Stagnant

Not moving. Still. Hasn't budged. The same. Motionless. Immobile.
That would be the scale. I'm stuck at 244. So...here's the thing...remember that last post where I was all "Everytime I worked out in the past I stopped losing weight"? Um. Oh hey there scale. How come you aren't moving?

Ok, so in reality, this has happened a couple times. I've lost a big chunk and then I've seen the scale hold for a little while. Which is normal. I know my body is taking time to catch up to what's going on.

But I can't help but go into full on panic mode. Like there's a fire and my dog is stuck under the bed. Or I went on a shopping spree and spent all my money and now I can't pay my rent. Or, wait...do I want two pink lines or one???? TWO OR ONE DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!

I thought it would calm my fears to go to the gym tonight but then I forgot my shoes at home. I suppose I can't go work on the elliptical in my leopard print heels, hey?

Firey Death by Gym

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Yep. That about sums it up.

I was on the eliptical for a excrutiating 30 minutes and then lifted some weights. I expect that I will be sore tomorrow which will make me even more irritated about the gym. This morning I weighed in at 245. I'm a little worried that now that I've changed it up...the weight loss is going to stop. You know how it is, past predicts how you react to the future. Usually what happens is I work out and I don't lose weight...but I'm sure it's because I would always eat more. You have that internal monologue that says because I'm working out I can eat more.
(Side note: I just need to say that something fricken STINKS in my house. I thinnk it might be this protein shake that has been sitting here for a week)
Anyways, as nervous as I am that now my weight loss is going to stall, I'm excited about the possibility of the band helping with that. I still almost never get hungry, so I was not ravished when I came home from working out tonight.
High hopes people, high hopes.

I still hate working out. And I'm pretty sure the devil created gyms. My guess would be hell is entirely made up of treadmills. Just sayin.

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.