I had my first fill today. Since I was banded (4/30/12), I have had zero difficulty in eating anything. I haven't had any stuck episodes, I haven't thrown up. It's been all good, except for the first few days. I didn't know if I'd get a fill or not since my surgeon puts fluid in the band when the surgery is done.

My appointment was at 9:00am. I made these appointments early so I wouldn't miss too much work. By 11, they still couldn't find the port. The PA tried to find it blindly by poking at my stomach like I was the effin Pillsbury Doughboy and going "wow, there's a lot of scar tissue". Instead of doing the logical thing and NOT just kind of guessing where the port is, she tried to give my scar tissue a fill. Thanks. I'm thrilled that you're just poking me at random with a giant needle. It's cool. I needed some excitement in my life. We went down to radiology and I got to have that NOT MORTIFYING AT ALL EXPERIENCE again, but this time in a hospital gown. With an audience! Alright!! I guess it could be considered humbling (still trying to make that work), but really, it's just mortifying for me to be laying on a table with people I don't know poking at my stomach. I'm not exactly proud of my physique. Hell, I'll keep a tank top on if I'm having sex because of the way my stomach looks. Everybody's allowed to have a thing and that's mine. My ex was really self conscious about his rib cage. Everybody's got a thing. I could give two shits about my arm batwings or my rugby player calves. My thighs aren't bad (cause all the weight settled in my calves?), but I don't like my stomach exposed. Anyway, after what felt like an eternity of the PA and the radiology tech poking at me, they located and filled the band. I know it's ridiculous to be as upset as I was about all of the poking and prodding, but I ended up not going to work. Thank you, FMLA time, for making my neuroses possible. On the downside, I'm working Saturday, unless I can fit 8 hours of time into three workdays. It's supposed to be nice on Saturday, and my cousin finally got the pool open, and I do need some color (seriously - I'm the whitest full blooded Italian ever - the dayglo dago), so I will attempt to squeeze in 8 hours of time into three days. That's an extra two hours and some change every day. I think I can do it. Cue the Rocky music, I'm basically living at work for the next 3 days.

On the upside, I've lost 24 pounds since being banded. Apparently that's the good end of normal, so I'm happy. I was concerned that I might not be losing weight as fast as I should be, but my clothes fit better (and in some instances, fit properly for the first time) and it's sorta noticeable. I'm kind of mourning the loss of my once spectacular rack, though. I was talking with my friend yesterday and I was like "I can't explain it, but the big boobs are a part of me. I've always been the funny girl with the huge rack. I feel weird losing that". He didn't understand, though. I think it could be that he's never had boobs and therefore does not know what it's like when they pull this incredible shrinking routine.

I kind of forgot where I was going with this. I ramble on too damn much.