dramagirl28

I have always been great at losing weight. I have always been even better at gaining it. I think I was born chubby, and just stayed that way. I grew up as the fat kid and went on my first diet when I was 10. When I was 20 I decided to try Weight Watchers, and successfully lost about 40 lbs, only to turn around and put it right back on. A few years later, at my highest weight of 260 lbs, I joined Weight Watchers again, this time with a friend. That time around I lost 70 lbs..... and then put it back on. I did NutriSystem, I did Atkins, I did South Beach, until I started eating pasta and cheesecake again. I got tired of struggling and decided that I needed help. Enter VSG.

I asked my doctor to refer me to the WLS program in November of 2010. I went to an orientation December where my pre-op weight was recorded at 258 lbs, almost as high as my highest weight. I began my 12-week nutrition classes (Options, for Kaiser) in January and finished them at the end of March. I got all my pre-op appointments taken care of ASAP and finally got a surgery date for August of 2011.

I was 241.8 lbs on the day of my surgery. I was also scared to death. I cried like a little baby in the holding room while they were putting in my IV. But I knew I was making the right choice, and I wanted more than anything to end my lifelong struggle with my weight.

As soon as I came-to I threw up foamy blood. I asked the nurse, "Is that supposed to happen?" She said yes, and I just accepted it. I was in pain for a couple minutes but then they got the juice a-flowin' and I didn't care anymore. I was put into my hospital bed and given a morphine button (which I pressed immediately, and once every 8 minutes thereafter while I was awake). I drifted in and out of sleep. At one point I fell asleep mid-conversation, and when I woke up, I tried to finish my thought. I also insisted on having my mom dig through my purse to find my ipod because I had a burning desire to listen to Louis Prima. You do weird things on drugs, man.

The first night in the hospital was pretty awful. I was hooked up to so many wires and machines, and because of my IV I had to pee every 2 hours, so the nurse would have to come unhook me from everything. I'd walk a lap around the hospital everytime, too. I got really tired of laying on my back, and the gas pain was pretty sharp, so I sat up in a chair for a while, and then the nurse brought me about a zillion pillows so that I could kinda sorta lay on my side with my belly supported. The dry mouth was hell, too. I had a sponge to swab my tongue with, but eventually I wised up and gargled the water and spit it out. So much more efficient.

The second day was a breeze, in comparison. A shower has never felt so good. They unhooked me from about half of the machines and switched me to liquid vicodin, which worked better, in my opinion. Although I watched that clock and buzzed for the nurse every 4 hours on the dot to get my next dose. They brought me an assortment of juices and jellos and water. The juice was amazing. The jello was disgusting. I could not drink nearly as much as they wanted me to, but I did the best I could. The second night I slept better. I kind of wished they had let me go home, but I really wasn't ready yet. The following morning I got another shower and they were pretty much ready to kick me out. But first, they wanted me to drink this gigantic cup (ok it was probably only 2oz) of potassium crap. I took the biggest sip I thought I could handle, and immediately regretted it. It was salty and gross and sent a wave of nausea through me. I have never concentrated so hard on not throwing up before in my life. My mom, who is a nurse, took pity on me and dumped the rest of it down the drain for me. And you know what? I survived.

We had a little over an hour to drive home. I wore a close-fitting tank top and pajama pants, and hugged a pillow the whole way. My dad ran to the pharmacy to fill my prescription and it was so busy that by the time he got back my dose was an hour late and I was a grumpy girl. But he brought flowers, too, so I couldn't be mad. My mom made homemade chicken broth for me to sip on, and boy was that heaven on earth. I was amazed at how little I could eat/drink, and how I really wasn't interested in eating. I didn't nap much at home. I stayed up and visited, took it easy, watched movies, etc. I'd start to get sore when it was time for another dose of the pain killers but it was never too bad. I could even sort of sleep on my side right away, as long as there was a pillow wedged under my belly.

I lost about a pound a day for the first two weeks. Then it went to a pound every other day or so. As soon as it started getting frustrating to step on the scale and not see a loss, I stopped weighing daily and started weighing once a week, and recording my weight weekly. Even though it sometimes felt like the scale wasn't moving, I never had a stall. I am about 8.5 months out as I write this, and I have had one week with no change, and one week with a 0.4 gain, with an average weight loss of 2.36 lbs per week. I am just over 5 lbs from my goal (and I never, ever thought I'd be able to say that!). I went from wearing a size 20 to a size 10. I do not weigh or measure my food. I make good choices a lot of the time, but I do enjoy cocktails, birthday cake, and other indulgences when I want them. I don't count carbs, but I simply can't eat bread, rice, or pasta because it takes up too much room in my belly. I no longer do burgers and fries. It's just impractical. I finally feel normal. I eat regular food without having to do fat-free everything and I enjoy every bite. I have moments when I try on clothes and think, "wow, is that really what I look like?" My body is a little wiggly, but I don't care! Every time I start to feel self-conscious, I touch my collar bones and smile. I look the way I feel. A little imperfect, perhaps, but very, very happy.