wendytip

The other day my husband tried to kill me. To his credit, he was very clever in his attempt. He hatched his evil plan innocently enough by encouraging me to work out with him at a “spin class.” He approached me earlier in the week and asked me if I would like to go to spin class with him. I expressed my concerns. “I’m afraid I’m not in shape for this.” “What if I become so exhausted that I fall off the bike and humiliate myself?” “I don’t look good in bike shorts.” “The only biking I’ve ever done is when my car has been in the shop and it’s imperative that I get to my destination…my destination being Dairy Queen, or someplace like that.” “You know I hate sweating…in particular the dreaded thigh sweating that will inevitably occur during this class.” None of these excuses worked…and besides, my husband is super HOT, so he was able to convince me to give it a try. Oh, you should have seen him making sure that I was ready for class; getting me a towel, adjusting my bike seat, making sure that my bike’s handle bars were placed just so, checking the resistance on the bike. Little did I know that he was he was getting me ready, alright…getting me ready to DIE! The music started. The too- peppy- for- her own good- impossibly well conditioned- instructor arrived, and we got on our bikes. I was great…for about 30 seconds; then it hit me. My undoing wasn’t to be any of my aforementioned concerns, no, my undoing was going to be the tiny, yet rock hard bike seat that was cutting into my ass. I looked at my husband. He smiled at me sweetly. I chose to ignore the searing pain in my butt. Alas, the more we peddled, the happier everyone looked and the more intense the pain became. I looked around. No one else seemed to be having the same problem as myself. Looking across the room, I spied a women whose ass was almost ass big as mine. She sort of reminded me of me, but with one major exception; she was peddling happily. I wondered: was she faking it? Did she have an “I love exercise” Mission Impossible mask on? You know, the ones that look just like your actual face, but they’re really only a ruse, meant to fool people? What I really wanted to know was how all of these people could NOT be in the same pain as me. What really boggled my brain was how all of the skinny people could not be in pain. I mean, let’s face it; if you’ve got a big, well padded behind that should work to your advantage, but I was dying, and how all those riders with NO padding could take it, was beyond me. I turned to my husband and said, “I can’t take this. My ass is killing me. My husband then told me something that I can only assume was meant to relieve me. “Well, you won’t be sitting the whole time.” And friends, even though I hated life at that very moment, don’t think that I didn’t find the hysterical absurdity in his statement. I began to laugh wildly. After I finally caught my breath, I said, “You don’t really think I’m going to be able to actually stand up on this bike and peddle do you?” However, as my ass began to go numb I decided to try and stand and peddle in order to alleviate the pain. It was sort of like trying to hoist a 200 pound bag of wet sand. I sat back down and peddled some more. Surely I could make it through this. After 5 more excruciating minutes I turned back to my husband, who was now looking not as much hot as diabolical.” I can’t do this.” I said again. “Is your resistance all the way down he asked?” “It’s not my resistance,” I all but screamed, “It’s my ass! My ass is numb! Numb! Do you hear me?” He looked at me calmly, “Hang in there. You’ll get used to it.” I would’ve stopped peddling the bike right then and gotten of f, but at that point the entire lower half of my body had lost feeling. I mentally willed my legs to stop turning the peddles. As I hobbled off the bike, and staggered out of the room I turned to my killer/husband. “Oh, I’ll never get used to it…NEVER.”

The other day my husband tried to kill me. To his credit, he was very clever in his attempt. He hatched his evil plan innocently enough by encouraging me to work out with him at a “spin class.” He approached me earlier in the week and asked me if I would like to go to spin class with him. I expressed my concerns. “I’m afraid I’m not in shape for this.” “What if I become so exhausted that I fall off the bike and humiliate myself?” “I don’t look good in bike shorts.” “The only biking I’ve ever done is when my car has been in the shop and it’s imperative that I get to my destination…my destination being Dairy Queen, or someplace like that.” “You know I hate sweating…in particular the dreaded thigh sweating that will inevitably occur during this class.” None of these excuses worked…and besides, my husband is super HOT, so he was able to convince me to give it a try. Oh, you should have seen him making sure that I was ready for class; getting me a towel, adjusting my bike seat, making sure that my bike’s handle bars were placed just so, checking the resistance on the bike. Little did I know that he was he was getting me ready, alright…getting me ready to DIE! The music started. The too- peppy- for- her own good- impossibly well conditioned- instructor arrived, and we got on our bikes. I was great…for about 30 seconds; then it hit me. My undoing wasn’t to be any of my aforementioned concerns, no, my undoing was going to be the tiny, yet rock hard bike seat that was cutting into my ass. I looked at my husband. He smiled at me sweetly. I chose to ignore the searing pain in my butt. Alas, the more we peddled, the happier everyone looked and the more intense the pain became. I looked around. No one else seemed to be having the same problem as myself. Looking across the room, I spied a women whose ass was almost ass big as mine. She sort of reminded me of me, but with one major exception; she was peddling happily. I wondered: was she faking it? Did she have an “I love exercise” Mission Impossible mask on? You know, the ones that look just like your actual face, but they’re really only a ruse, meant to fool people? What I really wanted to know was how all of these people could NOT be in the same pain as me. What really boggled my brain was how all of the skinny people could not be in pain. I mean, let’s face it; if you’ve got a big, well padded behind that should work to your advantage, but I was dying, and how all those riders with NO padding could take it, was beyond me. I turned to my husband and said, “I can’t take this. My ass is killing me. My husband then told me something that I can only assume was meant to relieve me. “Well, you won’t be sitting the whole time.” And friends, even though I hated life at that very moment, don’t think that I didn’t find the hysterical absurdity in his statement. I began to laugh wildly. After I finally caught my breath, I said, “You don’t really think I’m going to be able to actually stand up on this bike and peddle do you?” However, as my ass began to go numb I decided to try and stand and peddle in order to alleviate the pain. It was sort of like trying to hoist a 200 pound bag of wet sand. I sat back down and peddled some more. Surely I could make it through this. After 5 more excruciating minutes I turned back to my husband, who was now looking not as much hot as diabolical.” I can’t do this.” I said again. “Is your resistance all the way down he asked?” “It’s not my resistance,” I all but screamed, “It’s my ass! My ass is numb! Numb! Do you hear me?” He looked at me calmly, “Hang in there. You’ll get used to it.” I would’ve stopped peddling the bike right then and gotten of f, but at that point the entire lower half of my body had lost feeling. I mentally willed my legs to stop turning the peddles. As I hobbled off the bike, and staggered out of the room I turned to my killer/husband. “Oh, I’ll never get used to it…NEVER.”

I hate working out. I do. I am not one of those, “endorphin rush water bottle carrying gym bag toting heart monitoring yeah, I feel so great after a few hours of sweating” people. Truth be told; if I didn’t have to work out- I wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t miss it one damn bit. But, I do have to work out. I’m making it part of my lifestyle, now. I hate it, but I don’t have a choice, so I do it. So, I go to the gym the other day for a step class. I know that I may not be able to get through it, but hey, I gotta start somewhere. I’m waiting outside the step class and I’m surrounded by all these flippy- tailed little college girls. God, I hate them! I’m just being honest. No, I don’t know them, and yes, I know I’m being irrational. I’m sure they’re very nice girls, but that doesn’t matter; I hate them anyway. They get on my nerves. And they get on my nerves because they have flat non existent stomachs. They have little bitty behinds…my behind has never been that small…not even when I was a baby! Worst of all, they are so joyously happy about getting to that step class! I wish I could beat the hell out of them with their monogrammed gym bags. I go into the class and get my step…none of those little platform, riser thingys that elevate the step. I’m sure the step alone, with its three inches in height will be more than enough for me. I move to the back row; where all fat people work out. I think that if I position myself just right behind a few of those skinny girls that I may not be able to see myself in the mirror. I HATE those mirrors. A friend of mine told me once that the mirrors are there so that I can check my “form.” Hell, I don’t need to check my form. I just need to remain upright. I you hear my fat ass hit the floor then you’ll know that my “form” is in trouble. I do find, however, that if I stand right where the mirrors come together that I look half my size…maybe these mirrors aren’t so bad after all. We begin to work out, and I’m good…for a few minutes. I find that if I do most of the step routines without the step itself, then I can keep myself from passing out…which doesn’t really make it a “step” class does it? It sort of just makes it an…aerobic…floor exercises class. Just when I’m feeling okay, I look over and there is someone with 3 of those little platform things under their step; 3! That step was up to her knees! About that time, the instructor says, “For those of you who want to take it up a notch, you can give a little jump on your step.” Then that masochistic woman with the 3 platform thingys does just that; she “jumps” up on her step! I decided to finish out the step class with my eyes closed. It was awkward, and I had a hard time keeping my balance, but it was worth it!

I hate working out. I do. I am not one of those, “endorphin rush water bottle carrying gym bag toting heart monitoring yeah, I feel so great after a few hours of sweating” people. Truth be told; if I didn’t have to work out- I wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t miss it one damn bit. But, I do have to work out. I’m making it part of my lifestyle, now. I hate it, but I don’t have a choice, so I do it. So, I go to the gym the other day for a step class. I know that I may not be able to get through it, but hey, I gotta start somewhere. I’m waiting outside the step class and I’m surrounded by all these flippy- tailed little college girls. God, I hate them! I’m just being honest. No, I don’t know them, and yes, I know I’m being irrational. I’m sure they’re very nice girls, but that doesn’t matter; I hate them anyway. They get on my nerves. And they get on my nerves because they have flat non existent stomachs. They have little bitty behinds…my behind has never been that small…not even when I was a baby! Worst of all, they are so joyously happy about getting to that step class! I wish I could beat the hell out of them with their monogrammed gym bags. I go into the class and get my step…none of those little platform, riser thingys that elevate the step. I’m sure the step alone, with its three inches in height will be more than enough for me. I move to the back row; where all fat people work out. I think that if I position myself just right behind a few of those skinny girls that I may not be able to see myself in the mirror. I HATE those mirrors. A friend of mine told me once that the mirrors are there so that I can check my “form.” Hell, I don’t need to check my form. I just need to remain upright. I you hear my fat ass hit the floor then you’ll know that my “form” is in trouble. I do find, however, that if I stand right where the mirrors come together that I look half my size…maybe these mirrors aren’t so bad after all. We begin to work out, and I’m good…for a few minutes. I find that if I do most of the step routines without the step itself, then I can keep myself from passing out…which doesn’t really make it a “step” class does it? It sort of just makes it an…aerobic…floor exercises class. Just when I’m feeling okay, I look over and there is someone with 3 of those little platform things under their step; 3! That step was up to her knees! About that time, the instructor says, “For those of you who want to take it up a notch, you can give a little jump on your step.” Then that masochistic woman with the 3 platform thingys does just that; she “jumps” up on her step! I decided to finish out the step class with my eyes closed. It was awkward, and I had a hard time keeping my balance, but it was worth it!

Do you realize what a rapid weight loss 30 lbs. in just over 7 weeks is? I'm going for my second weigh in and fill next Tuesday, and I'm shooting for 25 lbs. all total. If I hit 30 lbs. My feet will not be touching the ground! An average of over 4 lbs. a week is plenty. You don't want the weight to come off too fast.

Okkkkkay, I really don’t think I have anything to worry about since I have over 100 lbs. to lose. I’ve got a while before I need to start wondering if I look too thin. I have heard b before that as you get older, either your butt is big, but your face is great, or you have a nice rear end and your face looks like hell. And you know what? Society and all those beauty experts can kiss my fat ass! All I’ve had shoved down my throat for years is what a non person I am because I’m fat. From shopping for clothes in the “fat girls section,” that look like damn shower curtains, or drapes, to seeing anorexic chicks with their shoulder blades poking out held up to me and every other female as the supposed standard of beauty, and now they want to hand us this garbage? It’s kind of like God has played some ridiculous joke on me anyway; I have tiny hands, narrow, little feet, a small face, and then everything else is big! It’s like the body parts got mixed up somehow. Now, I have had my husband and friends express concern over what’s going to happen to my cleavage. I have a great rack…I guess. Women always say, “I wish I had big boobs like that.” I tell them, “Well, if you can 130 pounds I bet you will…of course you’ll have to take the big, fat ass that comes with it. Personally, I can’t wait until “the girls” are gone! They’re big and in the way, and the only reason I have them is because I’m fat, so when they’re gone I’m giving them a bon voyage party! Now, because my wonderful husband is the only man EVER who has never made an issue of my weight, and who treats me like I’m the sexiest woman on the planet even at my fattest, loves them…I will most likely have him some made. But, only because he does love them so much…and at least they won’t be sagging! No way! Those girls will be pointing towards the heavens! Other than that; I’ll take my additional “years” if that’s what it comes down to. I think with plenty of water and exercise it won’t be an issue. Besides, I’ll take a few wrinkles over a “Joan Rivers” face any day.

Or,you could tell them that you have a tapeworm. You look furitivley over both of your shoulders, lean in close and mysteriosly, and say, "I'm not eating this food...not after what happened to the others." You could say that you're fasting for "Rhamadan." Or you could make your food make little screaming noises everytime you go to take a bite, and I bet they wouldn't even remember what you had for lunch, much less, how much you did or didn't eat. You could make ecstatic, moaning noises of intense satisfaction every time you chewed, thereby embarassing them so badly that they'd be grateful you weren't eating very much. You could say, "Well SOME of us don't make as much as YOU obiviously do, so SOME of us have to ask eht waiter for a "to go" container, so that we can take our food home, ration it out, and pray to GOD that it lasts until the next paycheck." Or, you could tell them that you're in training to be a Navy Seal, and you have to watch what you eat. You could slam your silverware and napkin down on the table, push your chair out from the table forcefully, and as you run away to the restroom, shout back over your shoulder, "GOD! Why do you always have to ruin things for me?" You could say, "Oh, I'm not eating becuase I had lap band surgery, and I've lost a lot of weight. perhaps if you weren't so self absorbed you would have noticed by now. Yep, I can't wait to loose the rest of my weight, so that I can start dressing like a tramp!" Oh, and that reminds me; can I borrow some of your clothes once I get skinny?" Or you could use my personal favorite, "Why don't you mind your own damn business!"

Or, tell them that you have a tapeworm...or you could glance in paranoia over your shoulder, then look under the table, and mysteriously say, "I'm not eating this food...I don't want to end up like all the others." You could make loud, succulant, moaning noises,every time you chewed, thereby, drawing embarrassing attention to your table;that way, they'd be grateful. that you didn't eat very much. You could say snidley, "Well, not all of us make as much money as YOU obiviously do, so SOME of us have toask the waiter for a "to go" container, so that we can ration our food out, hoping and praying that it will last until the next payday. You could make you food make little screaming noises as you ate it, and they'd be so put off by your crazy behavior that they probably wouldn't even remember what you had to eat, much less how much you ate.You could tell them that you're fasting for Rhamadan. You say what I say, which is, "Oh, I guess I didn't tell you that I had lap band surgery. Maybe if you weren't so self absorbed you would have noticed that I've lost a lot of weght, and I can't wait until I'm thin, so that I can start dressing like a tramp!...which reminds me, may I borrow some of your stuff when I get skinny?" You could slam your napkin down on the table loudly, shove your chair out from the table, and as you make you way to the restroom in mock tears, scream, "God! Why do you always have to ruin things for me?" And of course, there's always the old standby; Why don't you mind your own damn business?"

Insurance requirements are INSANE! You should put weights in your pockets. I swear, that's what I'd do. I take those little hand weights apart and sew that shit into my clothes if I had to! Of course, I'm just crazy that way!

I wear a size 18! At last! Finally! I can fit into, without laying down on the bed to get the zipper up, or having to suck in to an unnatural degree... A SIZE 18! Happy days are here right damn now because I no longer wear anthing in the 20's. Oh yes, I may still shop in the fat girl section, but not for very much longer, because I wear a size 18! I think I will go and tell a total stranger on the street tomorrow that I wear a size 18. I don't even care if they look at me like I've lost my mind...I'm sort of used to that anyway. I don't care if they look at me like, "A size 18? Why, that's a fat size." I don't care because it's not a fat size to me. To me, it's a wonderful, beautiful, delightfully slenderishly, too hot to be believed size. All hail the size 18 GODDESS THAT I AM!

I wear a size 18! At last! Finally! I can fit into, without laying down on the bed to get the zipper up, or having to suck in to an unnatural degree... A SIZE 18! Happy days are here right damn now because I no longer wear anthing in the 20's. Oh yes, I may still shop in the fat girl section, but not for very much longer, because I wear a size 18! I think I will go and tell a total stranger on the street tomorrow that I wear a size 18. I don't even care if they look at me like I've lost my mind...I'm sort of used to that anyway. I don't care if they look at me like, "A size 18? Why, that's a fat size." I don't care because it's not a fat size to me. To me, it's a wonderful, beautiful, delightfully slenderishly, too hot to be believed size. All hail the size 18 GODDESS THAT I AM!

Food Porn! Hah! I LOVE it! I'm a Southern girl and honey, we deep fry everything. We'd fry lard if we could just find a way! I don't discrminate though, I love all kinds of food! None of your food porn gives me any real pause except for that hot dog thingy with the sausage. OMG, I'd kill somebody for a loaded up chili dog. It's my FAV! I can only imagine what that sausage thingy must be like! Heaven, I'm sure. I'll tell you what looks good, though...that big, dark, tree trunk thighed,long haired, curly locks guy that plays for the Steelers! He does play for the Steelers, doesn't he? I don't do the sports thing...except for boxing! Stay strong, girl!

Congrats to you! Take some Gas X strips and walk, walk, walk, and then walk some more. I felt the same way. The incisions were no big deal, but the gas pain was horrible! Oh, and you may want to try a heating pad on your shoulder too. I've heard that helps.

Oh, you're so much nicer than I am. Once upon a time when I'd lost a bunch of weight and then put it all back on, a co-worker said, "What in the world made you gain all that weight back?" I replied, "Oh, I don't know. I guess I got tired of being drop dead gorgous." I really do belive that most of the time people don't mean anything by what they say, but sometimes...sometimes, you can't convince me that they don't know exactly what they're saying, and I'd tell anyone who saying, "Your going to gain that weight back," to mind their own damn business. Sometimes it feels, oh so good, to let 'em have it!

Get him to use some Lidocaine first to numb you, but it's not painful hardly at all. I just can't look. You'll be fine. You're strong. You didn't come this far to back down now, remember that!

I went for my first fill today, and bounded onto the scales. I was ready! I took my shoes off and Tiffany (my favorite nurse, EVER,) said, "Socks too." I was like, "Honey, if I could get by with it, I'd be on the scales, BUCK NAKED! So, I was hoping for a 15 pound loss, but got 16! Elation! Bliss! Joy! I go in for my first fill and made the grave mistake of looking where my Dr. stuck the needle in. It didn't hurt, but I have a serious aversion to "looking" at needles or blood. So, I look away; quickly, and just when I think I won't puke and/or pass out, my Dr. says, "I need you to sit up and come over here to the x-ray machine. OMG, I can kind of see the needle poking out of my port. I look away; quickly...but not quickly enough. I'm standing there drinking that stuff, and just when I'm hoping that I won't puke and/or pass out, there's the needle, on the x-ray screen! I'm hanging in there, and looking at the ceiling, and finally I say, "Is it okay if I sit down?" My Doctor tells me that I can sit because we're through, and just when I think that maybe I won't puke and/or pass out, he comes over and just pops that needle out! Jeez! But, after some apple juice I was good to go. Nothing could get me down after that; not even learning that I have to be on liquids until tomorrow and I don't get to have any spaghetti tonight. Oh well, no worries. I'm just glad to be on this journey!

I never knew how many people are experts on how to loose weight and keep it off until I got banded. Now, they are coming out of the woodwork. I’m quiet. I’m calm. I don’t say anything, as they go on and on and ON! I decided early on to be open about being “banded.” Hell, I don’t care what people say or think, and if I can motivate just one person to do whatever works for them to lose the weight, then it’s worth it to me. However, when people find out that I’m banded; that’s when it alllll starts. “The best way to loose weight and keep it off is by eating 6 small meals a day.” “I just cut out all the sodas and that’s how I lost 30lbs.” “Yes, but if you don’t work out 5 times a week for at least 45 minutes, at your target heart range, you won’t keep the weight off.” “I don’t eat anything past 7:00 in the evening.” “I drink only the strained juice from boiled cabbage, and eat only egg white omelets.” “The best way to loose weight and keep it off is by eating 6 small meals a day.” “I do the Atkins diet. I know it’s not healthy, but that’s the best way to loose weight.” “You better be working out at least 3 days a week for 2 hours in the pool, with weights attached to your arms, legs and neck, or you won’t keep the weight off.” “The best way to loose weight is by “praying” it off, and if you pray the weight off you don’t have to exercise because God doesn’t like it when we sweat” “You have to work out EVERY SINGLE day, except Sunday, if you want to keep the weight off…and I think that’s in the Bible somewhere.” “I do the all carb diet.” “I lost 50lbs through hypnosis.” “If you don’t eat breakfast your metabolism stagnates and you’ll actually GAIN weight.” “You better be working out.” “The band causes your body to go into starvation mode and you actually GAIN weight…you need to have that taken out.” “If you don’t exercise, then your body starts burning muscle and you might loose weight, but you won’t keep it off…plus your body will look all gross.” But I don’t say anything. I just smile and think “idiots.” But, what I “want” to say…what I want to say is, “Well, I tell you what; none of this is your business. You obviously don’t have a clue as to what you’re talking about, so you can take your choice: you can either kiss my fat a** now, or you can wait, and kiss my skinny a** in a few months!

Suzette, You hear so much stuff, it can be difficult to sift through it all, and figure out what should be a real concern and what is just...junk. All I can tell you is what I have experienced, and keep in mind that of course, every person's experience can be different. First of all, I had my ovaries taken out almost a year ago, and have experienced pretty much "nothing." Losing weight didn't get harder or easier, it was the same as it always had been; difficult. Even if it does become harder on you to lose weight because of menopause, if you're eating no more than 1200 calories...even if you don't exercise, you're going to lose weight. Now, exercise ups your metabolic rate and helps you to burn calories faster and longer, but when you restrict the amount of calories that you take in to that degree; the weight will come off. I lost 71 lbs on Weight Watchers and never started day one of exercise. Restricting your food intake, even if you don't do anything else is the single most effective thing you can do to lose weight. Don't get me wrong though; exercise makes it monumentally easier to lose the weight. The chewing thing seems weird, but it's no big deal at all. Just take small bites...the size of a nickel, and chew about 25 times. That's all. No biggie. I don't know how you will recover, but I had my surgery Friday, December 22, and was shopping at the Mall of Georgia, December 26. The whole thing took 3 hours. I didn't have to stay overnight. It went over without a hitch. The surgery itself wasn't painful hardly at all for me, but that GAS! That was horrible. Walking really helps and Mylecon drops or Gas X strips. Somepeople keep the gas for weeks. I only had it for 4 days. I mean, it's not like it incapcitates you, it just feels like you're having a heart attack. Oh, plus you should have painkillers, so you'll be o.k. I had liquid Hydrocodone. I think you can eat the popcorn, but it goes through the band. I think that's it...but I'm not sure. Most likely it's not that you can NEVER have it, but until most of my weight is off, I won't. The spaghetti? I haven't heard anything about that...maybe I missed it. It's funny you should mention that though, because I made homemade spaghetti sauce last night, and couldn't have any becuase I went for my first fill, and you can only have liquids after the first fill...today at lunch though I had some. YUMMY! I didn't eat the noodles though. Proteins first, then carbs. I don't think you'll have a problem adjusting to the band, at all. Once you hit the "sweet spot", with your fills...and it usually takes about 3 times...you should be good. It is really no big deal. I know you're scared. I was too...so scared, but it was all for nothing. No big deal, sugar! Don't worry about it! The only thing I'd change is that I'd have done it YEARS AGO. Hope this has been helpful. Any other questions, just let me know. Wendy

Honey, Honey, HONEEEEYY! You are such a better person than I am! I would have went completely off and ripped them a new one! Anyone who makes that comment is plain and simple; an ignorant ass! If anyone says that we have taken the easy way out then they have NO CLUE what kind of a committment we've made. When I tell people that I can't drink carbonated drinks anymore, they look at me like I've just told them that I've lobbed off and arm! And, when the find out that I can't drink anything with my meals; EVER. They're amazed. But I think what most people don't realize...even many people who have been banded, is that the band is only a "tool." We still have to work very hard. Anyway...just ignore that idiot, or the next time someone says that...and I'm sure they will, just look at them and say very sarcastically, "Yeah, that's it. I took the easy way out. You definately know what you're talking about." Well, you know what they say; The best revenge is looking good."

Oh yes,yes, yes! Life is so great! And listen, don't you worry, people will notice soon enough. You just concentrate on celebrating every lost ounce and enjoying the journey!

NO, NO, NO! I didn't mean to scare you! It was more funny than anything. The pain was nothing, it's just my aversion to needles. I can't look! I'm a big weinie that way. I swear I have a huge tattoo at the small of my back. It took 3 hours and I didn't flinch, but you let me see a needle and I'll pass out! Don't think for a second that I wouldn't do it all over again in a heartbeat! My life is so amazing now. I've never been this happy!