voiceomt2002

Oh, dear. It's my kind of nightmare. If worrying about overeating and PBing at family gatherings wasn't bad enough... I just received an invitation to a (gulp) formal New Year's party. Yeah, the kind where the women put up their hair and wear fancy gowns. The kind that sends a clothes horse like me running to the closet to see if anything she has is "good enough." :redface: My one fancy gown literally fell off me when I tried it on. Yes, I really mean that. I tried to button the neck thingy, lost hold, and the whole dress dropped to pool around my ankles. Darn it, I only wore that stupid thing once. (sigh) Okay, so it was a size 26 or so. :thumbup: The host of the party knows I've lost a lot of weight, and he sent a note telling me that while the "formal" was important, he told me to do my best but don't fret. Such a sweetheart! :thumbup: Then I went to my very favorite silky pantsuit. (Wince) Same thing with the silky pantsuit, only the pants ended up around my ankles and the top, well, let's just say Santa's bag would fit better. Oh, dear. :confused: Um...Anyone know a used formalwear shop? :confused:

Oh, dear. It's my kind of nightmare. If worrying about overeating and PBing at family gatherings wasn't bad enough... I just received an invitation to a (gulp) formal New Year's party. Yeah, the kind where the women put up their hair and wear fancy gowns. The kind that sends a clothes horse like me running to the closet to see if anything she has is "good enough." My one fancy gown literally fell off me when I tried it on. Yes, I really mean that. I tried to button the neck thingy, lost hold, and the whole dress dropped to pool around my ankles. Darn it, I only wore that stupid thing once. (sigh) Okay, so it was a size 26 or so. :eek: The host of the party knows I've lost a lot of weight, and he sent a note telling me that while the "formal" was important, he told me to do my best but don't fret. Such a sweetheart! :wub: Then I went to my very favorite silky pantsuit. (Wince) Same thing with the silky pantsuit, only the pants ended up around my ankles and the top, well, let's just say Santa's bag would fit better. Oh, dear. :confused: Um...Anyone know a used formalwear shop?

Okay, BG. You nailed me. That's what I dress like. Thanks Mechelle and kdee. Like TinyaK, I've been holding off shopping, except for some very necessary lingerie. When your bra bunches up and isn't holding up "the girls" anymore and your panties fall off your butt, it's time for new stuff. I was hoping to hold off until I got to Onederland, but looks like I'll be shopping and sewing soon. My daughter insists it's okay to go to the stores to shop for clothes, but I've been looking and I've not seen much that appeals to my tastes for bright cheerful colors. Guess I'll be pulling out some of those "one day when" patterns, huh? LOL!

“Lena, stop dressing like a fat woman!” Those were the words of my co-workers and fellow teachers at JoAnn’s Fabrics this past weekend. My only pair of new size 18 jeans were dirty, so I’d thrown on my old size 24 black jeans, a nice shirt, and my favorite black butterfly brocade jacket. I thought I looked pretty snazzy, even if my jeans were held up by my belt. Apparently, I was wrong. The two sewing instructors insisted on giving me a detailed analysis of how I need to cut down my clothes and re-tailor them to fit. Moreover, my lovely butterfly jacket is “only something fat women wear to hide their rolls of flesh.” (Oh, dear. Ummm...I love that jacket.) Guess this means I’d better pull out some of my patterns and make myself some new clothes or my co-workers may just rip my clothes off my body next meeting! EEEK! Still, what they said bugs me. Do I dress like a fat woman? What does a fat woman dress like?

I've not lost any friends, but some are treating me differently now. Some friendships have grown closer, some moved apart. The good friends are still good friends. One man who told me before surgery that I was not sexy now is very flirtatious. If he didn't find me a good companion before, and now he does, I can pretty much guess he's in lust not love. Good thing I'm happily married and was never interested anyway. Biggest problem I'm having is getting my DH to remember I'm no longer in poor health and barely able to move. I *want* to mow the lawn and garden, doggone it! Gimme back my rake! LOL!

Just curious as to how all of you have been doing since ur surgery in January? Are you happy about your band? Happy is too mild a term. I'm ecstatic. How do you love bandster life? I love my life now. I'm walking everywhere, getting more done, and the changes in my life are monumental. How close are you to your goal? I'm about halfway there. I've lost around 70 lbs, with about another 70 to go, if I want to listen to the doc. Heck, I could stay right here at a size 18 and be happy, but getting below 200# has become a goal in itself. Do you exercise everyday? Not every day, but three times a week I do a mile walk. The rest is "everyday exercise" like mowing the lawn, parking in the back of the shopping mall lot and walking in, or dancing the night away on a date night with the DH. :smile2: Do you PB alot? Sometimes yes, especially when I don't pay attention to how I eat. What I eat is easy. It's eating too fast that causes me difficulty more often than not. Once in awhile I come back here to blog or answer some of the blogs I subscribe to. I'll say that I'm happy where I am, and anything else that I lose is just the cherry on top. I'm happy just as I am now.

“Lena, stop dressing like a fat woman!” Those were the words of my co-workers and fellow teachers at JoAnn’s Fabrics this past weekend. My only pair of new size 18 jeans were dirty, so I’d thrown on my old size 24 black jeans, a nice shirt, and my favorite black butterfly brocade jacket. I thought I looked pretty snazzy, even if my jeans were held up by my belt. Apparently, I was wrong. The two sewing instructors insisted on giving me a detailed analysis of how I need to cut down my clothes and re-tailor them to fit. Moreover, my lovely butterfly jacket is “only something fat women wear to hide their rolls of flesh.” (Oh, dear. Ummm...I love that jacket.) Guess this means I’d better pull out some of my patterns and make myself some new clothes or my co-workers may just rip my clothes off my body next meeting! EEEK! Still, what they said bugs me. Do I dress like a fat woman? What does a fat woman dress like?

I haven't had too much luck with the cream. It seems to be a temporary measure at best. Doc has already told me I *will* have another surgery or two. One to repair some surgical hernias left from previous operations and hidden by my fat until now, and at least one to remove my excess skin on my arms and belly. He's hoping to combine the belly skin surgery with the hernia operation, but the arms may have to be done separately, owing to my work.

My doc also says there may be periods of time where your weight loss stalls while your body adjusts, and be patient. My WL stalled for about six months, staying right at the same weight, then dropped considerably. Now it's stalled again, but I've noticed the NSV's are increasing. I stopped worrying about what the scale said and went on living. So what if I only lose 5 lbs a month? I'm still losing and my skin has a chance to snap back without my looking like a kid in Mommy's skin. LOL!

I got lucky. We gave it all away, right down to the last "fun size" bag of malted milk balls. Muahahaha!! I'm safe! Whoohoo!! ::Wiping sweat off my brow::

Thanks, y'all! I had lots of fun and I will go back eventually.

On Saturday, Dante, my DD Susan, and I went to the Jacksonville Zoo. Not that big of a deal, right? It was for me. One year ago, I couldn't have hauled my badly overweight carcass around a grocery store, much less acres of walking trails. I would have been humiliated and restricted to one of those expensive rented electric carts, unable to ride the train or get "up close and personal" with the exhibits. I'd have been in my black stretchy knits, hoping no one noticed how sweaty I was. My swollen feet would have been crammed into my black Crocs, just so my feet could breathe and cool me. A few years ago, I would have jonesed for a cigarette and been unable to satisfy my craving because the electric carts would have been difficult to get to the few places where smokers could be. This year was radically different than all years past where I sat in my wheelchair while Dante and Susan had fun. This year I was in size 18 jeans and a pink tee shirt, bouncing all over the zoo in my white tennis shoes, with my energy level equal to a power plant. I was the one hauling Susan and Dante hither and yon, running to take a picture here, ooohing and ahhing at the lovely creatures, while they struggled to keep up. This year, Dante leaned on his cane, sweated, and begged for a chance to sit down. I graciously found places for him to sit and rest while Susan and I bounced around like both of us were 24 years old instead of just Susan. We got him cool drinks and held his place in line while he limped off to rest or smoke. The zoo is smoke free, so he took only one smoke break out on a dock on the Trout River. Susan and I yanked the camera out of each others' hands to take pictures whenever we saw a great shot, depending on who had the best angle. We finally had to leave because DH would get off work soon, so we missed the Australian/African portion, but we did stop long enough for a quick visit to Stingray Bay to pet a stingray. :crying: You can see my pictures in this album: http://s516.photobucket.com/albums/u323/voiceomt2002/Home%20and%20Family/ I'm proud that I was the one who walked and didn't get tired, didn't blow my diet, and enjoyed myself. Next time, I think I'll take DH for a romantic stroll. He can keep up with me. (Big Grin)

On Saturday, Dante, my DD Susan, and I went to the Jacksonville Zoo. Not that big of a deal, right? It was for me. One year ago, I couldn't have hauled my badly overweight carcass around a grocery store, much less acres of walking trails. I would have been humiliated and restricted to one of those expensive rented electric carts, unable to ride the train or get "up close and personal" with the exhibits. I'd have been in my black stretchy knits, hoping no one noticed how sweaty I was. My swollen feet would have been crammed into my black Crocs, just so my feet could breathe and cool me. A few years ago, I would have jonesed for a cigarette and been unable to satisfy my craving because the electric carts would have been difficult to get to the few places where smokers could be. This year was radically different than all years past where I sat in my wheelchair while Dante and Susan had fun. This year I was in size 18 jeans and a pink tee shirt, bouncing all over the zoo in my white tennis shoes, with my energy level equal to a power plant. I was the one hauling Susan and Dante hither and yon, running to take a picture here, ooohing and ahhing at the lovely creatures, while they struggled to keep up. This year, Dante leaned on his cane, sweated, and begged for a chance to sit down. I graciously found places for him to sit and rest while Susan and I bounced around like both of us were 24 years old instead of just Susan. We got him cool drinks and held his place in line while he limped off to rest or smoke. The zoo is smoke free, so he took only one smoke break out on a dock on the Trout River. Susan and I yanked the camera out of each others' hands to take pictures whenever we saw a great shot, depending on who had the best angle. We finally had to leave because DH would get off work soon, so we missed the Australian/African portion, but we did stop long enough for a quick visit to Stingray Bay to pet a stingray. You can see my pictures in this album: http://s516.photobucket.com/albums/u323/voiceomt2002/Home%20and%20Family/ I'm proud that I was the one who walked and didn't get tired, didn't blow my diet, and enjoyed myself. Next time, I think I'll take DH for a romantic stroll. He can keep up with me. (Big Grin)

Heck, I'd be happy to be under 200 lbs, and ecstatic to be under 175. Anything after that is dream territory.

I've just returned from my monthly visit with Dr. Baptista, whom I still adore. However, I finally realized I don't care what my weight is anymore. I'm losing weight, though it comes off in about 5 lb increments. I'm wearing size 18, down from size 26, jeans. I'm wearing a 38B bra. I mowed our 3/4 acre lawn a couple weeks ago. I've not gone to the beach yet, but that's in my future when warm weather returns. The biggest change is in my head. I'm no longer obsessed with food, or my diet, other than watching what I eat so I don't throw up and waste food. It's just fuel so I can get back to the business of living. I never thought I'd say that. This year, I don't care if there's candy in the stores. The thought of eating the whole bag like I did on a previous Halloween isn't there. I don't want it. It's the non-food stuff I care about now. Gee, the grandchildren are going to need new warm pajamas. I'd better go make them some. Let's carve the polyurethane foam pumpkins and string some spooky orange lights! Gee, my DH is so tired on weekends. I'd better go mow the yard and mulch that flowerbed. We're going dancing on Thursday night? Super! Where are my shoes? Food? Uh, no thanks. Not hungry. No really, no thanks. Want to go for a Ghost Walk?

I've just returned from my monthly visit with Dr. Baptista, whom I still adore. However, I finally realized I don't care what my weight is anymore. I'm losing weight, though it comes off in about 5 lb increments. I'm wearing size 18, down from size 26, jeans. I'm wearing a 38B bra. I mowed our 3/4 acre lawn a couple weeks ago. I've not gone to the beach yet, but that's in my future when warm weather returns. The biggest change is in my head. I'm no longer obsessed with food, or my diet, other than watching what I eat so I don't throw up and waste food. It's just fuel so I can get back to the business of living. I never thought I'd say that. This year, I don't care if there's candy in the stores. The thought of eating the whole bag like I did on a previous Halloween isn't there. I don't want it. It's the non-food stuff I care about now. Gee, the grandchildren are going to need new warm pajamas. I'd better go make them some. Let's carve the polyurethane foam pumpkins and string some spooky orange lights! Gee, my DH is so tired on weekends. I'd better go mow the yard and mulch that flowerbed. We're going dancing on Thursday night? Super! Where are my shoes? Food? Uh, no thanks. Not hungry. No really, no thanks. Want to go for a Ghost Walk?

I'm ten months out and my hair is coming back at last. Funny thing, though. I thought I lost the boobs, but a smaller bra (band) feels much better. The cup size didn't change all that much. Wow!

Oh, thank goodness! It's not just me that's suddenly finding out about purging the "automatic black" from the wardrobe and shopping! (Happy Dance) Hey, BG! We wear the same bra size! I'm a 38B, and I gave up the regular bras for the sports bras out of sheer desperation. I'm still fat in my head, too. I'm only 15 lbs away from my thinnest since before I had kids close to thirty years ago, but I still feel like a Leviathan. I still skulk around the Misses section of the women's clothing like I don't belong there, and have to tell myself I'm shopping for my daughter (who is the same size I am now) before I stop shaking. I keep expecting some skinny little salesgirl half my age to point toward the women's section and say loudly and contemptuously, "They have things that will fit you, Ma'am!" (Don't you feel like the salespeople all use "Ma'am" when they'd much rather say, "B*tch" or is it just me?)

Did you go shopping with me yesterday and look over my shoulders or what? You're scary, woman. Yesterday morning, my daughter walked in on me before I'd finished dressing for the day. She sighed. "Okay, Mom! That's enough. Look at you! Your granny panties are falling off your butt, and that size gi-normous Lane Bryant sports bra isn't even holding itself up, much less you. We're going shopping. No arguments! Get in the car!" I was bullied and hustled into the (gulp) Misses sizes and had clothes thrown at me by a 24 year old on a mission for an hour. I now wear a size 18 (Down from 26!!!) but the bra size is a little "iffy" to find. Who knew there was no such thing as a 38B in Wal-Mart??? I used to think this was going to be fun.

I noticed we're all starting to have NSV's (Non-scale victories) so I thought we might like to share with our January Hottie friends. We're all fitting into smaller clothes, no longer fighting to fasten our seat belts when driving, and crossing our legs in comfort. Mine's a strange little one -- I can wear certain shoes of mine again. When I was at my heaviest, my feet would swell and I couldn't wear my prettier or dressier shoes. Even my sneakers were no longer possible. I was stuck wearing Crocs clogs or flip-flops so I could just slide something on and didn't have to grunt and bend over to tie a shoelace. Now all my Crocs are too big, even at the end of the day. I tie on my sneakers by myself, hop off the chair, and I'm out the door without a thought. What are your NSV's?

I was sitting in my tiny little office in our home in Denver. My DH was struggling to get enough work for us to pay the bills, and I was typing frantically at my keyboard, one year away from making my first sale. One of my writing friends sent out a mass email: OMG! Turn on the TV! That's how learned about it. My BIL was a cop in Washington DC, and another BIL is an EMT Nurse near DC. There's nothing worse than wondering if it's your family out there being a hero, unless it's finding out they were the heroes and victims of that day. There are flags out on my lawn today to honor the heroes and the victims of 9/11. Bin Laden gave us a black eye and hurt us, but he didn't destroy us.

About those hour-long waits-- my doc has a constant hour-long wait, sometimes more. Usually, the waiting room is packed solid, and it's a new fresh hell every time. You can tell who's been with doc at least six months, because they appear resigned to the wait and pull out needlework, books, and laptops. The rest fidget and get pissed off. There's no sense in doing so. There's just that many morbidly obese folks who need help.

This morning, DH drove off to his new job. It's been a long, horrible six months of unemployment. We haven't lost the house yet, and if the promises are even close to accurate, we won't. Ironically, we don't want to celebrate. While not trying to sound pessimistic, this is still technically a temporary job. DH must prove himself. I know he can do the job, and he knows what's at stake. Meanwhile, I have a novel to finish and a guild meeting to attend. Now to find some clothes that don't fall off my body! LOL!

Calm down, BG. You'll hurt yourself. LOL! You got that right, Lucky. Any job is a good job right now. I've piles of projects to complete that have been on hold for months, but at least we have more than hope. Lena