Search the Community

I had been a skinny kid until the third grade, when being the smartest kid in school started causing problems with peer relationships. It all went downhill from there, and I used food as a source of pleasure in my life to blunt the fact that other kids didn't like me. My father died when I was 14, and the role of food as a source of pleasure and satisfaction increased. However, I played sports and was able to keep from being obese. During college, I was broke a lot since I was working my way through school, and I learned some very bad eating habits. I went from mild overeating to full on gorge myself when I had money to eat. That led to eating until I couldn't breathe or felt completely stuffed instead of eating until I wasn't hungry anymore. However, I was very active with activities and walking 5 miles or more every day on campus, so I managed to hold off any weight gain. After college I got a tech support job working at a desk 8 hours a day and went from wearing size 38 pants to size 50 on my wedding day in just 3 short years. I have worn size 50-52 pants since then. My basic problem is the inability to be satisfied unless I'm stuffed to the gills. I've trained myself that I'm either hungry or stuffed. I've been working on fixing this, but it's hard. It's hardest when I miss a meal because I have a hectic work schedule that dictates how I spend my time and sometimes means I miss scheduled meal times, and I get so hungry that I overeat and then some when I do eat. I've tried eating six smaller meals throughout the day, and it helps when I can stick to the schedule, as I never get so hungry that I go nuts. So, my food issues are psychological, even though I blossomed socially when I as a teenager. That, coupled with my sedentary lifestyle has resulted in me being 365 lbs. I carry a lot of muscle, but I'm still very much morbidly obese and fat.

I am the only overweight person in my family. My father theorizes that I overate because the first 3 months of my life I was always hungry. Everything that they tried to feed me made me sick and I would vomit it back up. I cried all the time because I was hungry until I started on a pre-digested soybean formula, which finally did the trick. When I was in my 20's I saw an overweight psychiatrist who had a similar story about herself, only her deprivation was caused by a sadistic nanny. So who knows? That same psychiatrist put me on Elavil (an older anti-depressant that was notorious for causing massive weight gain--although I didn't know that) and I put on 60 pounds in a year. Then she warned me about it. Also I have a mood disorder that started in childhood: severe, recurrent depression that started at age 7 and much later I was dx'ed with bipolar disorder. Hopelessness and binge-eating "feed" off of each other quite well. My psychologist of 12 years would not write an approval for the band because she feared that I might suffer a psychotic break if I lost food abuse as a coping mechanism. So far, so good. That said, I and only I chose to put every single bite of food into my mouth. It was always a choice, even when I felt powerless. Nothing compelled me to do it.

I had my sleeve surgery Jan 14, compared to others only lost 100lbs so already felt like a failure, now in the last 8 mths have put on 20lbs and just don't know where to start to head back in the right direction. I feel so alone and depressed but know I don't want to go back to my pre surgery weight. Is this my fault - absolutely it is.. Although I still have great restriction I sometimes don't eat the right foods and thus weight gain.. Any advise on a good starting point to get back on track would be most appreciated.. Many thanks

I started this journey back in September. I've kept a spreadsheet of all the HOOPS to jump through and I'm ALMOST there!! Like most of you, I really questioned this decision. I have always struggled with my weight, and have gained and lost 30 - 40 pounds every year for the past 20 years...but this time in 2014 I gained 85 pounds and was still climbing. I became a fitness instructor in 2002 and know how to keep healthy and fit, but since this last year of unprecedented weight gain and new and scary health consequences deleloping, it's clear I need a more permanent solution than sheer will power and head knowledge. I've got every size in my closet from an 8 to a 20 and I've worn them all just about every 18 months or so. Ugh. ANYWAY! I'm on the home stretch and have every reason to believe my surgery will be scheduled for March. I'm so excited! I'm so tired of being like those little plastic animals that expand to 10 times their size in Water, and shrink back down when they dry out.

It has been quiet and I guess I've not posted much either. I was fortunate to have someone that was about my age and size that had the surgery and walked this journey 2 years in front of me. I've also been texting a with a guy from our group that again, about my size and had the December surgery. The process is so unique to each of us as individuals that sharing experiences is great, but the drive and passion absolutely come from within. I feel like i know when I am doing well way before my scale says so. I am losing the weight as planned, walking/ jogging on treadmill 5-6 times per week and eating fairly well. When I deviate from the food plan, I know it comes with risks of my stomach disliking it (milk/ red meat) and even having a 1-2 day weight gain because of those choices. I've dabbled with alcohol, albeit, maybe 1-2 glasses of red wine from time to time and have had no bad side affects. Yesterday when I stepped on the scale in the morning and saw 244.7 lbs. I was very happy and declared yesterday a cheat day. I didn't go wild, but I made a small dish of my favorite nachos and ate about 1/3 of a box of whoppers. Didn't feel guilty in the least, but I made sure to get up this morning and put my 20 minutes of walking/ jogging in with 10 minutes of resistance bands. I'm not perfect by any means, but I am dedicated to the process and make sure that with each speed bump (planned or unplanned) that I follow it up with some good decisions to even things out. Fearing that I turn one cheat day/ bad day into 2 or 3 is my drive to stay focused. That's my 60 days post surgery story, what's yours?

I'm Julie. Born and raised in Louisiana but married a Mississippi man and moved here to be with him. I'm 40 y/o. Married to my soul mate and mother of a 17 yr old son with special needs. I work 2 jobs. So life is stressful. I was thin and even a beauty queen in my younger years but weight gain begin in my early 20's. my first consultation is Jan 14 w Dr Borland in Louisiana. I'm self pay ($9800) and I am hoping to schedule my surgery Feb 26. I hope to lose 130-160 lbs.

You're so right that a loss is so much better than the gradual, yet intermittent weight gains any day! Curves is good because there is no spandex or girls "trying too hard" and you can get done with your workout in a reasonable amount of time. At the one I go to, the music is more oldies so I'm looking forward to graduating to a gym that has a little more up-to-date music. It is especially good to go during the slow times at Curves so that you have access to all the equipment; for me that is mid-morning and mid-afternoon. Ladies here seem to flock in after dropping off kids for school or before they head home after work so if your job or hours are flexible enough, I'd suggest off prime time.

I hate the depo!!! I gained 30 pounds like it was nothing. I love my para guard IUD! No added weight gain and no hormones. Down 54 pounds in 5 months!

Depo shot me up about 50 pounds when I took it as well. I never would have but I went with a friend who didn't want to do it alone. Hurts and weight gain is CRAZY!

GIrl you look smoking. You are getting so tiny and your curves are lovely! I only own one dress I had thrown them out over the weight gain years. I have a denim one I bought a couple of months ago. I may try to thrown that on and get a couple pics tomorrow

Look what I found on another thread! From Physicology Today Article from the author of Passing for Thin Size and Sensibility Losing half her body weight was no picnic. But living thin—and expanding her sense of self—nearly made Frances Kuffle’s world blow up I had been summoned to The Show, the Holy Grail for authors and the fulfillment of all my mother’s dreams. In a harried day of phone calls from Chicago, at the tail end of a snowstorm, the producers of Oprah decided, with 90 minutes to catch the last shuttle out of LaGuardia, that they might want me. You’d think, on the eve of what could catapult my book to national attention, that I would be too nervous to eat. I am never too nervous to eat. As I grazed the basket of goodies in my expensive suite, I had two questions. First: Would Harpo Productions’ bean counters go over my hotel tab and ask, “Isn’t that the woman who lost all that weight? What are these charges for chocolate-covered almonds and honey peanuts doing here?” Second: Why am I eating all this stuff? I might be on TV tomorrow! What with Oprah replaying 24/7, everyone in America could count the bread crumbs on my velvet dress. So much for the can-do kid, who, after 42 years of obesity and missed opportunities, had lost 188 pounds and written a book about it. Passing for Thin: Losing Half My Weight And Finding My Self is an account of how I used my radical change in weight to turn a small, private worlds of eating and surviving into one as big as my former size 32 dresses. I climbed mountains! I swaddled myself in cashmere and had lovers; I went to Italy. I floated out of the gym after lifting weights, I sat in restaurant booths, wore bracelets, and crossed my legs and took the middle seat in airplanes. Then I used my weight loss to do the next impossible thing: I became and author. Being thin opened the doors to experience and intimacy. National exposure, however, was an intrusion I hadn’t considered. I am not a pundit or a role model. You’re going to be pilloried, Frances, I thought with the vehemence of a Sicilian curse. And yet, there I was gobbling Oprah’s $12 Cookies. I put on my pajamas and pulled back the comforter on the king-size bed. It was littered with wrappers. My cheeks were burning with shame and calories. Tomorrow, I promised myself solemnly. And when tomorrow came, I smiled and joked, and I was gracious when I wasn’t, after all, needed for the show. I ached not from disappointment but with the hangover of sugar in my muscles, the sour gas in my gut and the heartbreak of being a liar. After a failed romance and a change of jobs, I drifted into relapse in March 2003, a year before Oprah, I had time on my hands—and time, in my case, is the enemy. I filled it by studying where and how I went wrong, at the office, in the bedroom. Intellectually, I knew that the boyfriend was emotionally frozen and that my former employer was abusive and infantilizing, but I couldn’t shake my ingrained conviction that I was responsible for everything that went wrong. I stopped going to the gym: I started eating peanuts or rice cakes between meals. A little of this, a little of that, and one morning I announced to a friend that I saw no reason why I couldn’t eat blackberry pie and ice cream, get the craving out of my system and return to my abstinence by noon. I wasn’t talking about a slice of pie a la mode. I was talking about a whole pie and a pint of ice cream. A whole pie? That summer I was reminded at every turn that I needed to be thin to promote my book. “You don’t want those cookies, honey”, my mom said as I carried off a stack I’d grabbed from the cooling rack. “Remember: You’re going to be in Oprah’s Magazine.” She was wrong. I did want those cookies, and I didn’t need reminding about Oprah. I sighed and took two more. When I asked myself what I needed, I was met with an unconsoling barrage of hungers. I needed to know I was not disposable. I needed a resting place. I needed to know I had enough stuff to carry off the rest of my life—enough talent, discipline, and intelligence—and enough sufficiency to protect myself from more heartbreak. I needed enough hope to find the friends and man I mourned the lack of. From August 1999 to August 2003, I’d gambled that losing weight would get me closer to all that, and I was told what to eat in those years. Now, after three years of maintaining my weight loss, I needed to be told what to feel when everyone but me has an opinion of who I am. I knew I—not just my body but my very self—was in trouble when I brushed aside a fleeting thought about how fat I looked with the answer “Never mind. You’ll like yourself when you get thin.” How does one live with self acceptance as a future and an always-conditional state of mind? More pragmatically, in lieu of my size 8 clothes, my career depended on self assurance. When asked, I admitted that I’d gained weight, adding that I never presented myself as the poster girl of thin. I said this with poise, which is not the same thing as confidence. Poise is teachable; confidence is one of the elements missing from the periodic table, three parts self respect to two parts experience. To get to confidence, I was going to have to listen to my self-accusations and sit with the rejections. Maybe shame had something to teach me. My next recovery period from food addiction would be based on therapy, heretofore more a matter of coaching than peeling back the layers of self. My psychiatrist’s and therapist’s offices became the places I could air my feelings about myself and the hopes I could change my self-perception. “There’s no point in getting depressed just because I’m depressed” I told my psychiatrist, who increased my morning meds anyway. That October, on a blue-and-gold afternoon, I had Indian food with Lanie, a friend visiting from my hometown, Missoula, Montana. I described how depressed I was by my weight gain until she preempted me. “You’ve been very fat, Frances, and you’ve been very thin. Welcome to where the rest of us live.” I twiddled my fork in my plate of saag panir. I think of Lanie as being very tall and very thin, but a few months earlier I’d helped her pick out a dress. Her dress size was similar to what I was wearing that day. The event we shopped for had been a gathering of Montana writers, many of them old friends, all middle-aged. One had a rounder face than I remembered; another wore layers of a truly terrible print in the style that catalogs and store clerks describe as “flattering”. Someone else was still very thin but looked drawn and brittle as age caught up with her bone structure. These were woman I’d long envied for their pretty thinness, and yet I’d been less like them when I was a size 8 than I was now. At size 8, I had to admit, I was so self-conscious (and secretly, overweening proud of it) that often that was all I was. I could have programmed my answering machine to announce, “Hi, you’ve reached a size 8. Please leave a message and either the size 8 or Frances will get back to you.” None of the women at that party, or Lanie savoring her lamb jurma across from me, claimed their identities from their weights that night. They wanted to gossip, compare stories of their kids and discuss what they were writing, tell old jokes more cleverly than thy had at the last party, and sample the Desserts weighing down the potluck buffet. I was not unlike them. Smaller by a size than Lanie, larger by a size than Laura, a little fresher looking than Diane. Of the Americans who lose weight, 95 percent gain it back within five years. I had gained a third of it back. Not all of it. To some extent, I had beaten the odds. I was stronger than the echoes of the boyfriend and boss allowed me to hear. I was determined not to repeat the mistake of being, rather than having, a thin body. I’d lived through my size all of my life, so acutely aware and ashamed of my obesity that the likable things about me—my sense of humor, my intelligence, talent, friendliness, kindness—were as illusory to me as a magician’s stacked card deck. As long as I defined myself by my body size, I would not experience those qualities for myself. As fall turned to a snowy winter, I picked through the spiral of relationships that had unglued me the year before. I didn’t blame the boyfriend or my boss for my relapse. I had been half of the problem; healthier self esteem would not have collapsed under their judgments of me. In obesity, I had clamped my arms to my sides to keep from swinging as I walked. I craned my body over armrests in theaters and airplanes, stood in the back of group photos to minimize the space I took up. I got thin and continued to hide. Whatever reasons the boyfriend had come up with for not seeing me, I met with amicability and sympathy. Had I reacted honestly, even to myself, I might have ended the relationship. Instead I’d gambled all my sweetness only to find out I was disposable. Likewise, I had not pressed my boss for an agenda of responsibilities from the start, nor had I clarified with her that her work and recreation styles frustrated and frightened me. Slowly I began to find toeholds in the avalanche of food and doubt. I worried about how fat I looked to potential readers and what I could possible wear to flatter or disguise the 40 pounds I’d gained. At the same time, however, I had become the canvas of makeup artists, stylists, photographers and publicists. They weren’t looking at my stomach. “Give me a hundred-watt smile,” commanded a photographer whose censure I thought I’d seen when I walked in. I licked my teeth and flashed a grin only somewhat longer than her camera flare. “Wow.” She straightened up at the tripod. “That really is a hundred watts. These are gonna be great.”. When I saw myself in the magazine, my smile was, in fact, the focal point. When I began dating, at the age of 45, my smile was an attribute men commented on, but I hadn’t really seen it until it was emblazoned on glossy paper. It was bigger, it seemed, than my face itself. I’d been a size 8 in my author photo, taken as my food plan was wobbling but not yet in smithereens, in June 2003. I was surprised to see I still looked like….myself, apparently. The power of my smile fueled me through more publicity, giving me a sense of authentic attractiveness that allowed me to enjoy the process. When I had a couple of days in Santa Monica between readings, I had a chance to assess and absorb at my own pace. Walking along the Palisades, I admired the sea-twisted pines and pearly mist funneling out of Malibu Canyon. I felt as lucky as I had once felt by being hired, by being loved, and I felt worthy of my luck because I appreciated the prettiness of the place, the serendipity that brought me there and my particular grateful awareness that knitted the moment together. I’d tried to rob myself of that by punishing myself for the boss and the boyfriend. You should not have treated me that way, I thought. The emphasis was on “me”, and just then I knew who that was. I looked around carefully. There was a family reunion going on, or so I assumed until I got closer and realized it was cookout hosted for the park’s lost and unfound citizens. I smiled to myself. How…California. No gritty, iron-shuttered Salvation Army outposts here, no Soup and Jell-O punishment for being a bum. No siree Bob. In California, the homeless are just one more variant on the Beach Boys. I laughed out load. I’m here, I gloated. I like my own company. I was tired of the games—with food, with hiding what I looked like under big clothes and my big smile, with waiting until I was a size 8 again to like myself. I recommitted to chipping at my food addiction, but I let go of some of the rigidity I’d had in the first years of losing and maintaining my weight loss. “I want to be praised when I do things right, and I want to be forgiven when I mess up.” I told people closest to me. “And I want milk in my coffee.” It was a small list, but significant because it allowed me to fumble as I gained my momentum of eating sanely. Esteem, kindness, patience, forgiveness: By cloaking myself in these qualities, I could build a self that was not afraid of authority figures and charming men who have one eye on the door. Maybe these attributes will curb the millions of things that make me want to eat, starting with seeing my parents or returning to Montana. I turn into the kid whose mother had to make her school uniform, whose big tummy stretched the plaid into an Etcher cartoon; I became the sad, joking fat college student who was reading The Fairy Queene while her girlfriends were soaking up the half-naked wonder of being 20 years old. I think of my parents’ kitchens, and my mouth waters for gingerbread and well-buttered toast. I regress when I let people like Lanie, whose struggle is different, comment or take chare of what I eat. “That’s two Entrees, Francis,” Lanie pointed out when I said I wanted goat cheese salad and roast chicken for our first lunch together in Paris. “Oh, Well, then, I’ll have the salad I guess,” I settled, grumpily. That’s the way I eat, that’s how I lost 188 pounds; vegetables and Protein. I was allowing her to limit me to a smidgen of cheese, or insufficient vegetables, and allowing her supervision is how I got so mad--the fatal elixir of anger and crazed desire—that I bought all the chocolate in Charles De Gaulle for my untasting delectation. I am the kid who, when told not to put Beans up her nose, heads directly to the pantry. “I have got to learn to tell people to stay out of my food,” I reported to my therapist back in new York. Then again, perhaps this is an evolutionary process rather than a one-time miracle cure. In 2003, I denned up for two months in Montana and ate. In 2004, I struggled again in Montana but I also did a lot of hiking, alone with my dog and with my niece. My slow pace didn’t frustrate either of them. I went horseback riding and got a terrific tan while swimming every afternoon. My thighs did not chafe in the August heat along the Seine, and I was thrilled to cross the Appalachian Trail later that autumn. I had spells of disappointment and fear from the way I ate, but I was living in my body, on my body’s terms. It’s a small world I’ve pulled from the wrappers, boxes and crumbs in the past two years, but a very human one. I’ve seen my family, close friends and therapists hold on to the stubborn believe that I would come through this. They loved me enough to countenance my mistakes and let me start over. Each day, I venture a little farther from the safety of food, and my courage comes from understanding that I am a lot like a lot of people—a family member, a friend, a dog owner, a recidivist, a middle aged woman, a writer who got a good rhythm going and forgot to brush her hair. There is safety in numbers. Depression and relapse would have to wait for a different excuse than my size. I am ready to hope again. Frances Kuffel is the author of Passing for Thin: Losing Half My Weight And Finding My Self (Broadway books, 2004). Her website is • Frances Kuffel • author of Passing For Thin - Home

it'll be ok mKat, they will take care of whatever it is and who knows, maybe that is the cause of your weight gain and then you wont have to get the band.

My firend took Zyban and did wonderful.She was able to quit. Her only problem was the routine she had. Aftet every meal she smoked, breaks at work, before bed. Her solution, red hot tamalies from the states. ( A red hot chewie candy ) She would eat five of these vile candy every time she wanted a smoke. (That is about 20 of those awful candy a day ! yuck )After about a month she no longer needed the candy to distract her. And no weight gain, she is one of those who can eat whatever and still wears a 7 pants! Y

so, i had m surgery on July 14, and first time i have weighed myself since surgery (same scale) I am up 5 pounds. Since i am tracking my intake and know that i am consuming about 600 calories, i ask....is this normal? Am i just holding surgical/anesthesia/fluid? So odd.

I just had my lap band surgery on 11/2/09. I'm 5 days post-op and feel pretty good except some intermittent pain under my left rib cage. Dr. Hoffman and the staff and the comprehensive weight loss center are amazing. I started my journey in August @ 277 and was 247 on the day of surgery. By keeping my food logs and following the south beach/low glycemic diet as well as exercising it's been easy. As a matter of fact, I'm chomping at the bit to get back to the gym. Right now I'm only able to tolerate 1 to 2 oz of protein shake every hour and am down 6 lbs since surgery. I have my follow-up with Dr. Hoffman on Tuesday. I also like the fact that they have the weight loss support group that meets monthly. I went even prior to having my surgery and it was great to talk with everyone that was there. I'm hoping to go to this months meeting and then I'll be there regularly starting in January (had conflict with bowling on Wednesdays). I saw a bunch of post regarding weight gain and my advise it to start doing food logs again and jump on the south beach wagon again. Make sure you're getting your exercise too. I swear by the food logs. It makes you accountable for your choices. Surgery is a tool but you have to be incontrol of what you put in your mouth.

wow, that is a long way off, but you will no doubt enjoy the holiday fiests. Just be mindful and do the best you can and worry about the weight gain later, you'll do fine. Me on the other hand, I have delved into the peanut butter cups and cant stop myself......aaaaahhhhh!!!!

Bob--welcome back from the Farm. I was beginning to think you'd been lost in a freak combine/thresher accident. What game will provide your next diversion? Dottie--I’m sorry your doctor wasn’t supportive. I am not sure why some doctors seem to approach giving fills as somehow bestowing a great, yet undeserved, gift. I’m with Leigha and Jim--remember that you’re paying him, and that he has a job to do. Heaven knows you’re doing your part of the job very well. Now he needs to do his. Preferably without making you feel bad in the process. (Phhht. Screw his stats. Does he really think they're reflective of his success? They're not.) TJ--I agree 100 percent with you. We have to be responsible for our own bodies. I’ve been remarkably lucky, because my doctor is very well-rounded and we click. But even so, there are decisions I make that don’t quite mesh with his “plan.” I am perfectly fine with that--and so is he. It works well. I’m glad you have a doctor who approaches things with you similarly. I think it makes a tremendous difference. Good aftercare is so important--and having it with a good doctor is a pleasure. Denise--I love your plate NSV! Good luck with the doctor--I hope you get set on a path to get good answers so that you feel well again. Stacey-- I will send a friend request on FB. I’m Betsy Banks-Golub. I’m glad you’re seeing your PCP. Getting your asthma under control will help a lot. But remember, exercise doesn’t have to be punishing in order to be effective. Can you walk without experiencing symptoms? I’m sorry you’re battling depression, too. It can throw a wrench into the works, for sure. There are lots of options for treatment. While some meds can produce weight gain, usually relieving depression makes it easier to comply with eating and exercise plans, so loss is quite often a feature that accompanies recovery. I took Cymbalta for fibromyalgia pain for a few years. It was very helpful in terms of weight loss. It’s one of the antidepressants for which this seems to be a common feature, so it might be worth looking in to. Wellbutrin, too, is frequently chosen because it promotes loss. But in general, the most important thing is getting the depression under control so that the lifestyle stuff can follow. Don't underestimate the value of exercise and good nutrition to reducing depression. Once you're in a better place (both in terms of your asthma and depression), you'll feel the changes these promote, and one good day will be the foundation for the next. Before you know it, you'll have a chain of successes. And that will help motivate you on the days when doing what you need to do just isn't all that appealing. I hope you get good guidance and help and are soon feeling much better. We’re all here for you. HB--That’s quite a video LOL Bobbie--I’m so sorry your “interview” wasn’t an interview. You must be so disappointed. We’ve had to endure the double-unemployment thing, and it’s so, so hard. Your family is in my prayers---I know you will find something soon.

How does zero calorie and zero sugar diet pop cause you to gain weight? I see Chrystal Light talked about here a lot and it has aspartame and a list of chemicals longer than diet pop. Why is that recommend over diet pop? Just because a doctor says so is not good enough for me. When I was a kid our family doctor told us we would all have heart attacks if we continued to eat eggs. Anti eggs was the fad back then and most doctors went with it. Now eggs are considered a super food. What happened? Why did doctors suddenly change? Diet pop has been out for 50 years and yet there are very few studies that actually study causation. The ones I have found show that people do not gain anymore weight by drinking diet pop. I personally have lost 70 pounds and counting drinking diet pop. None of the ingredients in diet pop has been proven to cause weight gain. Diet pop is just a carbonated version of Water and Chrystal Light.

I found that too but might as well not post the studies as it seems people don't want to see these types of truths. That article is wayyyyy too logical. Interesting that the article you posted states to not limit sweets but rather the volume. I'm sure that will be argued with as well. I don't think this is a study. By study I am looking for an actual experiment with a control or double blind controls and results or findings. The problem with so many food based studies is that they are not experiments but survey based. i.e. the issue with drinking diet sodas, does diet soda cause obesity or contribute or is do obese people just happen to drink diet soda? In order to truly know the effect of diet soda on our sleeves we would need to find results of a study where 2 groups were one drinking diet soda and one not. Their diets would need to be the same and their exercise the same and their weight gain/loss and comparative endoscopy results might allow us to draw some real conclusion about the effect of diet soda on your sleeve and weight loss. In the absence of that everything is conjecture and the only sensible alternative is to follow the advice of your physician, not the advice of someone else physician. After all if you hit a stall or a complication it is your actual physician you are going to be looking to help you correct things.

Betsy: Whoa...just read the posts on Mark. Lots of prayers and good wishes winging your way. Jen: Congrats on no 'camel toe' and yes, you did say that. I'm going to giggle all morning over that one. IllumLady: 14"! Woot! You go, girl. That is an incredible difference! You must feel mah-velous! Lizzy: Frighteningly, according to the rising number of drivers getting in accidents as a result of talking on cell phones, these moments do not stop when they start driving. Leigha: Sorry your husband's tired of hearing about your weight loss. Next time he says so, ask him if this isn't better than hearing about your weight *gain*. Besides...you have us and we love to hear about your weight loss! Ok...page 10...back to reading... Cocoa: Ok, I am laughing about your stuck episode and husband's response but only because I've 'been there, done that'. It's getting to the point where I just don't want to eat out anymore because I'm never sure what's going to do it next. Congrats on being so close to goal! Wow...how did I miss that?! As for heading your way for the cleaning...my method of organizing involves getting rid of anything I haven't used in the last year. I stick it in a box and put it in the garage...and if nobody misses it for the 2nd year, out it goes...and I don't even open the box up first cuz you know how that will go...back in the house. BT: LOL on creating blender masterpieces. One of my band books has a bunch of recipes that are quite...ummm...creative. If you get a craving for a cheeseburger, try this one. Take one Wendy's single with cheese and remove the top bun only. Tear/cut the rest up and put in blender. Add beef broth and run until you have a slurry of whatever thickness you like. Voila! Cheeseburger shake! GACK!! These people must honestly think fat people will eat *anything*. Good luck on your 'create-a-shake'. HB: I used to love bowling, but found at some point that I just couldn't bend enough to get that ball off right because I did worry about splitting my crotch. Guess I just didn't have my priorities right, eh? :thumbup: All the rest, forgive me if I missed commenting. Soooo many posts! Ok...off to make my shake and I will be back...

This thread is for those longer out from their surgery. I'm not sure why the newbies keep coming in here and posting about weight gain right after their surgeries. When I catch these posts, I try to post something nice to guide them to other threads but they still keep coming in here.

This is such a hard journey for all of us.... I the first year, I thought I had it made. I was so success. Now over 2 years out I have had to look at my weight gain and get back on track with tracking my intake of food, weighing on a daily basis and re-establishing that "yes, I am a sugar addict." when I eat sugar, even just a bit, I will gain weight. It so sucks at times....But I did gain about 6 lbs and as I stopped the sugar intake by closely monitoring all processed foods for sugar, corn, soybeam oil, or any other hidden sugar name. I am also following the 5:2 diet plan and am getting back to my goal.....It's hard and I get so tired of it and then my old pattern of junk enters the picture for just a second, and I'm a goner.... So now I'm using my positive self talk of "I'd rather be healthy and thin than carry on all that extra weight again." It works for me right now and plus I have reverted back to my old habits from the 1st year which is: eat protein first, veggies, little to no bread or tortillas, no pasta, no rice and eating organic.... This is my life style now. Eating out I eat pretty clean too. So I can not revert back and give up on myself.....I don't want anymore surgeries unless it's a plastic surgeon for my excess skin.

Newbies... Relax... Key your took do it's job and don't obsess over the numbers in a scale. Follow your plan, step on a scale once every couple weeks... Measure once a month... It will happen.. Now I have been sleeved over 2 years.. I lost a boat load (287 to 115) and an currently struggling with a 15 pound weight gain. Don't sound like much, however it seems to be a huge difference in clothes. At 115 for over a year, a size 2; to a size 10????? In a matter of 3-4 months??? This is the craziest thing ever! Sorry, just needed to vent.

ALMOST 5 YEARS OUT!! Long story short. Sleeved April 2010 went from 230s to 108 at my lowest. Stayed steady from year 2-3. After 3 years out stayed steady at 118 for another year. Now year 4-5 I am 128. Now take into account I workout at least 4-5 days a week including weight training & running 7-10 miles a week. I do believe some of the weight gain is muscle. I went from a 0/2 to a 6/8 now. I used to drop pounds just breathing. Now I have to work really hard. Bottom line eating better & working out is the only key. I vowed to never return to my previous weight. Ever. Stay strong everyone!! Btw: I am 4'11 & 37 years old. With 2 children. I also wanted to add that the number on the scale isn't what I fully look at. Yes I may have been 108 lbs at one point but I looked like skin hanging on bones. Now I am happy looking healthy & strong. I have worked through many aches & pains working out & running. From ankles, knees & hips.

@@sleeve 4 me. I am 10 months out and at my lowest weight (-100 pounds and 12 pounds below goal) But here are my weight "gains" since VSG.... Gained at least 5 pounds immediately post op. Took 11 days to get back to my surgery day weight. Gained 3 pounds at 6 weeks out for no apparent reason, stalled for a month and then continued to lose. Gained 11 pounds in 1 day at 2 1/2 months out after receiving IV fluids when I was severely dehydrated from diarrhea due to a clostridium infection. Gained 4 pounds on vacation at 9 1/2 months out. (Probably water weight from all the alcohol I drank) Dropped those 4 pounds plus 1 extra within 10 days of returning home. Not sure if this is what you were looking for.