Blah blah blah...

Well, it's a blah day.  In fact, it's been a blah week.  Guess what overweight people do when they feel blah?  Yeah.  And I've really been struggling.  My surgery has not ended up as restrictive as I'd hoped for.  I knew before surgery that I needed a really tight leash to rein myself in.  If I didn't, I wouldn't have needed the surgery.  Frankly, if I could throw on a choke collar right now I would.

Don't get me wrong, I am restricted, but it isn't enough.  I can eat around it (in that I don't dump, and I don't throw up), and I don't want to do that.  About 80-85% percent of the time I follow the rules and do what I'm supposed to, otherwise I wouldn't be where I am now, 155 pounds lighter.  But 15-20% I take the leeway, and it goes from being "wiggle room" (which my doctor says should be 5-10%) to a big problem.

So I need to ask myself some questions:
1.  What's bothering me?  Why am I turning to the food?
2.  Why am I sabotaging my own success?  Am I content with where I am now?  Am I afraid to get smaller?
3.  Is this a clinical depression, or am I just struggling like normal people do?  (Full disclosure: I stopped taking anti-depressants after surgery with my doctor's approval.  I do not play when it comes to this stuff.)
4.  Is it hormonal?  If so, should I change my birth control to see if it helps or should I just be prepared for this every 4 weeks?
5.  Is it that I haven't been working out as much?  I know that working out really does improve my mood, so if that's the issue I just need to refocus my time and energy.

If you have half a brain (and I know you do), you probably came to the same conclusion I did after reading this.  I need to journal EVERYTHING--food, mood, and exercise--so I can get to the bottom of what is going on.

Have I mentioned here before how much I hate that?  If not, let me explain.  I hate it with a purple passion.  I hate it like "Sarah Palin in 2012."  I hate it like being stuck in a cave with canned green beans as my only option for survival.  I hate it like I hate having to tell 300+ people that they no longer have a job...you probably get the picture.

Unfortunately, I think it's really my only option if I'm going to figure this out and be successful in the long run.  It's time to put on my big girl panties and get my journal on.  Please feel free to send me any hints, tips, or suggestions on how do make this less painful...

Well, crap.

So it's good news, bad news time again.

Good news, I went to my surgeon today for the one-year followup appointment, and I apparently am a weight loss rockstar.  I'm right on track, and he said I should aim for 10 more pounds in the next 3 months.  He was thrilled that I'm off my cPAP machine, that I don't have back pain, and that my triglicerides are down almost 200 points.  He also said I looked great, that he wanted me to be on his patient lecturer panel again, and then he gave me a hug.

Bad news?  His scale said that I was 201.something (I momentarily blacked out after reading 201).  Son of a preacher-man!  What the nut!  And other weird phrases I often use to substitute for actual cursing.

Yes, I know.  It's just a number.  But it's such a LARGE number (not really, this is the overly-dramatic face of the Babe), and I really wanted to be under 200.  Yes, with all my clothes on, having ate breakfast, drank 4 glasses of water, and having not pooped for two days.  Is that too much info?

Hey--fun tidbit!  I weighed myself last week first thing in the morning before I peed and then again after.  Know what?  I lost 1 whole pound just by peeing!  Is it too much info NOW?

So yeah, everything I said about numbers not mattering, and weight is really about how you feel and not the actual number?  All lies!  (again, this may be my overly-dramatic self taking over).

Sigh.  I think I need a 1-week break from weighing in, just to clear my head and remind myself that in the overall scheme of things, IT DOES NOT MATTER.  Anyone else with me on this?  Tell me in your comments...

P.S.  So's that I can end on good news, this does mean that my evil scale truly is evil, since it told me I was 202.something first thing this morning--before drinking, or having breakfast, or putting on my clothes.  My suspicions are confirmed!

The Babe is in One-derland (officially)

OK everyone, keep your socks on.  Friday morning I weighed myself on the evil scale, ie. the one that reads several pounds heavy, and it was officially under 200 lbs.  The last time I was under 200 lbs. was 1995.  Course, the next day I weighed myself again (mostly because I enjoy torturing myself in the morning) and it was back to 200.2.  But screw that.  I'm saying under 200 officially.


I did expect for confetti and balloons to start dropping from my ceiling, like they do on gameshows when someone wins the big prize.  Guess what?  It didn't happen.  In fact, my whole day went on just like there was not a momentously small number on my scale. 


This leads me to two conclusions I thought I would share.  One:  somebody, somewhere, owes me some confetti.  Two:  IT REALLY IS JUST A NUMBER.  What the nut?  It didn't make a choir of angels sing.  No one said, "Wow, you look like you are under 200 lbs!  How does it feel?"  My clothes didn't suddenly fall off my body.  I didn't find a queue of hot men outside my front door waiting and wondering "Where the skinny Babe at?" The Wii still yells, "That's Obese" at me in an insane helium mocking tone.


And, frankly, I am still obese.  Strangers just meeting me think that I'm chubby.  I can't go to a fitness store and find workout clothes in my size (Damn you, Title 9!  You just HAD to stop at a size 16 and couldn't go one more size?).  My doctor wants me to get "into the 150's", and that is 40lbs away.


But I still had a mini-in-my-head celebration.  A moment of satisfaction.  A self-congratulatory pat on the back (where I now have shoulderblades).  All the while reminding myself that I am not doing this for the numbers, but doing it for ME.

Gastric Bypass "surgiversary" is almost here.

Yup.  This Friday will be one year since I had the Roux-en-Y gastric bypass at Rose Medical Center with Dr. Michael Snyder.

It's an exciting date, but one filled with mixed emotions.  Excitement, anxiety, happiness, sadness--you name it, I've got it.

My goal was to reach the 100's mark (known in the bariatric community as "one-derland") by the one-year mark.  According to my Wii Fit scale, I'm in the right area, fluctuating between 198 and 202. According to my other scale I haven't, saying I'm fluctuating between 202 and 206.  My other scale can suck my big toe. Either way, I think I'm in the right place, even if it's not quite exact.

The hitch in my giddyup to congratulate myself, however, is all because I made the mistake of reading an article that stated bariatric patients will have lost 80% of their excess weight within the first year.  According to my doctor, I was about 200 lbs in excess of my ideal weight.  80% of that (hey, math!) is 160 lbs.  160.  Not the 150-and-change that I've lost.    It shouldn't be such a big deal right?  I'm close, right? 

Here's the thing.  I started out as a rock-star, losing almost 100 pounds in the first 4-5 months after surgery.  I was a weight-losing wunderkind.  Then things started to slow down, considerably.  It's taken me 7-8 months to lose the next 50 pounds, so I'm no longer at rock-star status.  To go from rock-star to not-even-quite average is hitting me hard. 

I guess the light at the end of the obsession tunnel is that it is a good reality check for me.  I've started to recognize that I've let myself wander off the path of what I'm supposed to be doing far too often.  I eat sugar occasionally.  I let myself have carbs.  I choose the protein bar that tastes better (which for protein bars meas that they taste less ass-like) instead of the protein bar with the least carbs/sugar and highest protein.   I often justify it with "I want to have a life and not let the weight loss prevent me from having things I love."  Which is good when it's once a week because it keeps me balanced and lets me enjoy life.  More than once a week, though, and it truly is the old fat me just trying to justify having whatever I want, whenever I want it.  The fact that I'm not losing at a decent pace is a sign that I'm living in "Babe-land" instead of reality again.

So here's the thing.  I have to remind myself that I have limitations--ones I chose to put upon myself so I can lose weight and live a real life.  I have to remind myself that the old food-addict is still there, ready to come out, and that I'm not done with making changes to my brain.  That the next year is going to be harder, but that this past year has helped me train for the struggles ahead. 

In thinking all of this through today, it made me realize that I need to mark this occasion with a congratulations for what I HAVE acheived (even if it's not perfect).  I particularly want to make it a day of gratitude for what I have, that I was given the chance to make these changes, and for the people in my life who have been so supportive (and who I will probably need over the next year to continue to support me).  So decided to have a little party in my own honor--nothing big except a dinner out (to somewhere with a delicious buffalo-style grilled chicken breast that I've been obsessed with lately), a sugar-free dessert (that I'm making), and some fun activities (bowling, karaoke, or Wii Dance Party--the decision is still up in the air).  

Of course there are lots of people long-distance I would love to include--all my readers here included--but instead I will just send and post pictures here.  Consider yourselves on the inside, because just having regular followers and reading your comments has been a major source of support for me.  Thank you all!

1st day of the new year!

The new year is bringing me a gift--that of a reality check.  If you've read any of my blog, you'll know that reality and I have a somewhat spotty relationship.  I much prefer the imaginary Babe-land that I retreat to from time to time, a land where carbs have no consequences; a land where I can eat all I want, never exercise, and not gain any weight; a land where I have men lined up around the block to date me, fabulously high-paying jobs, a party every night, etc. etc.  So yeah, it ain't real.

Here's the reality.  I have a cold, so I wasn't able to go to the one party I was invited to for New Years.  And I love parties.  And New Years.  Huge Bummer.  And when I'm sick the idea of protein makes me queasy, nor is exercise all that feasible.  Also a Bummer.  Then this morning I woke up with a carb-bloat so bad that my eyes were nearly swollen to slits, and I'm up to about 209 lbs.  Biggest Bummer of them All.  With all of that, my Babe-ness crawled out of Babe-land and announced, "Self, it is time for reality."

And that's the point of the blog anyway...to make my experiences real and concrete enough to exist in the spoken word on an actual page, with actual people seeing it.  Without that check-in, I could retreat back into Babe-land, where I once weighed 350+ lbs and was too miserable to go out into the world.  Reality is harsh, but it is real and can be relied upon to always be truthful.  Retreat too far into imagination and you never really know what's what.

Reality is bitch-slapping me in the face and telling me to make a damn plan already.  So, here is the plan:
1.  Checking in online 2-3xs per week (so far, check!)
2.  Food diary.  I truly TRULY hate this step, but I know that it is the best way to stay real about what I'm eating and how it's affecting my mood and my weight.  I'm taking inspiration from blogger TinaM, who records her food almost religiously.
3-4.  Make plans and stay busy (I know that it's 2 things--just consider this a combo-plate).  My family did a wonderful job of listening to me and got me things to use, instead of just stuff.  I got a gift of weekly Pilates from my parents, my brother and sister-in-law got me classes at a local cooking school (for a knife skills class--be very afraid!), and I have 3 Groupons that I bought--yoga classes, knitting classes, and Zumba classes.  I just have to figure out how to schedule it all, and I know it sounds overwhelming, but I need to have plans and I need to stay busy.  Otherwise I end up as a lump on the sofa, eating as many carb-tastic things as I can.
5.  Find a better way to plan and eat meals.  There are way too many good sites with recipes for post-surgery folks (and those that otherwise need healthy meals), and I need to utilize them.  Maybe I'll blog for a week of Cooking Adventures.  Especially once I've gotten in my knife skills class!

I can think of a lot more things that I should be doing, but frankly I can only concentrate on so many things at one time (the gift of ADD--just keeps on giving and....wait, what was I talking about?).

What is your New Year's Plan?  (I just can't bring myself to say resolution, since the resolution ship sailed on the day I decided to have surgery).  Tell me in the comments what you're looking forward to or planning for 2011....

Mauna Loa's got to go-ah

Ever wondered why macadamia nuts are sold in the smallest can on the nut shelf?  I always thought it was the price.  It is not.

I made the mistake of going to COSTCO (never a smart thing for someone who can eat 1/4 c. of food), and I browsed (mistake number 2).  I did find, but did not buy, an awesome Michael Kors pea coat, and the XL just about fit...yeah!  If it's still there in a couple months I will buy it!  Then I found, and bought, a ginormous can of Mauna Loa macadamia nuts.  Hey, I've had them since surgery, and they tasted really good, so why not?

I can now tell you why.  Those tricky little Hawaiian nuggets of goodness would not let me stop at one.  Or at 4.  Or at fourteen.  Next thing I knew, I was bloated with Mauna Loa Madness and really mad at myself.  I very nearly threw up.  If I'd swallowed so much as a mouthful of air or saliva I would have lost the whole caboodle.  It was not pretty.

Instead of learning from my mistake, today I thought, "I really should get ahold of that macadamia nut craving and slow down and eat a couple and really savor them."  That lovely thought turned into a slobbering, gulping food fest and now I feel really icky.  I feel even worse now because I saw how many grams of fat are in these.  YIKES.

This is a great example of how the surgery works on our bodies, but not our minds.  I'm really doing some intensive work on my relationship with food and how to find some peace with it, instead of letting it rule my life like before.  I am really afraid that if I don't get a handle on this that I will end up gaining all my weight back, and it's terrifying.  So I'm going to a class on emotional eating sponsored by my surgeon and am thinking of trying individual sessions with the instructor.  If the Great Macadamia Munch of 2010 shows me anything, it is that I can't do it alone.

On the up side, I weighed myself this morning and was down to 217.  Finally.  It took only 4 months to lose the first 100lbs, and it's taken me 4.5 months to lose another 32.  And I went without a loss for the entire month of September.  I'm hoping this recent loss means that I'm starting on a new downward trend.   In order to continue this, though, I'm fairly sure it will mean saying Aloha to the Macadamia Nut Devil.

It puts the lotion on its skin...

Creepy (but so funny out of context).

I just wanted to answer Miss Tina M, who asked about lotions.  If you go to Sephora, or Nordstrom, or Ulta, or any other place that sells lotions and potions (and I do love them so...but that is for another day), they will tell you that lotions will help with sagging skin.  They say it increases circulation and diminishes cellulite, and that it does just about everything for you except wash your dishes and give you an orgasm (well, unless you are using the lotion in a VERY different way).  They will sing promises and dance dances of mighty lotions that will turn you into a slender, gazelle-like creature with big boobs, big eyes, a round bum, and a flat tummy. 

*They LIE.*  That's right, like sleeping dogs, like a braided rug, like Tiger Woods in front of a microphone.  You can pretty much bet that if it's on the back of the tube, or in a glossy ad featuring an already-thin woman, that it is not entirely true.

What you can do is maximize what you have.  Stay out of the sun, drink lots of water, eliminate caffeine (in beverages only, however, because studies have shown that lotion with caffeine has a slight, and temporary, tightening effect).  Get a faux tan, because it will make stretch marks and wrinkly skin less apparent.  Work out regularly and build your muscles to help fill out the skin a bit.  Exfoliate to increase your circulation, and indulge on a massage occasionally for the same reason.  Hydrated skin is healthy skin, so use moisturizer liberally.

But stay realistic.  While all of these things will help slightly, they won't fix the shriveled balloon appearance of someone whose lost the equivalent of an Olson twin.  Your skin has only so much elasticity, and can only recover so much.  If I had stopped losing at 90 lbs, I would have no problems at all.  It was at about 115 lbs that I really started noticing it.  And I have REALLY good skin.  I've seen some people lose half of what I have that are as withered as a raisin.  What you end up with is a product of genetics, how much weight you had to lose, how quickly you lose it, and how badly stretched your skin was to start with.

I suggest getting yourself a drug-store brand (Nivea, Aveeno and Neutrogena are consistently rated highly) that won't break the bank, and slather it on.  It won't hurt you, and if you are losing less than 100 lbs it may be enough.  Otherwise, save your pennies for a good, experienced plastic surgeon and vow to donate the skin that's removed to burn victims (yeah, you really can do that!).  And maybe by the time I lose all my extra weight they'll use my extra skin to create a new Olsen twin triplet. 

The skin after the thin...

Okay, it clearly has been far too long since I posted anything.  Let's get up to speed, shall we?

I've been insanely busy lately.  I know people always say that, but I really have.  It's amazing how much you can do when you can, you know, actually DO stuff.  So I went to Colorado Springs for a weekend for a post-bariatric seminar, I almost went to the local renaissance festival (temps of over 100 degrees scared me into seeing the next Twilight movie, which cooled me off but made me feel like an old pervy lady going to see tween boys without their shirts), I've been to several farmers markets, went antiquing, a gardening show, and even to the gym a couple of times (dude, I even tried Pilates, which I loved!).  Whew.  I'm exhausted just reading the list.

Here's the long and short of it, my 6-month check up is this Thursday, and I'm down about 125 lbs.  My triglicerides went down about 100 points but my cholesterol went up a bit (still in the normal range, but much higher than before), my hormones are all over the place (reference old pervy lady comment above), and because I get a period for 3 out of 4 weeks in the month I'm slightly anemic.  Otherwise, doing well--all things considered.

So, Miss TinaM wants to know the question of the hour--what about all the skin?  Actually, I get asked this more than any other question, so apparenlty inquiring minds want to know.

I have good, thick, German skin.  Pasty as all get-out, and every scar hangs out as a red mark for at least a year, but it heals good.  No keloids, no pitting, and FAST healing.  Oh, the skin cancer scares aside (and I've had a few--before I even turned 30), I got good skin.  So even though I've lost an Olson twin in less than 6 months, I have a lot less of the droopy, withered bits that almost everyone who has had successful weight loss surgery gets.  Yea me!

I do have some weirdness.  There is a slightly deflated-balloon appearance to my lower abdomen.  And some weird dangly bits that weren't there before.  But all told, it isn't too bad.  How do I know this?

At the aforementioned post-surgical seminar I went to in Colorado Springs there were several different lectures on post-op life, including a segment done by a plastic surgeon.  I learned several very important things:
1.  Ya gotta WARN people before you start flashing up enormous slides of naked people, whether or not they are post-op.  I looked at my brochure to catch the Dr.'s name, and when I looked up I got smacked in the eyeballs with ENORMOUS NEKKED BOOBS.  Not that there is anything wrong with enormous nekked boobs (in fact, I am a proud owner of a pair).  It's just that after a very tame discussion of converting recipes to weight-loss friendly foods I was not prepared.  I'm telling you, it's weird to have the black "censored" box over a FACE and not the boobular area or the naughty bits.  Honestly, a person should have a warning that this is about to occur so that said person does not almost spray the person in front of her with half-chewed protein bar.
2.  Ya also gotta WARN people that it is an actual plastic surgeon who will be discussing the horrifying details of what they do to people when they are passed out naked on the table.  Remember the Seinfeld episode with "The Assman", and how proctologists always have the best stories?  Yea, plastic surgeons are so freakkin' close.  As in, "You should have seen the size of the skin flap I took here.  It took three of us, pulling and stretching so tight (insert pantomine of wrasslin' and pullin') that we had to start the sutures with superglue."  Poor black-box-faced lady.  It's better she doesn't know.
3.  When standing in a room of post-ops from bariatric surgery, it's easy to spot the people who have had the skin removal/tummy tuck/neck lift/etc.  They are the only people in the room who look proportional.  Everyone else looks like a normal person from the waist up, and then a tire worn around the waist, and then normal legs.  You see, it's not just me--everybody's like that.  Until they get with a surgeon who evens them all out.

All things told, I'd like to have surgery on my midsection at some point.  Half the point of this whole process is to be "normal" and proportional--I'd hate to lose nearly 200 lbs (my ultimate goal) and still look like I'm smuggling waist-level bags of whatever people are smuggling these days.  But I'm only 6 months out and hoping to lose another 60+ lbs before I can even go there.  So I can say, loudly and proudly, that my shar-pei belly is here, it's weird, get used to it.  For now, anyway.  We'll see where the poochy goes in a year or so...

Pictures, huh?

The masses demand pictures!  If only the masses could come by my house and figure out how the (*#&^# to use my stupid camera.  I tried to use the camera built into the computer, but it doesn't get the whole effect.  :-(  So until my cat gets opposable thumbs, or until someone with opposable thumbs comes to visit me, you'll have to wait for updated (post-100 lb. loss) pictures. 

Never let it be said that The Babe ignores the lovely people that are nice enough to post to her.  Now you can scroll to the bottom of the blog to see my freshly posted "before" pictures. I wouldn't even have before pictures if my mom didn't talk me (read, force me) into letting her take them.  And now it's really hard to see those old pictures.  In my head, I never weighed as much as I did.  I wouldn't look in the mirror, I did my best not to move so that I wouldn't feel how ungainly I'd gotten.  But those pictures make it really real, and I don't like reality all that much.  Bariatric Babe-land is so much prettier.

But, as my therapist says, "reality is your friend."  A friend I would like to tell to 'suck it' sometimes.  Especially on days when I feel really awful, or look too bald, or feel too lonely.  On those days, reality does not feel like a friend.

But as I tell all my employees that bitch about stupid stuff like, "Why can't we wear capris?" or "Do we really have to evacuate when the fire alarm goes off?"--it is what it is, people.  Damn.  I hate it when Sensible Me is right.

As soon as a friend with thumbs comes to visit, I will get a current picture posted too.  And when I look at my photos and see my thinning hair, my lumpy belly that looks like it lost a knife-fight, or how pretty my eyes are now that they aren't so small in my head, I will think, "It is what it is."  And that's the best it can be...