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Well, yesterday I was. I was happy for 5 minutes. Maybe 7. I didn't time it (though now I think maybe I should have). I had my weekly weigh in, and for the first time since the week after surgery, I actually lost 1 whole pound. Plus. I lost 1.8 lbs. Yippee! That's like a normal weight loss, right? That means I really CAN lose 1-2 lbs per week just like the surgeon told me. I can be a real bandster! I can lose this *#$#&$%@! weight in less than 5 years! I can do it! I ROOOOCCCCCKKKKKKK! Then I remembered that I lost 0 last week. Zero. Zilch. Goose eggs. The big nothing. Which meant that my mind automatically did the math (I hate when it does that. I hate math.) and calculated that this fact brought my average down to 0.9 lbs for those 2 weeks. Yup, less than a pound a week. Cue 3-year-old temper tantrum. It was a thing of beauty. Seriously. I scared the dogs. At this point, I'm seriously considering adding lithium to my list of supplements. These mood swings can't be healthy. Yesterday, I let my annoyance guide my eating (but I still tracked it all). Today, I'm back to sanity (or my version of it) and reminding myself that I get a fill next week. My second fill. One that will hopefully bring me that much closer to restriction. I want it so bad I can taste it, and it tastes like skinny.

March 6th had arrived. I was so freaking excited!! My parents had decided to take the boys to the lake for a week so I could recover. The only thing that was giving a twinge of worry was the drain. I am not good with medical things. I even hide my eyes and gag a little when a doctor gives a shot on TV. So this drain is a huge source of panic in my world. My surgery was scheduled for noon. I had to be at the hospital at 10 am. That gives me time to sleep in a little, spend a little time with my family, and reassure my husband that this is what I want to do. I am going to a side note here, but this is not a sillly observation, it is a sincere one. My husband is someone that I can say truely loves me. Not who I think I am or who I want to be, just me. He has loved me at size 12 (when he met me), size 18 (when he married me) and size 22 (when he followed me into the hospital that morning) and all the ups and downs in between. He has never made me feel fat or ugly. He is truely a beautful human being. When I made the decision to do this, I saw the panic on his face. Not because of the money or time, but because he said he is scared to live without me. I have had to give my brother my medical power or attorney because my husband said he won't pull the plug. He said he can't be the one to kill me. He did assure me that he respects my decision and will not fight my brother; he said he just can't be the one that makes that decision. So, at 9:30 we dropped my boys off at daycare. With tears in my eyes, I kissed them each good-bye. I knew that I was going to be fine, but there is always that chance. Telling your kids good-bye is a little scary when it might be the last time. I sent my step-daughter a message telling her I loved her. Then, we started out for the hospital. I was chatty and my husband was nervous. He did not feel like talking so we fussed at each other. I took it with a grain of salt. I knew he wasn't mad at me. When checked into the hospital, we were immediately sent to the pre-op (no time to change my mind). I weighed in there and I had officially lost 20 pounds before my surgery. Woo-hoo!!! I was put in my room, changed my clothes, and met all the pre-op nurses. My parents and mother-in-law joined us and helped me pass the time. I cherish those moments. I guess when you are in a situation like this, you sit back and thank God for the little things that make us happy and my family is it. The nurses came in and tried to start an IV. Because I had been on a liquid diet for a week and clear liquids the day before and NPO since midnight, I was a little dehydrated. It took two nurses one hour to find a vein they could use. They kept saying, "Your veins are so deep". (Sidenote: If any of you are nurses reading this, when you say something like "your veins are so deep" what your patient hears is "You are so fat, your arms are even carrying a load. Stop eating cake, fat butt" Well, they finally got the IV started in my hand using a baby needle. If that didn't solidify my decision about having this surgery I don't know what could have. The time had come and they were finally wheeling me to the OR. The nurses are just talking away. I finally looked up and said "You know I know what you are saying". The nurse looked at me in shock. They apparently forgot to give me the wacky juice I was supposed to get before they carted me off. When I got to the OR, a line of nurses was waiting for me. They even did the wave as I passed by. I said "They forgot the wacky juice, I am soooo going to remember you doing that!" Everyone laughed and began talking at once. I was able to help them get me to the operating bed. I talked to the doctor that was going to put me to sleep (Side note: I know what the name is and no idea how to spell it, so don't judge!) I mentioned to him that I was going to remember speaking to him and I BETTER NOT remember any of that surgery. He promised me that he hasn't had a patient remember in 18 years, and he promised not to blemish that record. Thankfully, he was right. Unfortunately, when I woke up, I did not like him or anyone else very much. I HURT!!!!!. . .

I weighed this morning and have lost 4.4lbs so far on the liquid diet. With all of the "necessities" out of the way (doctor's visits, tests, sleep study, etc), now it's just down to me focusing on staying on the liquid diet. Somehow it seems sorta "anti-climatic" now. I have this sort of "let down" feeling. Not in a bad way, but just that there's nothing in the immediate future for me to focus on, other than my surgery. Down to 6 days now (yayyyy). I'm afraid they will pass really slow, or really fast! I'm looking forward to getting this done, and feeling healthier, but I'm not very good at being patient, so I have no idea how I will be feeling over the next 6 days.

When I began this journey I did it with gusto. I am the type of person that makes a decision, and it is done. I do not dwell on the decision. I accept the consequences as best I can and move on to the next decision. In August I decided I was finished being fat! I lost 50 lbs a few years ago. Then I got pregnant, put on bed rest my first trimester and the rest is history. I am now a 100 lbs overweight. I am a pretty typical person. I teach high school. I am married with 2 sons (1 and 5) and 1 step daughter (13). I am 35 years old. I have fought my weight my whole life. Bones only, I will be lucky to be a size 9. I actually look sick at a size 12. My goal is to be a size 14. Isn't that weird? I want to be what most people believe is over weight. I am ok with that. I do not want to be a model. I just want to be healthy and I want to shop somewhere besides Lane Bryan and I want to look at something and not think about whether I will fit in it. One of my favorite commercials is the one with lady walking down the street with a scale attached to her ankle. It was a weight loss commerical. (Go figure). I think that is the most PROFOUND commercial. I am that woman. Everyday I have weight on my mind. Everybite I take I decide where it is going to go. This bite will go to my hips, this one to my right breast, ect. Sidenote: Have you ever wondered why you lose weight in your boobs first? I do. Then all my shirts fit my hips, but my clevage hangs out for the world to see. Solution: layer. I put a tank under my tops and poof. . .add an extra size on my hips. Who layers when you are size 22? I mean really? Once I decided to have the sleeve surgery, I became very excited. They told me that my insurance paid, and all I had to do was pick a date. I went for my consulation. The doctor told me the three types of surgeries to choose from and suggested the sleeve surgery for me. I researched it and decided that this was it. All I had to do was pick a date. I decided that I wanted to do it the week before Thanksgiving. Then I would only have to take 4 days off, I could be skinny by New Years. . .win-win. Yeah, right. When does anything like that happen so easy? After my consultation, the nurse called to tell me that the insurance now said I had to wait 6 months before I could have my surgery. My husband also decided at this point to have medical issues that would take any extra money that we had. As a good Catholic girl, I believe in signs. I decided that all the signs were pointing to me not having the surgery. I continued going to the dietician with little enthusiasm. I watched my weight go up and up as she told me what I was doing wrong. I wanted to tell her "I know what I am doing wrong. I know how to gain weight and lose weight. I have done it a million times. Why do you think I am fat?" So, as all the signs on the map told me to give up on the idea, I get a phone call from my doctor out of the blue. It was a sign! He was so nice. He said he just wanted to check on me. We talked about the surgery and what was keeping me from having it. Turns out, my surgeon is as much a shrink as he is a weightloss doctor. We decided that I would still do the surgery, but I would wait until Spring Break. That would give me a chance to enjoy the holidays (and there is nothing like the holidays when you are larger than life!). On January 1st, I joined a gym and started trying to lose weight again. I set my date for March 6th. In the two months leading up to my surgery, I was able to lose 10 lbs all by myself. I felt defeated. I mean, I was eating right, I was exercising five days a week and nothing. I say I was eating right. I was eating the right things, but I was still unable to pass up a cake or cookie. I was still hating myself for being so weak. When i finally started the pre-op diet, I had a renewed sense of self-worth. For one week, I had to drink my diet. My docotor told me there are very few things that I can control in a surgery, this diet was one of them. And as I stated, "I did it with gusto!" I monitored my intake, I followed the rules. I was going to make sure my liver was a skinny as it could possibly be. (Side note, why do doctors feel the need to tell us we have a fatty liver? I want to respond, "I have a fat butt too, but you don't state that obvious"). So March 6th arrives and it is surgery day . . .