in my 30's so it wasn't that long ago. Next is fruits and veggies. Why do apples cost .99 a pound? I can't remember the cost of my spinach, but I do know it was high. My frozen blueberries were 11.50 for a large bag. Lima beans are $2 for a small frozen bag. Then, add in the fiber I have to take since this surgery, the vitamins, the calcium, and the B12 and I swear, my wallet and bank account are shrinking much faster than my waist is. No wonder the U.S is so fat. It cost less to go buy a double cheeseburger and fries from McDonald's than it does to buy a salad from Salad Works (or McDonald's for that matter......but we all know that the the McDonald's salad usually has just as much fat and sodium in it as the double cheeseburger). This is just ridiculous if you ask me. Fresh food should not be more expensive than processed food. Going through a drive through should not save me more money than going to the grocery store and stocking up on veggies and fruits and fresh meats. No wonder we all ended up where we did. Everyone wants to save money. No one wants to pay out more for food that may go bad faster than anything in a box or bag. I for one didn't like that idea and because of that, I would go for the cheaper, faster food.
Ok, I am done with my venting (some may call it something else ) I am sure I am not the only person who has noticed the cost of things or the need for the scale to give us the approval we never got from other people. I know I can't change any of it, but at least I can get my opinion out there and maybe if you agree, you can get your opinions out there too...and so on. Maybe one day, our children will not need to feel the need to starve themselves, or over eat in an attempt to feel some sort of relief from the social and media bombardment they experience. Woman have curves!!! We have boobs and hips. We have butts. And if you ask me, I think having all those things makes me beautiful. I have no desire to loose so much that I no longer look like a woman. I already miss the boobs and butt I've lost, but not as much as my husband.
