The big 4-0

That's right. I turned the big 4-0. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be....(pssst...I was born in 1980, you do the math).

That's right people. I hit 40 lbs lost on the scale this week. (Weirded out is still the phrase of the day).

I really never thought it would be possible. Let's do some reflecting as well as looking at the future.
I'm a little hesitant to look back because I sort of want to slap myself. (I know, get in line, right?) I think about how happy I am now. For as many people who have told me that I seem so much happier, I can't believe how obvious it must have been how terrible I felt about myself. I wish there was a way I could go back and view myself like I was watching a TV show and look from the outside....I imagine it would be a giant eye opener.
Which then brings me to the point about how much time I've wasted. I'm not even going to talk about that anymore. I'm just going to leave that out there.

Looking to the future, Monday starts hitting the gym again. (Stay positive, stay positive, stay positive...a fork in the eye WILL NOT feel better than going to the gym)
I've lost 40 lbs in just short of 2 months. 2 more months from now is my first wedding dress shopping experience and I hope that I can lose another 40 lbs.

What the hell just happened?

This might be hard for some to understand, but I'm kind of weirded out right now. (Side note: spell check doesn't recognize "weirded" as a word. Random fact of the day). I have to go to the fancy GE Healthcare Institute tomorrow. (Second side note: although if you work for GE, you would naturally think that would be a place with a padded room where we all go brush each others hair and talk about what the bananas say to us, sadly, it's not).

So. I knew I needed a new suit jacket, so I killed some time at Macy's today while my cat Christopher was getting shaved. Yes I said shaved. He gets a lion cut. RAWR. So I looked around and tried on some. I ended up purchasing a size 16. Let's rewind for a second here. I started this journey at almost a size 24 pants. I just bought a SIXTEEEEEN. I can't even remember the last time I saw that number. And I'm just about in a size 18 pants. This means that I am 3 short sizes away from being a size 12. A FREAKING 12. I never thought that would be possible again.....

........here's where it gets all Crazy Town. (Remember? I'm the President. Also, I plan on ruining next Tuesday night's TV for you with my State of the Union address, just wanted you to know).
I get the fact that I'm down sizes. I sort of can comprehend that. I can SEE that I'm buying smaller clothes. But when I look in the mirror, I don't see it. I see my fat ass and my gut. And the same size I saw in the mirror when I started this, I still see. So it's kind of weird thing to know in your head that you really are smaller, but then to have that total body dysmorphia going on.

Excuse me while I go talk to the bananas.

These are the fills of our lives

I had my second fill yesterday. I now have 3.5 cc's in my band. I don't really know what's normal, or if there is a normal, or if it varies with everyone. I do remember them saying pre-op that as you lose weight, you lose fat around your stomach which causes the band to loosen again, triggering your need for another fill.

It's the weirdest thing...I know my Dr thinks I'm crazy (and I am but that's entirely besides the point). I told him that after my last fill I got really hungry and it seems to have happened again this time. I'm not STARVING like I was last time, but I am a bit more hungry today than I expected to be.
The fill yesterday went much more smoothly than the first one.

 I didn't even cry, which if you know me, is a feat beyond imagination. This time, I did NOT send my Dr whitewater rafting down the hallway of the hospital in a red innertube coasting on my tears. So, that's always a plus.

I seem to always be his last appt of the day, and he seemed to be in a hurry yesterday. He stabbed me with the saline before the numbing stuff had a chance to take effect, so it was a little uncomfortable, but definately not intolerable.

So. Today I weighed myself and I'm just shy of 40 lbs lost total. 2 lbs shy to be exact. It's hard to believe that in 12 short lbs, I will have lost 50 lbs. I can't quite comprehend it yet. I feel like I'm looking at someone else's scale when I weigh in. It's weird. Again...welcome to crazy town.

I'm an asshole

And a hypocrite it appears. I guess at least I can admit it? This might get some very angry responses, and I'm ok with that. You don't have to agree with me....I almost can't believe I'm writing this myself...

I'm watching Say Yes to the Dress this morning. There's a woman on there who is VERY plus size and she is complaining that she can't find any sample dresses to try on for her wedding. Then they interviewed her mom who said something along the lines of "It's so sad that designers today don't keep the plus size girls in mind" and she started to cry.
Then later on she said "Come on, the average person isn't a size 6". 

I about jumped through the TV to punch both of them. No, the average person isn't a size 6, but they are maybe a 12 or a 14. Look...I've only lost 35 lbs. I still weigh 250 and am still considered plus size. I've only gotten down to a size 20, so it's not like I'm a size 2 who is saying these things. (Yes, I know I'm still an asshole). You know what? Lose some weight if you have such an issue with it. That's what I did...I didn't want to try to try on wedding dresses as a fat bride. So I did something about it.

We have an epidemic in this country. We are DYING in this country...in this world. And instead of bitching because designers don't make things in your size, do something about your health.

All you have to do is do it.

So since my surgery, I haven't yet hit the gym. I know I have to...but if you know me, you know that I would rather walk over hot coals barefoot, while sticking a fork in my eye, while letting a clown rip my fingernails out than go to the gym.
Literally. (Do you see this face? Would I kid about clowns? I think not.)

I asked for super fancy Reebok balance ball shoes for Christmas to give me a little motivation. And again today, I said to myself, "Ok kid. Monday is it. YOU, my friend, are hitting the gym Monday after work, end of story."
I mean really, is walking for 30 min on a treadmill going to kill me? Probably. And when the paramedics come to take my lifeless body off the treadmill, at least I'll be covered in sweat when they do it. So there's that glamour vision as well.

Then, my BFF Sue (I was hesitant to watch because I assumed it was something completely inappropriate like clowns, talking lobster babies or something worse), sent me THIS LINK .
WATCH IT. I'M SERIOUS. DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE.

I'm pretty sure I will go to the gym Monday, and if I try to talk myself out of it, I'm going to watch this video over and over and over.

Fire in the hole

Not really. Because if that were true I'd be one happy camper.

For the most part, there hasn't been anything to report. I've been holding at the same weight. Still hungry. Probably eating more than I should be, but really trying to watch it. I get my second fill next Monday. I'm still a little nervous because I still have this pain in my left side. It's the same pain, in the same spot that landed me in the emergency room. I can only assume it's gas. (Now you get the fire in the hole reference, don't you?)

It comes and goes as does the intensity. Friday evening I was in a lot of pain again. Not as bad as the ER visit, but that may have been because I knew what it was this time? 
At any rate, it's not as bad as it was, but it's still there...nagging...every time I take a deep breath, every time I have to sneeze....

I don't know what's causing it...I can't pin it on a specific food.
Normally I would have no problem just hitting up my GP and asking for an xray or some advice, but it's a new year, which means a new insurance deductible has to be met. My deductible is $800. I suppose, maybe it would make sense for me to just do it and get the deductible portion over with. Then any future issues I won't have so much concern. I know! Maybe I'll just move to Europe until this is all over. Because clearly that would cost me less money? Smart idea, genius.

In other news, we have a crap load of snow here in Milwaukee. It blows. 

Starving

Like little children in Ethiopia. (too far?) I'm so hungry all the time. I don't get my next fill for two more weeks. This made me ponder something.
I'm feeling now, how I felt before the surgery, which got me to the weight I was...hungry all the time. Never satisfied, no matter how much protein I eat.
So, what this made me ponder, is how do normal skinny people do it? I mean, normal people, who don't have weight issues and who haven't had weight loss surgery.
Why is it that I feel hungry all the time? Do they? Do they ignore it? Do they have a way to conquer it? Are they actually NOT feeling hungry? If they don't feel hungry, what's so special about them? Is there a certain food that they eat that helps? They say protein is supposed to keep you full, but I'm eating protein like it's going out of style, and it's not helping as much as I'd hoped. If there is something that's helping them stay full, why are they not sharing it? Why are they hogging all the skinniness? And in all these years of medicinal progress where we have figured out a way to do practically anything, how have we not figured out a way to cure the hunger feeling, short of a lobotomy?

So. Many. Questions.

I mean, that's no way to go through life...feeling an empty belly all the time. It's miserable. Just ask those kids in Ethiopia.

These are the shakes of your life...

I'm really tired of tuna. Like, I swear to god, if I see another can of tuna, I'm either going to turn into a tuna or murder someone. I feel like when people look at me all they see is tuna. And the above is not attractive. I mean, I hate Lady Ga Ga, so the thought of wearing tuna like she wore her meat dress makes me want to kick someone.
So I'm kind of struggling with high protein things to eat. When I do actually feel like eating, I either feel like I'm eating the same things over and over again, or I'm feeling guilty because I'm eating something that doesn't have protein, like cans of mandarin oranges. I know that I have to take a chill pill (who prescribes those by the way? )

And then I was sitting here tonight watching the Packers kick the Eagles ass (GO PACK GO) and I was thinking about how terribly I was craving some ice cream.
And THEN...I remembered that I have a whole recipe sheet of yummy protein shakes that I haven't taken advantage of. LIGHT BULB! GENIUS!
*scratches myself behind my ear* "Who's the smartest little protein sucker you know? Yes, you are snookums"

So. I took some milk, some chocolate protein powder, half a banana, some ice, some pineapple juice and chunks and made a yummo shake!

Tomorrow I'm going to get some lime juice and some vanilla waffers and throw those in a blender and have me a key lime shake. FUN!
(I already know I need a life, no sense in pointing it out)

Gross-a-roo

Some random things have happened since surgery. And I have to think that it's all in this crazy town head of mine because I doubt squishing my stomach did this.
I was driving home from work yesterday and hadn't planned my meals out perfectly because I was starving. I was just thinking about how I couldn't wait to get home and eat because I was so hungry. Then I thought..."Well, I could just quick stop at McD's and get a burger and just eat the meat to hold me over."

I then proceeded to gag. And then I realized how thinking about fast food makes me want to puke. Like even typing this out, I'm trying not to gag.

Which is totally weird and random to me, because, hello? Who doesn't want a delicious Big Mac with special sauce? Or a giant bean burrito from Taco Bell? Because, before surgery, that stuff was the standard. I don't particularily care to cook....ok that's not exactly true. I pretty much hate to cook, I think it sucks, it makes my kitchen messy, it's too much work, and I should have a personal chef at my finger tips at all times.

Whatever triggered this aversion to fast food I certainly am thankful for. 

Panic at the disco

What the french toast?
It appears the panic attacks have returned. See, the thing about my panic attacks is most of the time they aren't situational. I mean sure, sometimes they are--right before surgery, I knew that's what was causing the anxiety. But usually, I don't have one thing I can pin point that I can focus on to tell myself not to worry to relieve the anxiety. They just appear...out of nowhere, at any time, kind of like when Harry Potter removes his invisibility cloak.

I've always had trouble sleeping. I mean, for as long as I can remember. I've tried OTC sleeping pills, I've tried ambien, I've tried tea, I've tried melatonin...you name it I probably have tried it. Most of the time, I can fall asleep easily, but then I wake up in the middle of the night. Lately, it's been not even being able to fall asleep. I'm so exhausted and I want to close my eyes, and then just as I start to fall asleep, PANIC! My legs get weird, like I feel like I just can't stretch my legs enough and I start to feel like someone is sitting on my chest, and then I have to get up and walk around. I wonder if I have Restless Leg Syndrome sometimes. But I think it's more my anxiety and how it manifests? Who knows.

This is the first time the leg thing has followed me into the following day. The anxiety is still here too. Like dark horsemen of the apocolypse just following me around in their hoods being all horseman-ey and stuff.

I really need to go back and do yoga again. I feel like that really relaxed me when I was doing it with my co-worker. The whole bending thing right now though is a little challenging. So...in the meantime, I called the doctor and asked him to refill my lorazapam and ambien. He better do it.

Fill er up, Armando

In hindsight, I probably should have postponed today's doctor's appointment. I did want to go and see the Dr to make sure everything was healing nicely...just so I am not looking like Jaws attacked me inside or something.
I've been in pain a while now, right around my port. It's hard for me to bend over or lift anything. The Dr said it was normal, could be scar tissue, and it will just take some time to heal especially since I'm moving around more.
So, instead of using those MBA smarts I have and telling him I'll come back another day when I'm less sore, I decided to just go for it.

The Dr seemed to think it was ok to go for it as well. Which, with his track record, I'm not sure why I keep thinking he is the smartest tool in the shed. In the bedside manner, maybe you should heal first arena, he might be a taco short of a combination plate, bright as Alaska in December, the cheese slid off his cracker, etc etc etc.
So anyways, my fill was done in the office and took about 10 min tops. I laid down on the bed where he lifted my shirt a little (get your minds out of the gutter, this isn't some trashy novel with Fabio). My new favorite nurse gave me some kleenex because she knew I was going to cry, since you know, that's one of my hobbies.

The worst part of it was because I'm already in pain. He poked around and pressed around to find the port (OW) which hurt only because I'm still healing. Once he found the port, he numbed me, I felt some pressure while he poked around again (OW) and then, before I knew it, I was done. I have been salined. I really don't feel much different.

You're probably wondering where this Armando business comes in? Well if you weren't, you are now. I have decided that "the port" and "the band" seem so cold and unfeeling. I've decided to name the new addition to my body Armando.

Shhhhhh, that's enough talk for today. Armando is sleepy. And sore. 

Welcome New Year

Wow. This is going to be a big year. I will be married in 10 months. And I hopefully will be skinny when it happens.

As of today, it's officially been one month since my surgery. And as of today, I weigh in at 258. Still staying right around the same I've been for a while, but that's ok. Tomorrow I am supposed to have my first fill. Although, I don't remember what time my appt is so that may have to be pushed back. Actually, the way I feel about my doctor, he should pretty much just be at my beck and call. Whenever I show up, he should just be ready for me. I figure he kind of owes me.
I'm still having some pain. Quite a bit around where my port is. The nurse said it's normal and it has been fairly manageable. I want to ask the doctor for some more liquid oxycodone, but I'm worried he's going to think that I am a druggie. I only take it at night and it really helps me sleep since that pain is managed. Maybe if I go in there and show him that I have no track marks and show him my bank account is empty, he'll understand that I do just want it for the pain.
I'm also going to head back to the gym this week. Just going to do some walking on the treadmill I think. At least until the pain around the port settles down.