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NOTE: As always, this is a funny look at the things that have happened/are happening as I continue on my weight loss journey. I in NO way plan to replace food with alcohol or need to be told how bad I am for drinking one night with a friend (mind you it's a friend I haven't seen in 15 years). Please don't feel the need to lecture me or get passive aggressive with your comments. As my regular readers know, I am just giving a comedic side to WLS. Also, remember that everyone's journey is different and just becasue I may or may not be doing it the same way you are, does not mean that I am better or worse than anyone else. Ok, I think I covered it all. As always, enjoy and I hope the story puts a smile on your face. Sorry it's been so long since I've blogged but I've been one little busy beaver. I had my friend and her family in from Costa Rica, then my friend from Ireland came in for two weeks (she is still here), and while she was here, my brother-in-law and niece came for a two night visit. Needless to say, I've been the hostess with the mostest. I've really missed doing my blogs. They seem to keep me focused and help me put things in perspective. I've also not had time to do myfitnesspal.com. So, for about a week and a half, I haven't written any of my food intake down. That just makes me feel like I've been a bad, bad girl....and not in a kinky good way. (sorry, those hormones are still pouring out of the fat cells LOL) Anyway, I have so many stories for you all. I wish I could just sit down and type them all for you but I can't so today I am going to let you know about my first drinking experience since the sleeve and the interesting things I've learned from that experience. I hope I can give you a good idea of how the night went as I am not sure if I remember it all....but more on that later. First, you have to understand how I met my Irish friend Cat. 15 years ago, I worked and lived at the beach. Cat worked at the same place and even though she didn't live with me, I swear there were times I thought she did. We were 21/22 and we were having fun. We worked hard and played harder. We spent many nights at a bar across the street from my house and only a 1/2 block away from work. I somehow was able to keep up with all the Irish kids that were in town for the summer. I could go one for one with them with any drink (except Guinness. That stuff is REALLY thick). I was even told I had become an honorary Irish lassie ( I even learned most of the Irish pub songs that they sang). I tell you all this to explain that after 15 years, loosing more than 1/2 my stomach, and a lot of weight I for some reason thought I could still drink like a fish. Never mind the fact that I haven't drank in almost a year (except for an occasional glass of wine or a night cap). So, we go into a local bar and order two drinks. I got a L.I.T (long island iced tea) as I have always enjoyed them when they are done well. As I drank my drink and did some catching up with my friend, I could feel the effects of the liquor seeping into my blood. I won't lie, I enjoyed it. Paying less to feel this way was great (before anyone freaks, I don't plan to go out drinking on a regular basis......BUT....it was nice to go out and spend less money and get tipsy). This is about the time I knew the night was getting ready to change. The bartender (a little bored) asked if we wanted shots. "Are you buying them for us?" I asked. Of course he wasn't but after talking it over with Cat, we decided, "Hey, why not"? Now as I explained already, I haven't seen Cat for a long time and we needed to go on "a tear". Patron it was. Lick. Slam. Suck. OHHHHH how smooth. Now, from that moment on, the night began to just blend together. I know I played pool...and lost. (wonder why!!!) The drinks went down easier than I ever remember them going down and I have to admit, I was enjoying myself. Through it all, I never felt “drunk”. I mostly felt tipsy and then I would feel mostly sober....then tipsy again...and so on and so forth. I never thought anything about it as I was having fun and enjoying being out and about...the alcohol was just an added positive. Then, we decided to go to another bar only a block or two away. Now, you have to understand that drinking and feeling tipsy was a whole new experience to me. I would go from being (or should I say feeling) sober then in just a few moments, I would be “footloose and fancy free”. The back and forth wold happen so fast, it wouldn't make any sense but to be honest, I wasn’t trying to make sense out it as I really didn’t care.. So, when we left to go to the other bar, I REALLY thought I was sober...that is until the curb jumped up and tripped me. I know it grew at least a foot with out telling me. There is no way a sober gal, like myself, could have missed that curb. Then, as always, I did my thing. I fell. I fell hard...and I fell fast. My knee was the only thing between my face and the pavement and because of that it was all scrapped up. Even my hands had stones imbedded in them, and I am sure I messed up my back just a little more than it was. It was such a hard fall that even the person driving passed stopped to make sure I was alright. Poor Cat, was so concerned, and all I could say was, "Really, I had to fall TONIGHT?" LOL...then it happened. I felt DRUNK. I collected myself, raised myself up from the ground, dusted off my knees and hands and tried to focus on the person only a foot away from me. Needless to say, it took awhile to focus....mostly because my glasses went flying off my face were now in Cat’s hands. Not seeing well is only intensified when your half blind. LOL Once I put on my glasses, Cat and I began the walk (she walked I stumbled) to the other bar. Then it hit me when we were almost there. I was sober. It was like I hadn’t had a drink at all. How was this even possible? So, I did what any sober person of sound mind and body would do....I ordered a drink. LOL As I was sipping on my drink, we decided to get something to eat. I also figured that maybe getting a little food in my tiny stomach may help....it didn’t. I still went back and forth from sober and drunk but now it was happening faster than I can even begin to describe. After finishing up there, it was time to get home. Yes, we were safe about it and no, we didn't just wait for me to "feel sober".. I thought my husband would find my stories funny...and he did when I told them to him sober. But BAM, next thing you know I’m drunk again. This of course caused an argument. Now, I should be more honest. My lack of knowing when to just keep my mouth shut and go to bed is what caused the argument....nothing else. But for some reason I felt it would be a great idea to go for a walk. So I walked out the door and made it down three steps and then THUMP....yes, that’s right, I fell down the steps. I figured this would be a good time to go back inside with my head down and my tail between my legs. Once I did that and listened to my husband give me a very short lecture, I took my Tylenol and went to bed. When I awoke the next morning, I remembered why it was that I no longer drink like I am still in college and then I then looked at my knee. I should say I felt my knee...then I looked at it. Yep, it was bad. It was all scrapped up and swollen. It was so stiff that I was unable to walk down the steps of my condo to get to the pool. I felt like a total gimp having to take the elevator because I was sloppy drunk...or should I say a sloppy sober one minute, drunk the other person? Anyway, .I did get the to pool and worked it out. I had to as the day after my Irish drinking reunion, I had my 20th H.S. reunion (more on that tomorrow) and I figured I would have to be able to walk that night for it. It worked. I got my knee working (and ended up hurting my shin...not sure how), and I was ready to face all the people from H.S....or at least as ready as I'd ever be. Funny thing is, I was more upset to realize that I was no longer Irish!!! Apparently when they took my stomach, the doctors also took my Irish drinking crown as well. Needless to say, lesson learned. Funny thing is, I am sure it won’t be the first or the last lesson I learn after having this surgery....I mean it’s only been three months. But to be honest, this lesson was a fun one to learn...up to the point I fell down...no, that didn't damper the mood.....it was fun until I woke up the next day hung over. LOL

I have a few things to get off of my chest today not to mention the 150 lbs. that I need to lose. As I sit here at my window seat desk, I can see my reflection staring back at me. It disgusts me to see the rolls of fat as I sit crunched in this office chair. My uniform shirts seem to shrink even though I wash them in cold water and hang them to dry. I have my fan blowing on my face because it is hot, (105-108 heat index today) but I would rather put a jacket on to cover up the rolls of fat because I don't want anyone seeing them. Like people can't look at me with or without a jacket and tell that I am morbidly obese right? Anyway, I just want to sneeze, blink or click my heals together and the weight be gone. I failed to mention that another thing that I am constantly worrying about while I sit in my chair at work. There are offic chairs for normal size people and office chairs for fat people. So who wants to seriously go to the office supply purchasing agent and say "I need a fat persons chair"? Not me. One day while sitting here I heard a loud pop. I instantly jumped out of my chair and examined it. Everything looked fine so I gently sat my large ass on the edge of the chair unsure of what had just happened. Suddenly, a loud noise that sounded like a gun shot went off drawing everyones attention to me ( I sit in a cube with 7 other people and none of them are FAT! I jumped up out of the chair and the spring mechanism had broken, stripped, gave out or just decided that it couldn't take my fat ass anymore . Oh yeah, I forgot to add that this chair was only 9 months old. So, daily I hold my breath and hope that it doesn't happen again before I can get this weight off. I am sure that no one else has ever had anything like this happen to them, RIGHT? : )

I had my aftercare appointment today and I broke the 180 mark. FINALLY! I weighed in at 178.2 today. After talking to the NP we decided not to do a fill. She stated "You have lost more than 66% of your body mass and we except 50% at the one year mark." She also stated "You have lost a great deal already now you are just going to have to change things up." So we decide to change up my exercise routines and see if a see better results in the weeks to come. I do see my doctor next week and I'm going to see what he has to say and move on from there. I feel so much better after my visit today and I am thankful I am still losing!

Week 17 Last week’s weight – 204 This week’s weight – 202.8 Total weight lost this week – 1.2 lbs Total weight loss since surgery – 43.2 lbs Average weekly weight loss since surgery – 2.4 lbs I am very happy to see a loss this week. I lost the .2 I had gained last week and another pound. I am past the WOW stage of weight loss (where I see a massive amount of weight – which I say is anything over 1.5 pounds – melting off of me). I’m now in the “recommended” level of weight loss – approximately .5 to 1 pound a week. I’m still exercising (walking 3 miles most mornings) and I started adding in some light weight training afterward. I use the exercises in the book 8 Minutes in the Morning by Jorge Cruise. His basic premise is if you add in some very moderate weight you will see a bump in your weight loss as muscle burns more than fat. I’ve only done it six mornings so I can’t really give it a solid review (I’ve had the book on my shelf for YEARS). I didn’t like the order of the activities so I cut out the exercises and rearranged them so they made sense to me (essentially I don’t want to have to get up off the floor to do a standing exercise so I do two floor exercises instead). There were some complaints about that on Amazon after I bought the book so I thought I would solve the problem myself (although I hate cutting up a book L). I had a training class that involved eating out every meal for three days. I thought I did pretty well with my low carb choices and I kept at least half of every meal for breakfast the next day. Lunch was a cold cut sandwich bar and I just steered clear of the bread. I did have wine several nights (the hotel had a free happy hour – hard to turn that down!) but I made sure to exercise while I was away. I weighed myself when I got back to see the damage and I had lost the .2 pounds I had gained last week. I don’t tend to weigh myself everyday but I do weigh myself once a week. I have a girl friend that doesn’t weigh regularly and she recently stepped on the scale and was in shock she was at 220 (from 180). I think the weekly weigh in keeps me accountable (as well as posting on this blog). I bought a new bathing suit at Kmart this week (all their suits were on sale I bought a regular size 18 bottom and I couldn't find a matching size top so I got an 18W top - I need to have my mother-in-law bring up the straps in the back so it gives me more chest support but still from a size 22 that is not bad!). I had to donate my size 22 one from Lands End because it was too baggy. My other suit is all black and I wanted something more colorful. A friend took this picture of me at the beach. Normally I wouldn't have let her but I figured I might need a comparison shot as we go into next summer and I am hopefully at my goal weight. My challenges this coming week – Going out with a friend to Olive Garden (already looked up low carb options and will limit myself to one glass of wine). In a training class two days and it most likely will involve lunch out both days Taking a friend for a medical treatment out of state and will be eating out 4 days (hoping the hotel has a workout room). I’ll let you know how I do next week!

Tuesday 07-24-2012 6:41 pm So although I've been a member of VST for a couple of weeks maybe and really, started my journey to WLS on March 4, I am first finding myself type something out to be able to reflect back at all of what I've been through. My first thought is- for pete sake- I'm a licensed psychotherapist who has encouraged LOTS of people to journal and where the heck have I been? Lazy. Story of my life My second thought is that I must first comment on my experience on this forum and the VST peeps I've been getting to know through their own journeys. I cannot tell you how inspired I am by so many others who have either gone through similar walks of life or who are going through it. I don't feel alone anymore which is so relieving in and of itself. In this career, I hear many reasons why we choose the profession we are in. For me, it really was nothing about my personal life as it was my true desire to know the brain and study human behavior. So, because of this, I feel my family and friends have highly underestimated my strength at times. Sometimes, even we need a little extra support. I'm probably the biggest person who will dispute this so to put so much emphasis on what others this of me isn't fair really. But it's easier. So, again, I have no major underlying issues. Sure, we all have our "stuff" but I can tell you that I have been through therapy many times with my marriage and honestly, have benefited greatly. I check in with close friends and colleagues as I believe that's just part of my life now- I need to do that...for me. Back to how I got here. Well, I'm not exactly sure HOW I got this so out of control. I do know that I have always struggled with weight but I really have carried it well in my life. I have watched friends and family go through surgeries for weight loss and always believed I ddin't need to do that. Then one day I was dx with autoimmune disorder which really- the only symptom that I have is extreme fatigue and with that comes lack of ambition to do anything. The process of finding the right doctor was exhausting but after years of battling this, I did. But he wanted me to go on a medication that could cause blindness AND he wasn't guarenteeing that this would help fatigue as this is difficult to control. (Have you heard of Plaquinil? I know some have as I have read other's posts about it). Well.....I decided not to do it. So the next year I spent extremely tired; no.... exhausted. Heck, if I didn't know better, I probably would have dx me with depression BUT I WASN"T DEPRESSED. I gained probably another 30 pounds (that was my last straw- I could have cared less that I didn't clean my house like I wanted to or do more things...it was the weight)....So my husband convinced me to try the med. "Just try it". Wouldn't you know it- it was a matter of 2 weeks and I had some of that energy back. I was on it for about a year and I did lose about 15 of those pounds. Then I gradually took myself off. Dr. asked to decrease so I just kept forgetting and then before you know it, I'm off. Then I'm gaining weight again. One would think an educated person such as myself would put 2 and 2 together. Common sense isn't necessarily a subject in college or grad school I didn't want to go back on the med. My doc had told me that exericse was really good too. Yeah, I hate exercising and try convincing someone who has absolutely nothing to give.....to give. It wasn't easy. THEN it happend. I got a new job and found out insurance did not exclude WLS. I cannot tell you how elated I was. I had my appointments all lined up as soon as insurance kicked in. All they require is a 6 month professional weight loss program documented. R U KIDDING ME? I've been through EVERYTHING at LEAST 1,0000000000 times. But nothing recording for 6 months consecutively. So here I go. But who cares right? My benefits at my new job don't kick in until I'm there six months anyway so no worries. Well, I've hit the six month mark at work. My last NUT appt (actually with the PA) is August 13. I told her I have a date in my head of Sept 10. She was excited and told me that they will have everything ready that day so all they have to do is print out her note and send it on. Insurance has 14 buisness days to respond. That quite possibly will be the longest wait of my life. We will see (because these days are long as well). I can tell you I've gained weight at every single appt with the NUT. I'm trying things they say and I KNOW I will follow through after. Remember my energy level is nothing. I didn't have them document the autoimmune stuff (although they do know) as I don't believe it's life threatening- I went to have my fatigue treated and it was totally up to me and nothing more. My feeling is that I want to see how weight loss effects my health rather than relying on meds so I'm dealing. I was worried about the weight gain but the PA tells me not to be concnerned. I'm going to go with that because if I don't....I'll drive myself crazy...... So the countdown begins....to my new life....on this new journey... I know life will change for me drastically. I'm ready....for whatever that means. And I will journal through it---- because I know that it's helpful and I also know- I have a great support system with VST PEEPS. Thank you for listening..... Justine........

I've decided that I was going to attempt to start a blog to use as a sort of open online journal / diary of how I got here and what I'm doing or not doing to contribute to my weight loss success or lack thereof. If this helps anyone who takes the time to read it, great. Some of you might find it a good read or facinating, or humorous at times or maybe inspirational or a source of motivation, while others might find it to be a boring bunch of crap. Either way is fine with me. I guess if I'm going to do this, I might as well start at the beginning, or at least what I consider to be the beginning. I was born and raised in Connecticut in an Italian household where food was more than just sustanence, it was a means of showing love, gratitude, hospitality and probably a million other things. As soon as you walked in the door, my grandmother would see that as a signal to head for the fridge to find something, anything....even leftovers to spring on you. And God help you if you said no thank you or "I'm not hungry". To Gram (as I called her) everyone was ALWAYS hungry, or was supposed to be! If you were a friend, she'd just ignore you as she was preparing something for you to eat (I always thought she did this because if you said you didn't want anything, she figured you just didn't know what you were talking about....of course you wanted to eat!) and if you were family, you might get a slap across the back of the head, followed by a meal in front of you and a "shuddup and eat". One thing which we seemed to always have was gravy (we NEVER called it sauce) and meatballs, whether fresh made, which was every Sunday, or leftover. Sadly, Gram passed away in 1984 at 76 years old, but I swear to this day I have never tasted better meatballs by anyone, including myself, who was taught by her how to make them, or any restaurant EVER! She even taught me how to make homemade pasta, including ravioli, from scratch. I can remember clearly the day before Easter in 1983. We were in her kitchen until 2 in the morning making dough, rolling dough, making the ricotta filling and making the ravioli and cavitelli for tomorrows Easter dinner. We'd lay them out on a sheet on her bed to dry so we could cook them the next afternoon. I was the one grandson (she had 6 of us who all lived either on the same street or around the corner....a REAL Italian neighboorhood!) who took an interest in how she made stuff, and to her I was gonna be the one who took over after she couldn't do it anymore. Little did we know, she would sadly be gone the following year. Let me say here, even though I haven't yet mentioned my mother, she was no slouch when it came to cooking either....after all, she was Grams daughter and she was right in there with us most of the time, and her "gravy" was the best! My mother and father (he was Irish) were divorced when I was 8 and my sister was 2, and we were raised by my mom and Gram. I don't think there was any joint custody in those days...the kids always went with the mother and personally, I am glad it was that way. So, as I mentioned earlier, we had relatives all around us so no matter whose house you went to, there was usually something waiting for you to fill your face with. If I went around the block to my aunt's house to see if my cousins could come out and play, the usual answer was, "Sure, but get in here and eat something first". As a teenager, our Sunday routine was 9 o'clock mass, then home for some fried meatballs (they were always fried in olive oil, never baked) of which a 1/2 dozen or so were left out for us while the rest went straight from the frying pan to the now boiling pot of gravy to finish cooking. Some already browned Italian sausage (or sau-seege) as she called it was also left out. Me and usually one of my cousins would wolf those down with a couple of cups of coffee before heading out to the Italian bakery for some fresh Italian bread and grinder rolls. We loved this because the bread and grinders were always right out of the oven! We didn't even mind standing in the line that formed outside the bakery and sometimes halfway down the street because we could smell the bread and socialize with the other kids and neighbors who were in line also. (It wasn't just OUR Sunday ritual!) Then, after a stop at the Italian import store for some pepperoni, cappicola, provolone and whatever else Gram, my mother and aunt wanted we'd head back home where we would immediately start tearing off hunks of that fresh Italian bread and dipping them in the gravy until we either got yelled at for almost eating all the bread (after all, it was for Sunday dinner for the family) or chased out of the house by Gram or my mother wielding a wooden spoon at us like it was a broadsword. There was one thing about my childhood which wasn't so idyllic as far as food and eating go. There were a few things I wasn't particularly crazy for like homemade soup, canned asparagus, and over easy eggs for example. I can remember being around 10 or 11 years old, and perhaps younger when I was "forced" to eat that stuff. I'm 56 now so we're talking about the early to mid 1960's here, in a household where you ate what was put in front of you. We were by no means even middle class then so the menu wasn't very diverse and you didn't waste food because; one, we didn't have the money to cater to everyones particular tastes and two, according to them wasting food is a sin. So, not only did I have to eat this stuff (funny how in later years I grew to love homemade soup, grilled or sauteed asparagus and eggs!) but I had to finish everything in my bowl or on my plate. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was a little timer on the kitchen stove which they would set if I seemed to be stalling with my food. If that timer went off and I wasn't finished, they would REFILL MY PLATE AGAIN! Now, on this point I want to be clear. This wasn't done out of any type of abusive mean behavior, it was because they wanted to make sure I ate because believe it or not, I was a skinny kid. But this instilled 2 things in me which would become demons of mine later in life: 1. Eat everything on your plate. 2. Eat it fast. Next Week - Teens and 20's - Sports, Late Night Eating and a Wife

So, last night as I soaked in the tub and smoked a joint (oh, that tends to happen quite often so if you're opposed to reading about bad habits and debauchery, you'll need to carry on), I pondered the workings and purpose of this blog. I'm not sure if a WLS forum is the best place for me to spill my emotional guts, but most of my dysfunction is related to being a fat girl. So, why not? Too bad there's that whole "it feels like anonymous venting" and "I'm really just a narcissist" paradox. But anyway, I digress. So, I am a fairly goal oriented person. I do better with deadlines. And, I know that the lifestyle changes involved in losing weight are forever, but I do better with discomfort when there's an end in sight. The other part of my bath tub ponderings included memories of many of my bubble baths. They're my time to think. My time to pray. My time to plan. To over analyze. To cry. To get high. To question myself. To challenge myself. To deep condition and clean my pores. I started thinking about how it's refreshing that my attitude and overall feelings on life have improved so much from just three months ago. Three months ago I had a bone crushing breakup. My heart turned to powder. I swore I'd never love again. And, with Adele's album 21 as a soundtrack! It was torture. And, I never thought I'd get over him. And so here I am. It's three months later. I've started dating again. And, I've had some really terrific dates. And, seem to suddenly have a few interesting prospects. We'll see.. Anyway, it only took me 3 months to grow back my heart. And, to get the kick in my step again. To get the hitch in my giddy up. So, where do I want to be in 3 months from now?! Let's see. It will be close to Halloween! My favorite holiday! What would happen if I committed to this silly blog for the next 3 months? And focused on my weight loss. And blogged about it. Where will I be in three months? Where CAN I be?! A lot can happen in 90 days, my friends. Where will YOU be? Let's find out, shall we!?

So, Day 8 is here and I can't believe what a difference I feel every day. I was still hurting on Friday (Day 5) and every day since I have woken up feeling better and better. The neck pain can still get pretty bad, so I cut back to 3 oz. of liquid at a time and it was a big difference. I am down 19 lbs. since I started my pre op, I am not starving or feeling deprived. I am learning to eat to live. Don't get me wrong, I would love to have the flavor of a good steak or some lasagna....but I know what the consequences will bring and that's just terrifying. My fear of throwing up is enough keep me dedicated. I am walking 1 mile a day...it's a start. I sat in one of those full body massage chairs at the gym today, WHOA!! That is worth going to the gym everyday. I need to do that after my walk though, I sure didn't feel like getting on the treadmill after that. Okay, time to sit back and enjoy the evening.

My journey toward slimming down and a healthier me begins tomorrow with the liquid pre-op diet. I'm excited and praying for strength to get through all that awaits me on this journey. It won't be easy, I know; yet I am confident it will be the best thing that I've ever done for myself. Actually, when I think about it, my journey really began in February when I went for my first doctor visit and made the decision to do this. I've lost weight before, but every pound returns and brings a few friends. Now it's time to do something different and permanent. So, here goes!