Remember when you were in school and your stomach would start to growl? And how you would get all mortified and embarrassed, with people laughing?
Yea. That's what the Gurgully Wergullys are. And I got em. BAD. I guess it's normal after weight loss surgery, so I've been pretty nonchalant about it. Until I scared the cat right off my lap. It's THAT LOUD.
Yipes.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Wow! I RULE!
Tomorrow is my 4-week surgiversary, so naturally I had my 3-week nutrition class.* Now prepare yourself for me to gloat on how awesome I am:
1. I have lost almost 50 lbs since my pre-op appointment. That's right. "The Biggest Loser" can cover THAT in syrup and shove it down their pie-holes!** The week of ice-chips and the Valentine's Day ER trip for a stricture may have something to do with the fact that I lost more weight than anyone else in the class--including the men. But I'm takin' credit for it!
2. Even though I feel as thought I don't know what I'm doing post-surgery, I knew way more than anyone else in the nutrition class (except, of course, the nutritionist). I knew all the answers to the questions she asked us, and I knew most of the answers to the questions that the other patient's asked. I even was able to give tips on how to make a hot protein shake (like a cappucino or hot chocolate) without having it get gritty (hint: it involves making a slurry). I guess I'm getting better at this than I realized.
3. I parked far away from the office and walked there, without my supplemental oxygen. By myself. Uphill. In snow (well, melted snow, but you get the idea).
4. I had plans to go shopping after the class, but I had already drank all the water I had brought and I hadn't had protein in about 3 hours. So I had to decide: go shopping and pay for it later because I'm dehydrated and hungy? or do what I should and go home and take care of myself. Now, if you knew me before, you would know that I would jump on that shopping trip like Kathy Griffin on a Gay Pride float.*** I would have paid for it later by being really sick, but I've always been more about fun than consequences. This time, however, I made the smart decision and actually went home to take care of myself.
5. I decided my reward for all the proceeding fabulousness was to use my Borders gift card from Christmas and blow all $25 on an array of useless but beautiful magazines (which I love!). I didn't even consider a food reward (which has always been my go-to). So I'm heading out there later this evening.
Folks, in our society, we are very rarely allowed to toot our own horns. I know that women especially are taught not to brag because it is unlady-like. And I generally feel like I should keep my big mouth shut because of these unwritten rules. But I have to say that it feels really good to have things going well at this point. So here I am unashamedly (yet metaphorically) leaning my head out the window and yelling "TOOT TOOT" at the top of my lungs.
Go me!
*Math portions of this post brought to you by the letter C, as in the grade I got in math class in 7th grade.
**Writer of this blog does not espouse any sort of forced or involuntary pie-hole-shoving, whether or not it is covered in syrup.
***...not that there's anything wrong with that. I love me some Kathy Griffin. And Gay Pride. Please don't be offended by my similes.
Monday, February 15, 2010
(Insert Olympic theme song here)
Dum, dum, da dum dum de dum
Dum dum da dum, dum dum dum dadeda da dum...
Yes, that is exactly right. It's OLYMPIC time again.
I love the olympics. I don't know if it's the pagentry, the song, the competition, or the NBC "showcase" of the high-ranking atheletes, but that song gets me going.
So, of course, I start thinking about how I'm in my own, Weight Loss Olympics. I can't decide if having the surgery is akin to taking steroids or if it's more like getting to train at high altitude, but regardless of how I'm getting my "leg up" on the competition, it's still a long grueling road. I hope I get a shiny medal at the end.
And I think I'm focusing a little like an Olympic athlete has to--focus on what you have to do today, but keep your eye on the goal at the end. For me, I'm tracking all my protein, water, and vitamins on a daily basis and just trying to make the mark. But I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this to affect how I'm going to feel 6 months or 6 years from now--healthy and happy.
Maybe I'll even take up skiing.
Dum dum da dum, dum dum dum dadeda da dum...
Yes, that is exactly right. It's OLYMPIC time again.
I love the olympics. I don't know if it's the pagentry, the song, the competition, or the NBC "showcase" of the high-ranking atheletes, but that song gets me going.
So, of course, I start thinking about how I'm in my own, Weight Loss Olympics. I can't decide if having the surgery is akin to taking steroids or if it's more like getting to train at high altitude, but regardless of how I'm getting my "leg up" on the competition, it's still a long grueling road. I hope I get a shiny medal at the end.
And I think I'm focusing a little like an Olympic athlete has to--focus on what you have to do today, but keep your eye on the goal at the end. For me, I'm tracking all my protein, water, and vitamins on a daily basis and just trying to make the mark. But I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this to affect how I'm going to feel 6 months or 6 years from now--healthy and happy.
Maybe I'll even take up skiing.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Bad Pouchie! No! No!
My Pouchie is supposed to be my best friend when it comes to weight loss and better health. My Pouchie is trying to betray me.
Apparently I have a stomach stricture, and get to have an outpatient hospital visit tomorrow to get Pouchie loosened up enough to let things through. This is the same issue I had in the hospital, and when I called my surgeon this afternoon to find out if it was a problem that my stomach wouldn't empty his replay was, "Yeah, I'm not surprised." (??!!) I guess he and Pouchie met during the surgery and he could tell that she didn't like to share her bounty with my intestines (no, they don't have a cute name yet).
Oh, and I also have a string coming out. That's right. Not a stitch. A STRING. Like a piece of twine. Poking out of one of the holes in my belly. Even worse, it's healed into my skin so I now have a perma-string sticking out of me. I guess I can consider it an adornment, and dye or fringe it for special occasions. But damn! First Pouchie betrays me by acting up, and now I have Stringy entering into the mix. I will never be lonely now.
Creepy, right? Ya, that's how I feel. And it's all IN MY BELLY.
I think I should take some oxycodone and call it a night.
Apparently I have a stomach stricture, and get to have an outpatient hospital visit tomorrow to get Pouchie loosened up enough to let things through. This is the same issue I had in the hospital, and when I called my surgeon this afternoon to find out if it was a problem that my stomach wouldn't empty his replay was, "Yeah, I'm not surprised." (??!!) I guess he and Pouchie met during the surgery and he could tell that she didn't like to share her bounty with my intestines (no, they don't have a cute name yet).
Oh, and I also have a string coming out. That's right. Not a stitch. A STRING. Like a piece of twine. Poking out of one of the holes in my belly. Even worse, it's healed into my skin so I now have a perma-string sticking out of me. I guess I can consider it an adornment, and dye or fringe it for special occasions. But damn! First Pouchie betrays me by acting up, and now I have Stringy entering into the mix. I will never be lonely now.
Creepy, right? Ya, that's how I feel. And it's all IN MY BELLY.
I think I should take some oxycodone and call it a night.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My letter to Michelle Obama
Dear Ms. Obama:
I've heard a lot in the news about your desire to campaign against childhood obesity, and I feel compelled to tell you my personal story.
You see, I've been overweight my whole life, including the childhood years that you are most concerned about. My final straw was reaching almost 350 lbs (at 5'5"), and I had gastric bypass surgery on 1/21/10 to try and gain control over my life and reclaim my health. So I applaud your idea to ensure children have access and encouragement to eat healthy food and get more exercise.
My concern, however, rests with the idea of "eliminating childhood obesity," and the unintended repercussions of this focus. Imagine being 12 years old and overweight, bombarded with images of models who are size 2 at every turn, frustrated by not finding clothes in your size, teased and humiliated by peers and society as a whole for being fat, and now the First Lady starts a campaign focusing on obesity. Might you feel more judged and singled out? Might others be more willing to judge you harshly for your size? Might you feel more of a social stigma than you already do?
Our culture enacts a tremendous penalty on people who are overweight, and a focus on losing weight simply reinforces those penalties. It focuses on what is wrong with a child, and how to "fix it", instead of focusing on how each and every child can take control of their health regardless of their current size or shape.
Please consider re-evaluating this message. Emphasize that children should eat more healthfully, and should have positive forms of physical movement, rather than focusing on fat children. By encouraging good eating and exercise habits regardless of a child's current weight, children, their parents, educators and health care professionals can work on a positive message that doesn't create judgement or engender feelings of shame.
I wish you the best of luck, and I truly do applaud your efforts in affecting change. I only ask that you consider the emotional and psychological impact of your campaign, and that you carefully tailor your message to enact the most positive form of change.
Thank you for listening,
Audra
I've heard a lot in the news about your desire to campaign against childhood obesity, and I feel compelled to tell you my personal story.
You see, I've been overweight my whole life, including the childhood years that you are most concerned about. My final straw was reaching almost 350 lbs (at 5'5"), and I had gastric bypass surgery on 1/21/10 to try and gain control over my life and reclaim my health. So I applaud your idea to ensure children have access and encouragement to eat healthy food and get more exercise.
My concern, however, rests with the idea of "eliminating childhood obesity," and the unintended repercussions of this focus. Imagine being 12 years old and overweight, bombarded with images of models who are size 2 at every turn, frustrated by not finding clothes in your size, teased and humiliated by peers and society as a whole for being fat, and now the First Lady starts a campaign focusing on obesity. Might you feel more judged and singled out? Might others be more willing to judge you harshly for your size? Might you feel more of a social stigma than you already do?
Our culture enacts a tremendous penalty on people who are overweight, and a focus on losing weight simply reinforces those penalties. It focuses on what is wrong with a child, and how to "fix it", instead of focusing on how each and every child can take control of their health regardless of their current size or shape.
Please consider re-evaluating this message. Emphasize that children should eat more healthfully, and should have positive forms of physical movement, rather than focusing on fat children. By encouraging good eating and exercise habits regardless of a child's current weight, children, their parents, educators and health care professionals can work on a positive message that doesn't create judgement or engender feelings of shame.
I wish you the best of luck, and I truly do applaud your efforts in affecting change. I only ask that you consider the emotional and psychological impact of your campaign, and that you carefully tailor your message to enact the most positive form of change.
Thank you for listening,
Audra
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
32 lbs lost, just shy of 2 weeks out!
I still can't believe that when I type it. I've lost 32 lbs. My feet are skinny. I have a hint of a jawline. I can stand for more than 3 minutes without severe hip/back pain. I can breathe better.
I can't wait to see what other changes another 32 lbs will make!
I just hope it won't take another week of nothing but ice chips in the hospital to find out.
I can't wait to see what other changes another 32 lbs will make!
I just hope it won't take another week of nothing but ice chips in the hospital to find out.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Boy, is my stomach stubborn!
That's right, it leaps small staples in a single bound! It dances away from the surgeon's blade! It laughs in the face of an upper GI! It spews whatever nutritional entity is introduced to it! It is...Pouchie the Pain-in-the-a**!
That's right, my surgery was not the smoothest. Apparently my liver is the size of a football and I have a hernia in my belly button that needed repair (I had thought I was getting so fat that my belly button was caving under pressure). So the surgery itself was difficult. Then, when I woke up, I couldn't feel my feet. I couldn't stand, walk, stroll, wiggle my toes...nothing. Finally, the new stomach pouch (which I have christened "Pouchie") was taken in to the upper GI test, where he would not surrender the bariatric dye. That's right a blockage.
To keep it from getting too graphic (as my friend D. will lose her cookies), I was in the hospital for 8 days instead of 2.5. Yikes.
But I can tell you that I can already stand, and walk, and bend at the waist (a little, anyway). I do have to have supplemental oxygen, but they think that as my body loses fat that my lungs will get the extra room and I will be fine.
Let's see how the weekend goes...
That's right, my surgery was not the smoothest. Apparently my liver is the size of a football and I have a hernia in my belly button that needed repair (I had thought I was getting so fat that my belly button was caving under pressure). So the surgery itself was difficult. Then, when I woke up, I couldn't feel my feet. I couldn't stand, walk, stroll, wiggle my toes...nothing. Finally, the new stomach pouch (which I have christened "Pouchie") was taken in to the upper GI test, where he would not surrender the bariatric dye. That's right a blockage.
To keep it from getting too graphic (as my friend D. will lose her cookies), I was in the hospital for 8 days instead of 2.5. Yikes.
But I can tell you that I can already stand, and walk, and bend at the waist (a little, anyway). I do have to have supplemental oxygen, but they think that as my body loses fat that my lungs will get the extra room and I will be fine.
Let's see how the weekend goes...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)