Zoe

OK, I know this isn't as much fun as fireman's pix for most of you, but here's William chewing one of my shoes. Luckily he didn't destroy it (he was more interested in playing tug-of-war with my socks) so I'm not short on ass-kicking weapons.

Here's my crazy Sophie (on left) with her goofy new boyfriend William. A friend rescued him from an abusive owner who chained him outside for days on end without food or water. When they weren't shamelessly begging for barbecued chicken all last weekend, the dogs ran circles around the patio and surrounding yard, playing like little pups. Soph doesn't like most other dogs, but she loved this lab/pit bull (?) mix. He is a doll. BTW, William is now safe and happy with a new dog-loving owner miles away from his sad old existence. He will be spoiled rotten for the rest of his life. Poor little guy -- Sophie was the first dog he had played with in his whole life!

Are you thinking of the hornpipe or the trouser flute?

Now that's true love! I'm sitting here laughing in my office. Thanks!

Absolutely! Glad I'm not alone in this. Maybe I will start a "whack upside the head" thread for those of us who need one. My brain hurts!

Thanks for starting this thread, Lisa. Count me as one of the bandsters who's been thinking about a fill when what I really need is a whack upside the head. I'm eating less than pre-band, but still making some bad choices. On the Fourth of July I had a real junk-food binge, my first since I got my band. I could only get down one BBQ chicken drumstick, but had no trouble with Cookies and potato chips at an all-day food fest. I got scared when I saw the old food-obsessed me coming back in her rotund glory, eating everything that wasn't nailed down. One reason I got banded was that I was sick of counting calories, fat grams, carbs, etc. But the truth is that weight loss is really a numbers game; if you take in fewer calories than you burn up, you'll lose weight. I hate that! Nearly a year after I got my band, I'm still coming to terms with the real meaning of the band as a tool. It takes care of business once the food is on its way down, but my brain is in charge of the delivery, and it needs help making good choices.

Brilliant suggestion! Count me among the number-obsessed, too. Sure, I can tell myself that the scale number or BMI doesn't matter, but that's not what I really feel. Alex, if you're going to try to "banish all thought of number-goals OUT of my head forever," maybe some of the rest of us can join you. I love your goal of having no reflux for six weeks. I'm going to try to have no PBs this week, for a start. Anyone else? (Sorry for the mini-hijack.)

I am a paleface brunette -- think Michael Jackson without the eyeliner -- and I just wear SPF 30+ sunscreen. I've got foundation by Prescriptives (color: Library Paste) and Shiseido (color: Kabuki), but I almost never wear it. . . I'm very low-maintenance that way. Lipstick and cheap black mascara and I'm good to go. But even in Chicago in January, sunscreen is a must!

You've already received enough responses to show that other bandsters have dealt with the skepticism you describe... in fact, if you read some of the old posts in the support forum, you'll find that your situation is all too common. Plenty of people think that surgery is "the easy way out" of what they see as a moral failing, namely gluttony and lack of self-discipline. And you can bet that a lot of us have beat ourselves up for that same reason. But anyone who doubts the promise of surgery isn't paying attention: 95% of diets FAIL. That means that 95% of dieters eventually consider themselves failures. Most of us bandsters were serial dieters who lost a lot of weight several times, but each time we gained back the pounds (and then some). We got sick of feeling defeated and -- I'll speak for myself here -- saw the band as an elegant solution to the problem of a bottomless pit stomach. After the surgery, we still have to deal with our relationship to food. The band doesn't fix our heads (unfortunately). But it does give us a tool for managing hunger and food intake. Keep on researching, lovecats. Read old threads with titles that interest you, including the "stickies" on the introduction, general discussion, and support forums. Whatever you decide, know that you are not alone in having to deal with friends and family who don't understand the band or for that matter what it's like to be subjugated by the food monster.

(Reluctantly raising a hand) Guilty! One of my brothers introduced me to that show when he stayed with me last winter. When he first said, "You've got to see this reality show with Flava Flav and Brigitte Nielsen," I sneered and walked off. Then from the other end of my apartment I heard him laughing his ass off and I crept back to the set. Incredible! I haven't watched "Strange Love" for months, but I was hooked for a while... who could imagine Ms. Nielsen playing kissy-face with her "Foofy-Foofy" in his giant clock necklace? I love America!

Junk TV:You know, the kind you're embarrassed to admit you watch, even if it's just by accident, but once you've turned on the set you're hooked. Well, I was channel-surfing late last night and found the TV sequel to "Jackass" on MTV (I think). It's called "Rude Boyz" and (like Jackass) features Johnny Nashville. The show is nothing more than a bunch of dumb young guys doing dopey stuff like playing Twister in a tub of alligators. Maybe it's because I was raised with a whole lot of brothers, but I couldn't stop laughing! But then, I was one of only two people over 40 in the theater when I went to see "Jackass: The Movie." The other geezer was, of course, one of my brothers.

I found this quote from Andy Rooney on the Menopause Diet site, and thought you might like it. "As I grow in age, I value older women most of all. Here are just a few reasons why: An older woman will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think. An older woman knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 50 give a damn what you might think about her. An older, single woman usually has had her fill of "meaningful relationships" and "commitment." The last thing she needs in her life is another dopey, clingy, whiny, dependent lover! Older women are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it. Most older women cook well. An older woman has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Older women couldn't care less. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to an older woman. They always know. An older woman looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, an older woman is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Her libido's stronger, her fear of pregnancy gone. Her experience of lovemaking is honed and reciprocal and she's lived long enough to know how to please a man in ways her daughter could never dream of. (Young men, you have something to look forward to.) Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off you are a jerk if you are acting like one. Yes, we praise older women for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coifed babe of 70 there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22 year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize for all of us. That men are genetically inferior is no secret. Count your blessings that we die off at a far younger age, leaving you the best part of your lives to appreciate the exquisite woman you've become, without the distraction of some demanding old man clinging and whining his way into your serenity."

I've been on a plateau for a while, hovering around the 200 mark. So I thought I'd check my BMI to see how I was doing... at 29.5, I am officially overweight, no longer obese! After being very heavy for years and years, it's a small victory I'll gladly take. I know, it's just as silly to get hung up on BMI numbers as on scale numbers, but see http://www.prevention.com/bmicalculator/0,5766,s1-2-0-0-1476-1,00.html if you want to check your stats. I recently learned that I have a giant fibroid about the size of a grapefruit. Looking at the bright side -- at least this explains why my belly is still so far from flat! And I should lose a pound or two if it's removed. Not the way I wanted to succeed in the summer weight-loss challenge, but . . . Has anyone else here had fibroid trouble? Not little ones, but big honkin' mamas? What did you do? I find out my options next week.

Only those of us who've been seriously large know exactly what you mean! Congrats on your own significant loss, A. No one has ever called me a skinny little thing before, Christina (much less called my butt "little," Paula) -- thanks! Good thing you can't see me! Yes, and here's proof that I am an idiot: I have felt a hard lump in my lower belly for a couple of months, and (even though I had a huge ovarian cyst removed nine years ago and should know better) I figured it was a normal part of my anatomy that I couldn't feel before because it was covered in a lot of fat. The doc rolled her eyes when I told her. OK, since I started this V thread, I should also mention that I have achieved one of my goals from last year: I now weigh less than my four brothers. This is partly because they're all getting heavier, but I'll take it!

What great replies! You've really inspired me, Alexandra. And Jorjet, you are far from alone. Many, even most, of us find that junk food goes down oh so easily. I could eat a pint (or more) of ice cream, no problem -- but give me a piece of chicken as Michelle suggests and I feel restriction. When I first tried tortilla chips after I was banded, I was very tentative, but then I discovered I could eat a whole bowl, plus guacamole and salsa. This soft mushy stuff slides right past the band. So, if you're ready, follow Michelle's recommendation and see if it helps. It probably will. That said, it's possible that you really don't have much restriction, even after two fills. But put your restriction to the test by trying to eat the classic bandster way with those hard Proteins first, and I bet you'll notice a difference. If not, better check with your fill doctor. Good luck! Hang in there -- we've all been discouraged at times, but as Alexandra says, the band is still there for us. BTW, if you still need "a good kick in the ass," I will post my giant boot picture!

I vegged out last night watching part of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (the S.G. in question had lost 100 lbs. and needed a new wardrobe), BlowOut, and, yes, I Want to Be a Hilton. It's truly trashy -- and irresistible!

Oh, come on DeLarla, give those fried pickles a chance! I am descended from generations of northerners who wouldn't know a decent bit of sweet potato pie if it were tossed in their faces, but when I went to Alabama a few years ago and was offered deep fried pickles I fell in love with them. Of course, I was expecting that sour crunch... I suppose your experience was more like asking for Godiva chocolate and getting Ex-Lax.

Teresa and Robin, you have both made extremely difficult decisions after trying to do everything possible to help your dogs. You're going to have a wretched day today, no doubt about it, but you are doing the best thing for your animals. Sometimes they just can't be fixed, no matter how desperately we try. My heart aches for both of you, and I hope you will find comfort in loved ones -- human and furry. I love Robin's image of your two dogs romping together in a happy canine afterlife, free from fear and anxiety. I know that all of us dog lovers will be thinking of both of you today, wishing you peace.

What really makes me nuts is the skinny celebs who get boob implants. If they want some cleavage, all they have to do is eat.

I'm having dinner with an old friend on Saturday, then heading off with the dog on Sunday to a big barbecue in Indiana where all the fur babies can run up and down the giant sand dunes and play in Lake Michigan! Dune fireworks on the 4th, unless the dogs go crazy.

Happy birthday, dude! Michiganders, beware -- Greg has reason to celebrate, and it's Speedo season.

What wonderful news! We'll have to see the movie when it finally makes it to theaters... see if we can spot the bandster on the pier!

I've seen Pimp My Ride a couple of times too. Love it! When my car's paint job starts to chip away, I'm heading for LA. BTW, my brother informs me that the show is Wild Boyz, not Rude Boyz. And I got the host's name wrong in my original post. Call me Doofus! I could be mother to any of the Wild Boyz on the show.

Sad but true; it's a "sizist" variation on the racist "they all look alike." A more inocuous comparison might be found in blondes who call any hair color darker than medium brown "black," whereas brunettes see infinite variety from chestnut to ebony. There may be other reasons for the silence. Some people -- it runs in clans, unfortunately -- just don't give compliments. Ever. Others think it will sound rude if they sound as if they're drawing your weight to your attention. You've lost a lot of weight in a short time. It must be frustrating not to have your family notice. But they will, they will. Meanwhile, you're getting healthier, so just take a deep breath at your next family event and concentrate on having a good time.

The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. -- Oscar Wilde (from The Picture of Dorian Gray)