Tomorrow marks 4 weeks since I was banded. Things are going well, though for the past two weeks I've been absolutely crazy with work and tutoring and the theater. So here I am sitting in the taxi on my way to tutoring session one of two prior to going to the theater this evening and I'm typing up my update on the goings on.

Thursday, I bought sneakers. Not one pair. Two. It took me almost my entire shopping trip to pick out just the right shoes. Perhaps this is why I buy sneakers so infrequently. It's not my fault this country doesn't carry New Balance. If they did, I could've popped in, grabbed a pair of my usual sneakers, and popped out. And then I would've had time to go grocery shopping. As it is, today marks three weeks since I last went for groceries. I simply have no time. That's a lie. I don't make the time. And I don't like having to go to the grocery store that's open 24 hours because a) it's more expensive and inevitably there are small children wandering the aisles at 3am, which infuriates me.

Perhaps because I have been relying on canned soup or whatever I already had in the freezer, or because I haven't been heeding C's threats against riding the elevator, or because I've been royally stressed for the past two weeks of work, I don't know, maybe all three, I haven't been able to get beyond -18lbs. This I find to be terribly frustrating. One more pound and I've reached my first goal. One. Measly. Little. Pound. And it's not like I can take off my shoes or anything, because I weigh myself naked.

So, between IEP Progress Reports, Academic Progress Reports, my Professional Learning Plan, getting a new student three weeks ago who's much lower than my other students, and getting a new student this coming Sunday who's much higher than my other students and has no need to be in a special needs school, work has been really stressful. Add to that the fact that my coworkers keep commenting on how much weight I'm losing. I know they mean well, and I know it should make me happy, but the sick psychosis of things is that for a good portion of my life I wanted to pack on the weight. I wanted to hide behind fat and be unattractive. I've dealt with it. I really have. And I feel good about myself. As long as no one makes a big hairy deal about the fact that "it really shows" that I've been losing weight. Stupid brain.

Anywho, tomorrow is my official weigh in with my surgeon and hopefully my first fill. For the most part I'm not experiencing hunger, but I'm also not experiencing fullness. I really want that sign that I've had enough to eat. Here's hoping...