10 more lbs. gone forever, for a grand total off?38lbs!
I went to today for my 3rd weigh in/fill and was down another 10 pounds! Wooooo-hooooo! Every time I zip up a size 18, I still can’t believe it! It’s strange that I can pretty much predict down to the pound how much I’m going to loose every month…and yes, I only weight once a month. My mom asked me if I’d lost as much as I was hoping for, and I told her, “yes,” because even though I was hoping to loose 12-15 lbs, I knew that was unrealistic, and I knew going in that I was going to be down about 10 lbs. And really, when you think about it, what difference is two more pounds going to make? It’s not. It’s not like people won’t notice that you’ve lost 38 pounds, but they WILL notice 40? A steady loss of 2 lbs. a week is fine with me, hell, it’s more than fine; it’s GREAT!
So, here’s what’s weird…and this is sooooo difficult to explain to people who haven’t been banded. At my last fill, I actually felt real restriction, so for the first time in my life, I don’t obsess over food. I don’t binge. I don’t eat and eat and eat and then eat some more. Food has become a non-issue. When anyone asks where I want to eat, I tell them I don’t care; because I really don’t. It’s just not a big deal. So, what’s the problem? Here’s the problem: For almost my entire life I’ve been an addict. My eating disorder had as much of a hold on me as heroin would have on a junkie, or booze would have on an alcoholic. Now, when I’m not hungry, or I’m satisfied…when I’m not “using” food, I associate that feeling with “binging”. Does that make sense? It’s just that it’s been that way for SO long, that my mind has trouble accepting that I’m satisfied and not hungry, and it’s NOT because I’ve eaten everything in sight…it’s because I’m banded. So, I’ve walked around these past 5 weeks thinking, “Shit! I can’t believe I did that! How could I have eaten all that food? How could I go back to “using?” Then, I have to actively remind myself that I haven’t gone back to my old ways; I haven’t binged. It’s just strange…a good strange, but very unsettling all the same.
And, get this; I go in and tell my nurse that I don’t think I need a fill, but I’m not sure. She hooks me up and has me drink the “stuff,” and she says, “Oh yeah, you need a fill.” I ask her how she can tell, and she says that she can tell by how easily the liquid is going down. So, as I’m getting ready to leave, she reminds me that I won’t be back for three months, but if I need a fill I need to let them know. My thing is this; I won’t know if I need a fill. I didn’t know this time! I tell her this and she says, “Well if you find yourself getting hungry, then you know you need a fill.” O.K…I didn’t get hungry this time. And I won’t get hungry next time. I guess what I do, is just push it out of my head and ignore it. I joke around that I’m really good at being hungry, but I guess, it’s not a joke. It’s kind of pathetic in a way; I’m so used to being hungry that it’s normal now. Ah well, I guess that’s a concept only a former fat kid can grasp.
At any rate, I will close saying this: My life is so GREAT that I can’t believe it’s MINE!
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