5 and 1/2 weeks out, 21 pounds lost, weight 250

Well, I think I've finally hit a plateau. I've been dancing up and down the scale by 1 or 2 pounds since last week. I feel like I can eat more now than I could a couple of weeks ago. I can also tell that I don't have to be as careful about chewing really well and taking small bites anymore. I haven't had any 'stuck' sensations since early last week. This is not good! Get thee to a fill doctor!

One of the drawbacks about going to a highly reputable, highly acclaimed, and highly recommended doctor is that it is next to impossible to get an appointment with him. I called in May to make my 4 week post op appointment, which should have been on 6/16, and was told they had no openings until July, making me 8 weeks post op. I then asked if I could get an appointment for a fill at 6 weeks out, and 8 weeks out is the earliest they can squeeze me in. I want to go NOW! I'm addicted to seeing the scale go down! I went shopping this past weekend and bought a few things - I'm in desperate need of work pants, bc all of mine are falling off of me now. I was a size 24 pre-surgery - I tried on several pairs of pants and capris in size 20 this weekend, and was amazed that they fit already. Trying on smaller clothes is wonderfully encouraging - even at 251 pounds and a size 20, which is where some bandsters START their journey!

My face looks a lot thinner too, that's where I always lose it first. No one has commented on my 21 pound loss yet though, except my fabulous husband. Sadly, I suspect this means that I was so huge, it will probably take another 20 or 30 pounds coming off for anyone to notice anything different about me! I think that's all part of that phenomenon where you become invisible to people when you are fat..

For what it's worth, I have been feeling pretty good about myself lately. I've been using my inner voice to congratulate myself for making good food choices, and trying to give myself inner encouragement whenever possible. I'm still working on banishing the evil negative inner voice that tells me I'm destined to fail at this too. I know that voice is just scared of change, and is decidedly wrong. I will succeed!

In the midst of all this jubilance, however, a little barb to bring me back down to reality: my neices and nephews were visiting this weekend, and as I was bending over helping my 4 year old neice put on her PJ's, she eyed my ample midsection and asked, "Do you have a baby in your belly?" Ouch.

That question stung in many ways. Firstly, of course, that is the fat woman's most dreaded question, or more often, most feared assumption. Humiliating in any circumstance.

The first time it happened to me I was about 16 years old, working at my first job - a salesgirl at a local department store. I had come to work clad in a brand new Laura Ashley dress. Does anyone remember the style of Laura Ashley clothing back in the 80's? Think shapeless plaid, flowered, or striped cotton dresses, with no waist definition whatsoever, with prim starched white collars and mother-of-pearl buttons. They were all the rage in 1986, and all of the girls at school were wearing them. I was probably about a size 14, almost 16 at that time, so not monstrously obese by any stretch. But the thing about those dresses is that they went straight out and down, in pleats, from your boobs to the floor. And on me, instead of going straight to the floor, the pleats sort of rested on my ever protruding belly. So, anyway, picture me bouncing into work thinking how cute I am in my fashionable Laura Ashley dress. Then, as soon as I stepped out onto the sales floor, a catty, bratty, nasty teenaged co-worker immediately brayed in a super loud voice so that everyone in 3 surrounding departments overheard, "Oh my goodness!! Kristin, I didn't even know that you were pregnant!! When are you DUE??!!" The thing is, she KNEW that I wasn't pregnant, she was only being cruel and trying to embarrass me. Unfortunately, as we all know, kids can be very, very cruel. I was shocked into silence at first, then turned beet red and stammered a timorous refute, "I'm not pregnant...............", becoming increasingly more mortified as I realized that even though I couldn't bring MYSELF to finish that phrase out loud....EVERYONE else was thinking it in their heads: "................I'm just fat." Ugh. That goes down as one of the most awful and simultaneously life defining moments of my high school career.

So, my neice's question this weekend obviously paled in comparison to that. I'm older and wiser now and have a much thicker skin (and sadly, much larger waistline). But, her question was double barbed for me, because my husband and I have struggled with infertility for almost 4 years now. So, when she asked me if there was a baby in my belly, my first thought was of course, shame about my weight, But then, a flood of bitterness as I thought about just how very much I've wished and hoped and prayed that there WERE in fact, a baby in my belly. Siiiiigggghhh.....

But, improving my fertility was one of the most motivating factors for me in deciding to have this surgery. I know that every pound I lose lessens the hold that PCOS has on my poor ovaries. The further the scale goes down, the higher the chances climb that someday, I might know what's it like to proudly flaunt a growing belly, instead of trying to hide it in shame.