I haven't been an overly fat fatty most of my life. It was only within the last 8-10 years that I really started putting on the weight. And since I have lived in the same town for my entire 36 years, that's really not that long of a time to be heavy. I've always been big, mind you, but not grossly overweight like I was before having the DS.
So basically I have gotten back to being the same size woman that The Husband married. I'm almost the same size I was in high school. How righteous is that?
Anyway, the change in size hasn't been all that big of a problem for people that have literally known me all my life. To them, it's just the old Sarah back again. Different hair color, yeah, but the same ol' gel that I always have been.
The Husband and I have been married for 13 years. He has worked at his current jobsite for 14 years. So the vast majority of his co-workers have known me for that long and have seen me go up and now back down in size. No big deal. But those who have only known The Husband in the last four or five years have only ever known me big. This set us up for what went down on Monday.
Monday was the jobsite's 40th anniversary celebration. Spouses weren't invited, but former workers of the jobsite were and they were allowed to invite a guest. The Husband was desperate for me to come out to the celebration, so we hit up an ex-roommate of ours who used to work there to bring me along as his guest. Sweet! I was one of the few spouses that attended, but I was actually working the celebration helping The Husband with the food and whatnot so it's not like I was just out there for giggles and grins.
Anyway, one of the guys out there we've known for years. He's a flirty thing, and has been open with his appreciation as I've been losing the weight. Heck, he's been appreciative of me no matter what my size. It's okay with The Husband because the guy has a hot-as-hell wife who is also great friends with us and it's just this guy's personality. He's appreciative of feminine beauty and lets it be known. At one point during the day, he crept up and whispered loudly in my ear so that The Husband could hear it as well, "Damn, I don't know how much you've lost so far, but let me tell you it's fucking H-O-T!" We both just grinned. It was great. I don't like a lot of attention being thrown on my weight loss in public, but this friend of ours is just so engaging, you can't help but giggle like a schoolgirl when he does something like this.
The day wound to a close and I left with our former roommate to go back to my normal work. I was introduced to so many people, my head was spinning. Some I knew by name only, others were old co-workers. A good time was had by all. I even got to introduce The Husband to the mother of one of my ex-boyfriends. That's a story for later, though. Hee!
When The Husband got home that evening, he had a dazed look on his face. This was partly because he was standing around all day with an injured ankle (he had rolled it the night previously and was why I was helping out at the celebration), and partly because of things that happened after I left.
The Husband: "Did you know that I'm having an affair on you?"
Me: "Whaaaat? The hell?!?"
The Husband: "Yes. I'm having affair on you. Or so say some of my co-workers who came to verbally beat me up after you left. They were quite angry with me. One might say royally pissed off. They wanted to know who my new companion was."
Me: *dissolves into giggles in a pool on the floor*
This, my friends, is possibly the best thing to happen since surgery. I thoroughly intend to take it as a compliment. I don't care if it was my change in haircolor or the change back to who I used to be. It's all good in my book.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Never, ever underestimate the power of Three
Especially when the three in question happen to be The Husband, The Mother and The Surgeon.
As I notated here previously, I have had an unpleasant visitor upon my body. One who at the drop of a hat can make my day miserable. But do I want to get rid of this foul beast, the one whom I call Fred? Well, not really because that would mean more surgery and I'm just iffy enough about more surgery until I have plastics.
Evidently, The Husband has gotten sick and tired (And Tired always follows Sick) of my bitching about Fred and wants something done about him. Preferably involving getting him to go away. Permanantly. And during a conversation a week ago Sunday with The Mother about her taking Thing One and Thing Two for the next week, The Husband happened to make noises to her that he was unpleased with my decision to keep on keeping on Fred and so thusly I got an earful from her. Something about my being an utter loon and shouldn't I know better with our family history of cysts, blah, blah, blah. Right.
So, being attacked in both the right ear (The Husband) and the left ear (The Mother) I gave in and said that yes, I would make the necessary appointments to see about removing Fred forever from my body and condemning him to wherever it is they send bodily waste, preferably next to the majority of my stomach that's in its little Ziploc baggie somewhere.
The trifecta came when during last Wednesday's visit with The Surgeon for my year follow up that hrm, maybe my wonky iron levels and hrm, perhaps my funky periods might, JUST MIGHT, MIND YOU, have something to do with Fred. Which means that yes, he must be gotten rid of post-haste thank you very much. Oh, and please start taking some iron pills already so you don't get anemic because the numbers if they continue their trend will lead to that destination. The Husband thought that The Surgeon wanted to slap me silly. It was very amusing.
I gave my usual grumble about how I had been wanting to wait to get rid of Fred until plastics, and The Surgeon said, "Well, why didn't you say so! We can take care of it all at once. After all, you really are at a good weight for it at this point." And the next thing I know, I'm being drawn upon with a black sharpie, pictures are taken, and an appointment made for the OB/GYN the next floor down to assess me is made.
Whew! Talk about a whirlwind!
In reality, this would be the best of all worlds. Get rid of Fred and possibly other parts of my female anatomy that I really have no more use for anymore, and thus have insurance pay for some things leaving us only to pay The Surgeon his fees for reconstruction. And maybe insurance will help pay there as well. Stranger things have occurred! And possibly slip in some boobies and do the arms as well.
Again. Talk about a whirlwind! I'm barely over a year out, and we're already talking plastics. Guess I've done good even and lost the weight in the right places even though I'm barely under 200 pounds. I didn't think we were going to be doing this for at least another year. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
So Thursday I have an appointment with the OB/GYN in Delano and I have all my medical records about Fred ready to present for his opinion about The Trouble With Fred. He and The Surgeon have worked together many, many times in the past, so this would be old hat to the both of them. Plus I've seen The Surgeon's work when it comes to plastics, and for someone who didn't specialize in them, he does a damn fine job IMO. And the stuff that I've seen is on some of the first ones that he did them on. The man has only gotten better as time goes on.
Thursday will begin the plot for the demise of Fred (definite), the removal of skin (highly probable) and the lifting of some sad things sagging (probable). Not too bad, eh?
As I notated here previously, I have had an unpleasant visitor upon my body. One who at the drop of a hat can make my day miserable. But do I want to get rid of this foul beast, the one whom I call Fred? Well, not really because that would mean more surgery and I'm just iffy enough about more surgery until I have plastics.
Evidently, The Husband has gotten sick and tired (And Tired always follows Sick) of my bitching about Fred and wants something done about him. Preferably involving getting him to go away. Permanantly. And during a conversation a week ago Sunday with The Mother about her taking Thing One and Thing Two for the next week, The Husband happened to make noises to her that he was unpleased with my decision to keep on keeping on Fred and so thusly I got an earful from her. Something about my being an utter loon and shouldn't I know better with our family history of cysts, blah, blah, blah. Right.
So, being attacked in both the right ear (The Husband) and the left ear (The Mother) I gave in and said that yes, I would make the necessary appointments to see about removing Fred forever from my body and condemning him to wherever it is they send bodily waste, preferably next to the majority of my stomach that's in its little Ziploc baggie somewhere.
The trifecta came when during last Wednesday's visit with The Surgeon for my year follow up that hrm, maybe my wonky iron levels and hrm, perhaps my funky periods might, JUST MIGHT, MIND YOU, have something to do with Fred. Which means that yes, he must be gotten rid of post-haste thank you very much. Oh, and please start taking some iron pills already so you don't get anemic because the numbers if they continue their trend will lead to that destination. The Husband thought that The Surgeon wanted to slap me silly. It was very amusing.
I gave my usual grumble about how I had been wanting to wait to get rid of Fred until plastics, and The Surgeon said, "Well, why didn't you say so! We can take care of it all at once. After all, you really are at a good weight for it at this point." And the next thing I know, I'm being drawn upon with a black sharpie, pictures are taken, and an appointment made for the OB/GYN the next floor down to assess me is made.
Whew! Talk about a whirlwind!
In reality, this would be the best of all worlds. Get rid of Fred and possibly other parts of my female anatomy that I really have no more use for anymore, and thus have insurance pay for some things leaving us only to pay The Surgeon his fees for reconstruction. And maybe insurance will help pay there as well. Stranger things have occurred! And possibly slip in some boobies and do the arms as well.
Again. Talk about a whirlwind! I'm barely over a year out, and we're already talking plastics. Guess I've done good even and lost the weight in the right places even though I'm barely under 200 pounds. I didn't think we were going to be doing this for at least another year. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
So Thursday I have an appointment with the OB/GYN in Delano and I have all my medical records about Fred ready to present for his opinion about The Trouble With Fred. He and The Surgeon have worked together many, many times in the past, so this would be old hat to the both of them. Plus I've seen The Surgeon's work when it comes to plastics, and for someone who didn't specialize in them, he does a damn fine job IMO. And the stuff that I've seen is on some of the first ones that he did them on. The man has only gotten better as time goes on.
Thursday will begin the plot for the demise of Fred (definite), the removal of skin (highly probable) and the lifting of some sad things sagging (probable). Not too bad, eh?
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Actually, I do love the news some days
From the Associated Press:
KETTERING, Ohio — Romeo slays Tybalt for killing his friend, Mercutio.
Ah, Shakespeare.
Police in this Dayton suburb responded to a report of a swordfight in a public park Tuesday night. They found actors rehearsing a scene from "Romeo and Juliet."
"Nobody was hurt, except for us from laughing so hard once we figured out why the police, an ambulance and a fire truck pulled up with sirens flashing," said Dawn Roth-Smith, co-directer of the outdoor production by Playhouse South that opens Saturday.
"Somebody driving by must have seen our rehearsal but missed the big green sign we have up for our play," Roth-Smith said. "I apologized to the officer for bringing them out for no reason. He told me I should tell my actors they're doing a great job."
Beware reports of witches in the park when the same group rehearses "Macbeth" next summer.
KETTERING, Ohio — Romeo slays Tybalt for killing his friend, Mercutio.
Ah, Shakespeare.
Police in this Dayton suburb responded to a report of a swordfight in a public park Tuesday night. They found actors rehearsing a scene from "Romeo and Juliet."
"Nobody was hurt, except for us from laughing so hard once we figured out why the police, an ambulance and a fire truck pulled up with sirens flashing," said Dawn Roth-Smith, co-directer of the outdoor production by Playhouse South that opens Saturday.
"Somebody driving by must have seen our rehearsal but missed the big green sign we have up for our play," Roth-Smith said. "I apologized to the officer for bringing them out for no reason. He told me I should tell my actors they're doing a great job."
Beware reports of witches in the park when the same group rehearses "Macbeth" next summer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
