One of the things that has always bewildered me about the WLS online communities is the seeming antipathy between the different "camps" for the different surgeries. Over the last few months or so, the tensions between the RNY and DS camps over on the Obesity Health boards have gotten so thick you could cut them with a knife. The words that shoot back and forth between the harpies on both sides of the fence are just out and out ridiculous, and a complete waste of time for supposed "grown-ups." And then let's not forget about the infighting on each side. It's ridiculous!
Some people are very passionate about the type of WLS that they got. I know that I am! I will sing the praises of my DS all the live-long day. But I'm also smart enough to know that people that have the other surgeries can be just as successful, if not more so that I am - and reap the same benefits. The problem for me becomes when outright wrong information - about which surgery it doesn't matter - is put forth as fact on these message boards for those initially seeking WLS and trying to find out which one fits for them. And I know that a lot of these fights that have been cropping up on the boards lately are because of wrong information being posted, as well as the whole "pay it forward" mindset of the DS community (getting the word out about a lesser-known surgery in a world dominated by the RNY), but as always happens, black and white words on a screen are taken in ways the author never intended and BLAM! Hate and discontent all over, which some people just can't let go.
Anyway, one of the ladies over on the DS board made an interesting post the other day. It really crystalized for me how the mindsets between those who get the two different surgeries are commpletely opposite yet they led us all to a common solution - having a form of weight loss surgery. I had been having issues with a blogger that I know over her very rigid and regimented approach to WLS (she had the RNY and is successful with it). I thought that she was out of her mind with her obsession over foods, never allowing any sort of temptation to fall into her path, seeing those who did as being "weak" and not "worthy" of having had WLS if they weren't going to do all that it took to make it to goal and stay there. But seeing this post by the lovely Lola really gave me peace in what is being advocated by the blogger. It's not that she's wrong. Because I already knew that if you were going to have the RNY, yes, you needed to follow that set of rules and that I knew that I did not want that for myself. The point is that she's following a different path that leads to the same goal that I have as well.
And while I may not be a completely stellar example for my surgery (my, ahem, exercise regimine leaves MUCH to be desired, thankyouverymuch), I have achieved the measure of success that I wanted for myself. I have decided to take down my weight tracker because the scale hasn't moved in at least two months - and I find that that doesn't bother me in the least. The other day, I used the special features on my scale and discovered to my delight that I am now 32% fat and 46% water. Not bad considering that my fat percentage used to be somewhere between 50-60%. Yes, I could be less "fat" but if I never do get there, I'm happy with the me that this has produced. For the first time in years, we took a family picture, and if I do say so myself, I look damn good.
Anyway, enough of my rambling. Here's what Lola posted as well as some additions that were made as well. The answers that were used for the RNY comments actually came from a conversation on the RNY board of Obesity Healthy under a post of "Why did you get an RNY" that was made recently. Please do not think that I am denegrating anyone who has had an RNY - I have several friends who have been VERY successful with their RNY and would never think badly of them for their choice. They simply chose to live with different rules and went into it with a different attitude than I did - but wanted the same goal.
Please keep in mind that obviously not all of the DS reasons apply to every DSer just like every RNY reason does not apply to every RNYer.
US vs THEM - or, Why I got My DS
RNY - I got the surgery so I'd dump and the fear of that would keep me away from sugar.
DS - I got the surgery so that I wouldn't dump.
RNY - I needed the restriction to correct my relationship with food.
DS - I didn't want the restriction because I want to enjoy my relationship with food.
RNY - I wanted/needed to change my eating habits.
DS - I've dieted my whole life -- I want to quit dieting.
RNY - I'm sick of dieting and failing.
DS - I'm sick of dieting and failing.
RNY - I want a tool that I can work.
DS - I want a surgery that does the work.
RNY - I didn't want to be able to cheat the surgery.
DS - I want to be able to 'cheat' from time to time.
RNY - I want to be healthy.
DS - I want to be healthy.
RNY - I didn't want someone cutting off my stomach.
DS - I didn't want a blind stomach.
RNY - I don't want to have to eat massive amounts of food.
DS - I want to be able to eat what I want.
RNY - I needed to change my habits.
DS - I've been trying to change my habits my whole life!
RNY - I never want to eat sugar or fat again!
DS - I don't want sugar and fat to be 'off-limits'.
RNY - I didn't want to risk that much malabsorption.
DS - I knew that I needed the added malabsorption to keep off the weight.
RNY - I took the best choice that was offered to me.
DS - I got what I wanted.
RNY - I want the convenience of a close by surgeon.
DS - I want the convenience of a one-time surgery.
RNY - My insurance would only pay for the RNY.
DS - I fought my insurance long and hard for what I wanted.
RNY - I need to not eat fat because of my high cholesterol.
DS - I need to not absorb fat because of my high cholesterol.
So similar, nay, identical in some instances, and worlds apart in others. That, my friends, is the world of weight loss surgery. So, if you're on this rollercoaster, remember that like most things in life you're going to come across differences of opinion. Doesn't make either one of you right or wrong, but it does guide you down the path you need to follow.
Enjoy the ride!
Showing posts with label Weight Loss (or not). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weight Loss (or not). Show all posts
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Halloween Foibles
Halloween. A pretty neat day by all accounts. You get to dress up and go to work in things you never would dream of at any other point in time - stuff that's left to your fantasy life.
For me, this means that I get to drag out some of my costumes that I've made either during my time with the SCA or ones that I made for various plays/operas that I participated in many, many years ago. This year, I decided to drag out my Gibson Girl ballgown I made in 1993 when I was the lead in The Merry Widow. It's blue taffeta with black trim and is beautiful. Kangaroo bodice, slim front profile skirt spilling into a gored and flared back. Gorgeous. *sigh* I would wear an outfit like this every day if I could. Corset and all.
I haven't been able to fit into this dress in quite a long time, and with my weight loss, it finally fits again. It's kind of cool because when I made it, I only weighed about 160 and it was fitted perfectly to me. Now at 190 pounds, it fits again and is actually a bit loose in the waist when I wear my corset. Hah!
I was kind of cruising for a let-down, however. While people may ooh and ahhh over your outfit, they are more excited about those who wear something shocking, like the guy dressing as a cheerleader complete with fake rack, wig and outrageous makeup or someone dressing ghoulishly. Obviously, most people have no clue about the era the dress represents (Renaissance? Umm, try a couple of centuries later, my friend! Princess? WTFF? I'm not wearing a tiara, honey.), and let's face it, nobody in the modern workforce is used to dealing with women in trained skirts. *sigh* It did get me more doors opened for me than usual, though. Chivalry isn't dead when a man sees a woman in an evening gown!
I dress for me first and foremost, my husband second. Everybody else can fall in line afterwards and I could care less. But for some reason on Halloween, I want my efforts to be noticed, even though I am dressing for myself, and I want people to think that my costumes are the neatest thing they've ever seen. I may have spent weeks making this costume all those years ago, but people don't care when it comes to a costume contest. They want the cross-dresser, or the guy dressed as Jack Sparrow. Guess I'm just a costume snob. Sucks to be me, eh?
So, I'm relegated to the costume dustbin again. Everybody around here knows that I dress spectacularly on Halloween, but it's not what they like to see. It doesn't matter if I weigh 315 pounds or 190. Some things never change. I need to get over it and put my big girl panties on, don't I? After all, it's pretty silly to get upset over a stupid contest.
But it just goes to show you. Some things don't magically turn around if you lose the weight. I still get inferiority complexes over the simplest of things, things that I perceive as a rejection of me, when they're more than likely nothing of the sort. My weight has nothing to do with it. Never has and never will. This may be one of the more freeing revelations I have come to of late. Doesn't take the sting entirely away, but it wakens me to the realization that yes, my perceptions of things control my reality by bringing me up or taking me down. The choice is mine.
Which choice will you make?
For me, this means that I get to drag out some of my costumes that I've made either during my time with the SCA or ones that I made for various plays/operas that I participated in many, many years ago. This year, I decided to drag out my Gibson Girl ballgown I made in 1993 when I was the lead in The Merry Widow. It's blue taffeta with black trim and is beautiful. Kangaroo bodice, slim front profile skirt spilling into a gored and flared back. Gorgeous. *sigh* I would wear an outfit like this every day if I could. Corset and all.
I haven't been able to fit into this dress in quite a long time, and with my weight loss, it finally fits again. It's kind of cool because when I made it, I only weighed about 160 and it was fitted perfectly to me. Now at 190 pounds, it fits again and is actually a bit loose in the waist when I wear my corset. Hah!
I was kind of cruising for a let-down, however. While people may ooh and ahhh over your outfit, they are more excited about those who wear something shocking, like the guy dressing as a cheerleader complete with fake rack, wig and outrageous makeup or someone dressing ghoulishly. Obviously, most people have no clue about the era the dress represents (Renaissance? Umm, try a couple of centuries later, my friend! Princess? WTFF? I'm not wearing a tiara, honey.), and let's face it, nobody in the modern workforce is used to dealing with women in trained skirts. *sigh* It did get me more doors opened for me than usual, though. Chivalry isn't dead when a man sees a woman in an evening gown!
I dress for me first and foremost, my husband second. Everybody else can fall in line afterwards and I could care less. But for some reason on Halloween, I want my efforts to be noticed, even though I am dressing for myself, and I want people to think that my costumes are the neatest thing they've ever seen. I may have spent weeks making this costume all those years ago, but people don't care when it comes to a costume contest. They want the cross-dresser, or the guy dressed as Jack Sparrow. Guess I'm just a costume snob. Sucks to be me, eh?
So, I'm relegated to the costume dustbin again. Everybody around here knows that I dress spectacularly on Halloween, but it's not what they like to see. It doesn't matter if I weigh 315 pounds or 190. Some things never change. I need to get over it and put my big girl panties on, don't I? After all, it's pretty silly to get upset over a stupid contest.
But it just goes to show you. Some things don't magically turn around if you lose the weight. I still get inferiority complexes over the simplest of things, things that I perceive as a rejection of me, when they're more than likely nothing of the sort. My weight has nothing to do with it. Never has and never will. This may be one of the more freeing revelations I have come to of late. Doesn't take the sting entirely away, but it wakens me to the realization that yes, my perceptions of things control my reality by bringing me up or taking me down. The choice is mine.
Which choice will you make?
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
I fit into WHAT?
I am in that lovely inbetween stage. The one where I have to buy clothing to fit the larger parts of my body instead of the smaller parts. The reason for this? Excess skin. Ugh. This has led to much aggravation in shopping and made me just flat-out give up until such time as a lovely scalpel can take care of the problem (hopefully soon! Eeee!). I mean, who wants to buy something that's two sizes too big for your chest because it's what you need to keep your upper arms happy? Gah. Frustration abounds.
But there have been some happy lights in the clothing department, I have to say. If I use a body shaper, I comfortably fit into a size 12 skirt. Yes, a 12. One size smaller than my goal size. Not too bad if I say so myself. And once I get rid of this excess stomach, I will be fitting these things without the body shaper in an even smaller size, and who can complain about that, right?
Getting into the size 12 was, of course, accompanied by the usual mind-fuck that those of us who have lost a lot of weight go through. I mean, I can't possibly fit into that. Come on. You're kidding me. WHAT? It FITS! Huzzah, etc., etc. and accompanied by trying on every size from 18 down to the final 12. It is coming easier as more time goes on, thankfully. I would hate to be doing this same spiel over and over and over again for the rest of my life. It gets tiring to say the least, and mentally exhausting, having to beat myself up every time I go shopping.
Time, however, hasn't stopped the comments from coming. Now that I have moved back into the main building, my visibility level has gone WAY up. The time I was over in the trailer encompassed all of my weight loss up to this time, so to some people they are shocked at seeing literally half of the me that they expected to see. And once again, the explanations of how I lost it all are being trotted out. It's nice that everybody here has seen several other people go through WLS, so they are not condemning at all and have only seen successes, and not failures with which to nag me. I feel very lucky to be in a culture that is as understanding and supportive as this one and was a big part of my decision to do this. I knew that I would have built-in support both in the "been there, done that" kind and in the "we've seen what this can do - good for you for doing this!"
The downside of moving back into the main building, however, is the overabundance of treats everywhere one looks - including the community candy dish located right. In. My. Cube. Gahhh! Just keep drowing "hunger pangs" with Crystal Light is my mantra. If I'm not hungry, I won't eat. We'll see how long that lasts, however.
Eh, this is why I got the DS, right? Occasional treat and all that. Just not all the time. Must remember. Jerky is my friend!
But there have been some happy lights in the clothing department, I have to say. If I use a body shaper, I comfortably fit into a size 12 skirt. Yes, a 12. One size smaller than my goal size. Not too bad if I say so myself. And once I get rid of this excess stomach, I will be fitting these things without the body shaper in an even smaller size, and who can complain about that, right?
Getting into the size 12 was, of course, accompanied by the usual mind-fuck that those of us who have lost a lot of weight go through. I mean, I can't possibly fit into that. Come on. You're kidding me. WHAT? It FITS! Huzzah, etc., etc. and accompanied by trying on every size from 18 down to the final 12. It is coming easier as more time goes on, thankfully. I would hate to be doing this same spiel over and over and over again for the rest of my life. It gets tiring to say the least, and mentally exhausting, having to beat myself up every time I go shopping.
Time, however, hasn't stopped the comments from coming. Now that I have moved back into the main building, my visibility level has gone WAY up. The time I was over in the trailer encompassed all of my weight loss up to this time, so to some people they are shocked at seeing literally half of the me that they expected to see. And once again, the explanations of how I lost it all are being trotted out. It's nice that everybody here has seen several other people go through WLS, so they are not condemning at all and have only seen successes, and not failures with which to nag me. I feel very lucky to be in a culture that is as understanding and supportive as this one and was a big part of my decision to do this. I knew that I would have built-in support both in the "been there, done that" kind and in the "we've seen what this can do - good for you for doing this!"
The downside of moving back into the main building, however, is the overabundance of treats everywhere one looks - including the community candy dish located right. In. My. Cube. Gahhh! Just keep drowing "hunger pangs" with Crystal Light is my mantra. If I'm not hungry, I won't eat. We'll see how long that lasts, however.
Eh, this is why I got the DS, right? Occasional treat and all that. Just not all the time. Must remember. Jerky is my friend!
Monday, September 17, 2007
Monday Minutiae
It seems that I was incorrect in the model number of the motorcycle we have purchased for my use. It is just a TW200, not a TRW200. No biggie, but what, pray tell, does the "R" mean when it is present in a motorcycle designation for Yamaha and many other brands? Why that would be "RACING," which The Husband let slip when I referred to my motorcycle incorrectly this weekend. And precisely WHOSE motorcycle has the "R" in its model designation? Yeah. That would be HIS FJR1300. Yeah. Racing. Funny how he snuck that by me, pulling the wool over my eyes, so to speak, isn't it? Harrumph!
And speaking of pulling the wool over the eyes . . . the girlies and I went to have our eyes checked this weekend at Lenscrafters. Thing Two needed to be checked to make sure that she *really* needs glasses (she does, and has an astigmatism to boot! Feh!) and Thing One needed an update and new pairs of glasses. I needed my routine annual checkup, including the check for glaucoma, seeing as how I have inherited a double-whammy from both my mother's and father's sides the equations. Eye pressure is normal, as it has been since I was a teen, which is good. Not that I'm paranoid about glaucoma (which I am), but I really don't want to be in the situation my mother was where they didn't catch it until it was pretty well progressed and she has chunks that are missing from her vision as a result and has also had to have surgery to DRILL HOLES in her eyeballs to relieve the pressure so things don't get worse. Ahem. Not my cup of tea.
No, the surprise of the visit is that the last time I had my eyes checked (about a year and a half ago - before having the DS) my prescription was -1.75 diopters in the right eye and -2.25 diopters in the left eye. It's been that way over the last seven to eight years or so. This steady prescription put me smack-dab in the category of "people who are able to have LASIK surgery because their prescription has remained stable." Yay! A life devoid of glasses! Sign me up!
This visit, however, dashed my hopes entirely. A full half diopter change in BOTH eyes. Aaargh.
But wait. I'm not finished yet. The change? It's not that my eyes have gotten worse, it's that they have gotten BETTER! Yes, my prescription is now -1.25 and -1.75, right and left eyes respectively. Holy cow! My optometrist was stunned. She's never seen something like this before. People always get worse, not better.
Could this be a result of having the DS? Did my excess weight also put a strain on my eyes that I had no way of knowing about? I mean, this prescription is what it was when I was 25. And here I am at 37 years of age with IMPROVING eyesight.
Is this improvement going to continue? Is it based on my weight loss? Is it based on my change to a high-protein diet? Have there been studies of WLS patients studying this phenomenon? WTF is going on here?
All I know is that I will put this down in the column of "good things that happened to me after weight loss." Who cares that I need to wait another three-to-four years to have a steady prescription. I'll take glasses for a while with these kinds of results.
And speaking of pulling the wool over the eyes . . . the girlies and I went to have our eyes checked this weekend at Lenscrafters. Thing Two needed to be checked to make sure that she *really* needs glasses (she does, and has an astigmatism to boot! Feh!) and Thing One needed an update and new pairs of glasses. I needed my routine annual checkup, including the check for glaucoma, seeing as how I have inherited a double-whammy from both my mother's and father's sides the equations. Eye pressure is normal, as it has been since I was a teen, which is good. Not that I'm paranoid about glaucoma (which I am), but I really don't want to be in the situation my mother was where they didn't catch it until it was pretty well progressed and she has chunks that are missing from her vision as a result and has also had to have surgery to DRILL HOLES in her eyeballs to relieve the pressure so things don't get worse. Ahem. Not my cup of tea.
No, the surprise of the visit is that the last time I had my eyes checked (about a year and a half ago - before having the DS) my prescription was -1.75 diopters in the right eye and -2.25 diopters in the left eye. It's been that way over the last seven to eight years or so. This steady prescription put me smack-dab in the category of "people who are able to have LASIK surgery because their prescription has remained stable." Yay! A life devoid of glasses! Sign me up!
This visit, however, dashed my hopes entirely. A full half diopter change in BOTH eyes. Aaargh.
But wait. I'm not finished yet. The change? It's not that my eyes have gotten worse, it's that they have gotten BETTER! Yes, my prescription is now -1.25 and -1.75, right and left eyes respectively. Holy cow! My optometrist was stunned. She's never seen something like this before. People always get worse, not better.
Could this be a result of having the DS? Did my excess weight also put a strain on my eyes that I had no way of knowing about? I mean, this prescription is what it was when I was 25. And here I am at 37 years of age with IMPROVING eyesight.
Is this improvement going to continue? Is it based on my weight loss? Is it based on my change to a high-protein diet? Have there been studies of WLS patients studying this phenomenon? WTF is going on here?
All I know is that I will put this down in the column of "good things that happened to me after weight loss." Who cares that I need to wait another three-to-four years to have a steady prescription. I'll take glasses for a while with these kinds of results.
Friday, September 14, 2007
She Loses an Entire Other Person and She's Taking Up WHAT?
Motorcycles. Yup. You read that right. Motorcycles. I am now the proud owner of a Yamaha TRW200 - a dual sport that has a little bit of getupandgo and is still lightweight enough for me to feel comfortable actually maneuvering.
I held off quite a bit on this one, insisting to The Husband that it was a scooter or nothing else at all. I mean, my grandfather bought one for me when I was 16 and I used that throughout highschool so it was a comfort factor for me. But he somehow maneuvered around me, convinced me that it would be a marvelous training motorcycle for me because of the larger back tire and easy clutch (Just like driving a Volkwagon Beetle again! Yay!) and then as Thing One got older, it would make a great transition for her as well as she got her driver's license. Plus we could take it off-roading, and with me on the motorcycle and Thing Two on the back, that would mean all FOUR of us could go on a ride on the street.
Well, with logic like that, what woman can withstand it? Let's face it. He snowed me. Oh well! I wasn't complaining much. :-P
I went and took the motorcycle test today. And didn't pass by one point. Gah! I hate it when I do that. At least the questions I got wrong were wrong because I don't have much experience on a real motorcycle, and not because I don't know how to drive safely. The one that would have tipped me over the edge into passing I got wrong because I read it wrong. Blargh! Leave it to me to speed-read an important test.
Oh well. Next Monday I shall conquer the DMV and obtain my motorcycle license. As a bonus, I get a driver's license with a NEW PICTURE on it! One of my gripes about losing all this excess weight at this point is that NOBODY recognizes me anymore in my old picture. I mean, I nearly got denied access to my bank account at the place I've banked with since birth. WTF? And there was NO ONE around who has known me for years - an actual first. I had to remember both my mother and mother-in-law's maiden names to get access. They nearly wanted a blood sample it seemed. Aaargh!
But, I guess this means I've done relatively good, eh? If that's my only gripe at this moment, I'll take it. And I'm keeping my old license, come hell or high water. I want to keep that reminder around that I'm no longer that person who was uncomfortable in her own skin.
I held off quite a bit on this one, insisting to The Husband that it was a scooter or nothing else at all. I mean, my grandfather bought one for me when I was 16 and I used that throughout highschool so it was a comfort factor for me. But he somehow maneuvered around me, convinced me that it would be a marvelous training motorcycle for me because of the larger back tire and easy clutch (Just like driving a Volkwagon Beetle again! Yay!) and then as Thing One got older, it would make a great transition for her as well as she got her driver's license. Plus we could take it off-roading, and with me on the motorcycle and Thing Two on the back, that would mean all FOUR of us could go on a ride on the street.
Well, with logic like that, what woman can withstand it? Let's face it. He snowed me. Oh well! I wasn't complaining much. :-P
I went and took the motorcycle test today. And didn't pass by one point. Gah! I hate it when I do that. At least the questions I got wrong were wrong because I don't have much experience on a real motorcycle, and not because I don't know how to drive safely. The one that would have tipped me over the edge into passing I got wrong because I read it wrong. Blargh! Leave it to me to speed-read an important test.
Oh well. Next Monday I shall conquer the DMV and obtain my motorcycle license. As a bonus, I get a driver's license with a NEW PICTURE on it! One of my gripes about losing all this excess weight at this point is that NOBODY recognizes me anymore in my old picture. I mean, I nearly got denied access to my bank account at the place I've banked with since birth. WTF? And there was NO ONE around who has known me for years - an actual first. I had to remember both my mother and mother-in-law's maiden names to get access. They nearly wanted a blood sample it seemed. Aaargh!
But, I guess this means I've done relatively good, eh? If that's my only gripe at this moment, I'll take it. And I'm keeping my old license, come hell or high water. I want to keep that reminder around that I'm no longer that person who was uncomfortable in her own skin.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Affair-licious
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.
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.
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, July 19, 2007
Let the Navel Gazing Begin!
Yes, I know, I've been a bad girl. No updates but once a week. Sorry. I'll try to be better. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
It's kind of hard to believe that it has been a full year since Dr. K went in, rearranged my insides and changed my life upside down in many ways. I can't say as I have minded, though. It's been wonderful rediscovering the old me and finding some new bits of me along the way.
I decided to title this post the way I did because I honestly feel that blogging about losing weight - heck, blogging for the most part - is simply an act of self-servedness, building oneself up, and essentially doing the whole "Look at Me! Look at Me! I'm IMPORTANT, DAMMIT!" thing. And it's something that I don't particularly enjoy. Never have, but I think I kind of got swept up in the whole, "You must catalogue these changes. You need to have a record of it all so that you can look back and see where you were in misery and how far you've come. If you don't, you'll just forget about it and NOT FORGETTING is important. You must remember your FEELINGS!" mentality.
But why? Why must I remember these feelings? I have to remember the feeling of despair that made me want to take a carving knife to myself to just get the damn fat off my body? Thanks, I prefer not to remember that. It was depressing living through it. Why would I want to re-live it? Even though I will always remember that particular psychosis of mine. But you get my drift.
Maybe I think this way because this journey along the DS garden path has, up until this point, been 95% a bed of roses. De-thorned roses with nothing but lovely scents and soft petals to cushion my fall. And now that I've said that, I will promptly be struck with bad luck that will have me in the hospital dealing with strangled bowel lengths and other nasty things like that. Because karma is a bitch that way.
So why do I continue to blog? Well, because I like to tell stories about what goes on in mine and other people's lives. I have about 25,000 words that I want to use a day and because I just don't talk to many people during the day, I usually have about 15,000 words that go unused a day. Blogging gets it out of me.
Here I sit, a hypocrite at her finest, telling you about all the lovely things that are happening to ME. Hey, at least I'm honest about it, right?
Anyway, in the past 12 months, I've managed to go from 315 pounds to 199. This despite eating all the wrong things at times, but still sticking to eating the right things because they actually taste good, you know? Life is a smorgasbord. I'm here to eat the delicacies from it. And I'm not going to apologize for it.
I have yet to take all my measurements. I'll probably be doing that this evening and I'll post the differences for you then. I'm sure it's going to be something utterly mind-boggling to me.
I have gone from a size 26/28 jean to a size 14/16. Technically, I am at the goal that I set for myself. If I could get rid of this damn pooch of a tummy, I probably could go lower. If I do, marvelous! If not, size 14 was my goal from the beginning and damn it if I'm not there.
On top, I have gone from wanting a 30/32 shirt (the girls needed their room!) to being quite comfortable, thank you, in a regular XL t-shirt. They're even a little bit *gasp!* baggy!
Dresses are a whole other animal. I used to wear a 26/28 from Lane Bryant. I really haven't actually tried any on since that size simply because I don't like most of the stuff I see. But the dress I sewed for The Husband's and my vow renewal started out at a 20 (equals a size 16 in regular clothes) and I had to chop a bunch down because I would have been swimming in it. So who knows where I am on that front. I haven't had the time to go to Mervyns and just pick out a bunch of stuff and try it on to see where I'm at but I probably should just for research purposes, you know?
Bones I never knew existed have been making themselves known to me. I have shoulder blades and collar bones for once. I also have sagging skin that makes me almost as depressed as the fat that formerly filled it does and makes me want to take aforementioned knife to it as well to get rid of it. At least a good foundation garment can take care of the ick factor for the most part, but still. Plastics will be a must at some point. Ugh.
I had my lab work drawn this morning before coming into work. Nine vials (Vampires those phlebotomists are, I tell you. Vampires!) of dark red blood that will be furiously spun in a centrifuge and subjected to testing to discover if I've been naughty or nice. To figure out if something Terribly Wrong is going on with my supplementation regimen and absorption levels. We shall see what we shall see and make adjustments from there.
All in all, it's been a wonderful ride this past year. Once the healing was over, my life has gone on, and it's been better than I even expected. I won't deny the hiccoughs, but that's all they've been so far - minor irritants in the great scheme of living life to its fullest. Hopefully this journey will continue that way for a long, long time.
Thus endeth the navel gazing of the day. Now commenteth! Validate me, please! Or not. It's all good. :-)
It's kind of hard to believe that it has been a full year since Dr. K went in, rearranged my insides and changed my life upside down in many ways. I can't say as I have minded, though. It's been wonderful rediscovering the old me and finding some new bits of me along the way.
I decided to title this post the way I did because I honestly feel that blogging about losing weight - heck, blogging for the most part - is simply an act of self-servedness, building oneself up, and essentially doing the whole "Look at Me! Look at Me! I'm IMPORTANT, DAMMIT!" thing. And it's something that I don't particularly enjoy. Never have, but I think I kind of got swept up in the whole, "You must catalogue these changes. You need to have a record of it all so that you can look back and see where you were in misery and how far you've come. If you don't, you'll just forget about it and NOT FORGETTING is important. You must remember your FEELINGS!" mentality.
But why? Why must I remember these feelings? I have to remember the feeling of despair that made me want to take a carving knife to myself to just get the damn fat off my body? Thanks, I prefer not to remember that. It was depressing living through it. Why would I want to re-live it? Even though I will always remember that particular psychosis of mine. But you get my drift.
Maybe I think this way because this journey along the DS garden path has, up until this point, been 95% a bed of roses. De-thorned roses with nothing but lovely scents and soft petals to cushion my fall. And now that I've said that, I will promptly be struck with bad luck that will have me in the hospital dealing with strangled bowel lengths and other nasty things like that. Because karma is a bitch that way.
So why do I continue to blog? Well, because I like to tell stories about what goes on in mine and other people's lives. I have about 25,000 words that I want to use a day and because I just don't talk to many people during the day, I usually have about 15,000 words that go unused a day. Blogging gets it out of me.
Here I sit, a hypocrite at her finest, telling you about all the lovely things that are happening to ME. Hey, at least I'm honest about it, right?
Anyway, in the past 12 months, I've managed to go from 315 pounds to 199. This despite eating all the wrong things at times, but still sticking to eating the right things because they actually taste good, you know? Life is a smorgasbord. I'm here to eat the delicacies from it. And I'm not going to apologize for it.
I have yet to take all my measurements. I'll probably be doing that this evening and I'll post the differences for you then. I'm sure it's going to be something utterly mind-boggling to me.
I have gone from a size 26/28 jean to a size 14/16. Technically, I am at the goal that I set for myself. If I could get rid of this damn pooch of a tummy, I probably could go lower. If I do, marvelous! If not, size 14 was my goal from the beginning and damn it if I'm not there.
On top, I have gone from wanting a 30/32 shirt (the girls needed their room!) to being quite comfortable, thank you, in a regular XL t-shirt. They're even a little bit *gasp!* baggy!
Dresses are a whole other animal. I used to wear a 26/28 from Lane Bryant. I really haven't actually tried any on since that size simply because I don't like most of the stuff I see. But the dress I sewed for The Husband's and my vow renewal started out at a 20 (equals a size 16 in regular clothes) and I had to chop a bunch down because I would have been swimming in it. So who knows where I am on that front. I haven't had the time to go to Mervyns and just pick out a bunch of stuff and try it on to see where I'm at but I probably should just for research purposes, you know?
Bones I never knew existed have been making themselves known to me. I have shoulder blades and collar bones for once. I also have sagging skin that makes me almost as depressed as the fat that formerly filled it does and makes me want to take aforementioned knife to it as well to get rid of it. At least a good foundation garment can take care of the ick factor for the most part, but still. Plastics will be a must at some point. Ugh.
I had my lab work drawn this morning before coming into work. Nine vials (Vampires those phlebotomists are, I tell you. Vampires!) of dark red blood that will be furiously spun in a centrifuge and subjected to testing to discover if I've been naughty or nice. To figure out if something Terribly Wrong is going on with my supplementation regimen and absorption levels. We shall see what we shall see and make adjustments from there.
All in all, it's been a wonderful ride this past year. Once the healing was over, my life has gone on, and it's been better than I even expected. I won't deny the hiccoughs, but that's all they've been so far - minor irritants in the great scheme of living life to its fullest. Hopefully this journey will continue that way for a long, long time.
Thus endeth the navel gazing of the day. Now commenteth! Validate me, please! Or not. It's all good. :-)
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
The 501 Blues
Sunday we're getting ready to go to church, and I decide that it's about high time that I actually, you know, tuck my shirt into my jeans. A simple concept, true, but one that I haven't done in nigh a decade because you have to hide the fat somehow, right?
I tuck my shirt in, and look at myself in the mirror. I grouse that I'm not going to bother because the jeans that I'm wearing are too baggy at the moment and they "need to be tighter."
The Husband looks at me quizzically. Says "Take those things off. I'll be right back."
So I do. And he comes back into the bathroom. With his jeans. Size 36 waist Levis. 501s.
"Put these on."
Holy shit. They fit!
So yeah, my shirt stayed tucked in for once, and we hit Mervyns after church to pick me up my first ever pair of Levis that I have owned.
Life is good.
I tuck my shirt in, and look at myself in the mirror. I grouse that I'm not going to bother because the jeans that I'm wearing are too baggy at the moment and they "need to be tighter."
The Husband looks at me quizzically. Says "Take those things off. I'll be right back."
So I do. And he comes back into the bathroom. With his jeans. Size 36 waist Levis. 501s.
"Put these on."
Holy shit. They fit!
So yeah, my shirt stayed tucked in for once, and we hit Mervyns after church to pick me up my first ever pair of Levis that I have owned.
Life is good.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Eleven Months
Yesterday marked the 11 month anniversary of my Duodenal Switch. In that time, I have lost 114 pounds - something I would have never believed was possible. Words cannot describe how happy this time of watching the pounds drop away has been.
This all being said, I know that my weight loss to this date has not been on par with what it could be. The reason? Simple. I eat too many carbs. But I balance it with eating enough protein first and since the weight has been coming off slowly but steadily, it's been a trade-off that I was willing to make.
But no more.
This weekend, I decided to get down and dirty with this weight loss thing. No more dinking around. Carbs will be allowed, but only in complex or multi/whole-grain form and must be eaten in combination with protein. Case in point - my latest snack. Herb and garlic goat cheese piled high/slathered all over a wheat thin cracker. Five of them is enough to satisfy me. I get tasty protein as well as my hankering for a cracker all in one package.
My day has always started off with either a protein shake or an omelete loaded with cheese and bacon. That's staying the same. However no more cheating with getting the occasional sausage egg muffin or bacon egg and cheese biscuit (double the bacon, please!) even though I throw away the top half of the muffin or biscuit. Too many simple carbs there for the beginning of the day, and I always end up hungry too soon afterwards because of it.
I will be adding another protein shake at some point throughout the day, either as a morning snack or as part of lunch. Today I've already had my 50 grams of Isopure chocolate for breakfast but I've also slammed down another 25 grams of Isopure Mango Peach. This will be my new habit because it also helps me get in more fluid which brings me to my next resolution:
Double up on the water. Despite having something at my elbow all day long to drink, I need to up the consumption, especially as summer is now in full swing here and it's hotter than hades. I will be keeping a checklist to mark off how many 20 oz bottles of H2O or Crystal Lite that I drink. And if I don't have at least five before I go home from work, then I know that I have to drink at least four more at home. If I do drink the five, then I only need two to drink at home. More is always better.
Increase my fat consumption. I know that some of you will be saying "Whaaaa?" to this, but I'm serious. This seems to be the way I lose weight. Every time I loose a chunk of weight it seems to be because I am using the fat malabsorption this surgery provides the right way.
For example, this weekend, we went down to Lancaster to see the Fantastic Four Rise of the Silver Surfer. We also went to the mall, which meant that we went to Famous Dave's for lunch. I always eat their ribs as well as their beans. Which means I get a high fat content even though there is a high sugar content as well. And for the first time, we actually ordered desert because it was Thing Two's birthday. The Husband and Thing One shared their Chocolate Brownie confection, and the Birthday Girl and I shared a Bread Pudding. Oh my. Orgasm on a plate. I love bread pudding. This one is smothered in caramel sauce with pralines and ice cream. So worth the price, but you had better share it with at least one, if not two other people because it's monsterous. We left at least a third of it on the plate because to eat any more would have been so bad later on in the gas department. But don't think I didn't look wistfully at it sitting there - I'm not that good of a girl. Then again, I didn't WANT anymore, so that was good, too. Before surgery, I would have wolfed the rest of it down, full stomach be damned!
Anyway, the combination of the high fat and the protein levels that I had consumed earlier that day (42 gram bullet in the shower plus 50 gram shake on the way down) plunged me down the scale a full three pounds the next morning, where I've sat at since. The simple sugar for some reason, made no difference, but I'm not going to allow that to give me a free sugar pass. That would be the height of idiocy.
The key for me seems to be high protein plus high fat. Yes, I end up with poop that looks like styrofoam and tons of it. It's not explosive thankfully. But every time I do this combination, I promptly drop three to four pounds the next day and it stays like that until I dip down again.
Seeing as how I am now well and truly flirting with going under 200 lbs (this morning's scale read 200.8) I am determined to push this for all it's worth eating wise. For lunch today, I'm going to have my leftovers of Cheddar Chicken. It's made by sauteeing chicken pieces in a tiny bit of bacon grease along with olive oil and butter. Then you sautee the onions and garlic, add the cooked bacon back in, mix it all together with shredded cheddar cheese and cook in the oven until the cheese is melted. Heaven. Pure heaven. And good fats. The last time I ate the leftovers, I lost two pounds.
The DS is certainly a Your Mileage May Vary surgery. Everyone has to find what's right for them eating wise because no one can predict what your body can or cannot handle. Mine seems to have a cast-iron stomach (at least up until now) but needs the extra push of fat to get the pounds a-droppin'.
Who knows what I could do with this if I actually, you know, started exercising for a change? I mean, farm work can be tough, but it's not consistant to be sure. I need an aerobics class, preferably step. That's next on the list.
One hundred and sixty pounds? You will be mine before Christmas.
This all being said, I know that my weight loss to this date has not been on par with what it could be. The reason? Simple. I eat too many carbs. But I balance it with eating enough protein first and since the weight has been coming off slowly but steadily, it's been a trade-off that I was willing to make.
But no more.
This weekend, I decided to get down and dirty with this weight loss thing. No more dinking around. Carbs will be allowed, but only in complex or multi/whole-grain form and must be eaten in combination with protein. Case in point - my latest snack. Herb and garlic goat cheese piled high/slathered all over a wheat thin cracker. Five of them is enough to satisfy me. I get tasty protein as well as my hankering for a cracker all in one package.
My day has always started off with either a protein shake or an omelete loaded with cheese and bacon. That's staying the same. However no more cheating with getting the occasional sausage egg muffin or bacon egg and cheese biscuit (double the bacon, please!) even though I throw away the top half of the muffin or biscuit. Too many simple carbs there for the beginning of the day, and I always end up hungry too soon afterwards because of it.
I will be adding another protein shake at some point throughout the day, either as a morning snack or as part of lunch. Today I've already had my 50 grams of Isopure chocolate for breakfast but I've also slammed down another 25 grams of Isopure Mango Peach. This will be my new habit because it also helps me get in more fluid which brings me to my next resolution:
Double up on the water. Despite having something at my elbow all day long to drink, I need to up the consumption, especially as summer is now in full swing here and it's hotter than hades. I will be keeping a checklist to mark off how many 20 oz bottles of H2O or Crystal Lite that I drink. And if I don't have at least five before I go home from work, then I know that I have to drink at least four more at home. If I do drink the five, then I only need two to drink at home. More is always better.
Increase my fat consumption. I know that some of you will be saying "Whaaaa?" to this, but I'm serious. This seems to be the way I lose weight. Every time I loose a chunk of weight it seems to be because I am using the fat malabsorption this surgery provides the right way.
For example, this weekend, we went down to Lancaster to see the Fantastic Four Rise of the Silver Surfer. We also went to the mall, which meant that we went to Famous Dave's for lunch. I always eat their ribs as well as their beans. Which means I get a high fat content even though there is a high sugar content as well. And for the first time, we actually ordered desert because it was Thing Two's birthday. The Husband and Thing One shared their Chocolate Brownie confection, and the Birthday Girl and I shared a Bread Pudding. Oh my. Orgasm on a plate. I love bread pudding. This one is smothered in caramel sauce with pralines and ice cream. So worth the price, but you had better share it with at least one, if not two other people because it's monsterous. We left at least a third of it on the plate because to eat any more would have been so bad later on in the gas department. But don't think I didn't look wistfully at it sitting there - I'm not that good of a girl. Then again, I didn't WANT anymore, so that was good, too. Before surgery, I would have wolfed the rest of it down, full stomach be damned!
Anyway, the combination of the high fat and the protein levels that I had consumed earlier that day (42 gram bullet in the shower plus 50 gram shake on the way down) plunged me down the scale a full three pounds the next morning, where I've sat at since. The simple sugar for some reason, made no difference, but I'm not going to allow that to give me a free sugar pass. That would be the height of idiocy.
The key for me seems to be high protein plus high fat. Yes, I end up with poop that looks like styrofoam and tons of it. It's not explosive thankfully. But every time I do this combination, I promptly drop three to four pounds the next day and it stays like that until I dip down again.
Seeing as how I am now well and truly flirting with going under 200 lbs (this morning's scale read 200.8) I am determined to push this for all it's worth eating wise. For lunch today, I'm going to have my leftovers of Cheddar Chicken. It's made by sauteeing chicken pieces in a tiny bit of bacon grease along with olive oil and butter. Then you sautee the onions and garlic, add the cooked bacon back in, mix it all together with shredded cheddar cheese and cook in the oven until the cheese is melted. Heaven. Pure heaven. And good fats. The last time I ate the leftovers, I lost two pounds.
The DS is certainly a Your Mileage May Vary surgery. Everyone has to find what's right for them eating wise because no one can predict what your body can or cannot handle. Mine seems to have a cast-iron stomach (at least up until now) but needs the extra push of fat to get the pounds a-droppin'.
Who knows what I could do with this if I actually, you know, started exercising for a change? I mean, farm work can be tough, but it's not consistant to be sure. I need an aerobics class, preferably step. That's next on the list.
One hundred and sixty pounds? You will be mine before Christmas.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Old Bait-and-(non)Switch Game
There is something afoot in the Duodenal Switch world akin to the strange things afoot at the Circle K. And it's something that I believe to be wrong.
More and more of the various DS boards that I peruse are getting posts from potential DS seekers saying that the doctor they consulted with is recommending that they get their DS in two parts - one surgery to perform the gastric reduction, a.k.a. sleeve gastrectomy, and then a second one, later on, to perform the "switch" part of the surgery on the intestines. Okay. Fine. I can see the benefits if the person weighs upwards of 500-600 pounds. Get some weight off of them before you go mucking with their intestines. Do the easier part first and then follow up with the trickier, more dangerous part later when the patient is healthier and more able to move around. Sounds reasonable. To use a visible example, the one woman that was profiled on the Discovery Channel during her plastic surgery quest was given a two-part DS by I believe Dr. Anthone. She weighed at least 600 pounds and needed a bunch of it to come off first before the intestinal switch could safely be performed.
But a lot of these people aren't weighing that much. They're weighing 250-350 pounds on average it seems from the postings I've read. So what's up with that? Why are you selling both them - and their insurance company - the DS but saying that they'll need a two-parter, which the insurance company may not be willing to pay for the second part of later on. This may leave many of these people in a ditch so to speak because the insurance companies will come back saying that there's no need for a "revision" (and that's what it will be) because they've lost some weight and no longer need the surgery. Aren't you really baiting and switching them?
If these surgeons (Prachand and Gagner seem to be the two most frequently mentioned at this point) are really wanting to sell these people on the vertical sleeve gastrectomy - a viable WLS alternative - then why aren't they up front about it? Don't go promising a person a full-on DS when you know that they'll more than likely have to pay out of pocket for the second part, which means that many will not be able to "complete" their surgery. Tell them that you recommend a VSG and be done with it!
What's even more disturbing is that some these surgeons are promising people the full DS, but are then going in and only performing the gastrectomy. The patient wakes up, and is astonished to learn that they didn't get the full-on surgery and always seem to be placated by being told that there were "problems" in the abdominal area that made doing the switch more dangerous than they needed to be - one happened before I had my surgery to a girl who flew all the way to Belgium for Dr. Himpens to operate on her. The patients are stunned. Devastated even. The girl I mentioned was given the run-around for days about why it wasn't completed and she was so upset and angry, feeling alone in a foreign country and being completely discounted.
These people didn't get all that they had bargained for. And considering that WLS is an elective surgery, their choice as to what they get should be given more weight (pardon the expression) than it would be for another type of surgery.
Now, before I get jumped on, let me say that yes, there are times when complications arise and it is just not possible to complete the switch. It is the doctor's discretion in the end, and there is a reason why we choose who we choose to operate on our bodies. But that level of trust that we have in these men and women should not be breeched just because they want to perform medical studies with these people by going with what they (the doctors/surgeons) want to do regardless of patient wishes. And it seems to be happening more and more often.
Yes, I just said it. I believe that some of these doctors may be doing this strictly to be able to gather research information. Why do I assert this? Because I had "complications" in my abdominal area and instead of simply taking the shortcut and only giving me the gastrectomy, my surgeon went ahead and painstakingly removed all of the gnarly adhesions that were in my abdominal area so that he could give me the full surgery that I had requested from him. Only if my life had been in danger would he have not completed it. He didn't betray my trust.
If these doctors want to offer their patients the VSG as a stand-alone option, please, go right ahead. But don't go selling someone a surgery and then fall short of expectations for your own personal agenda. It violates every ounce of trust these people have put in you, your skills and your ethics. If you want to set up a medical study on the benefits of doing the DS in two stages versus one, then give people the option of joining it with a guarantee that the original fees they and their insurance companies paid will pay for EVERYTHING - i.e. both surgeries.
This is our lives they are mucking around with. Most of us make serious, informed decisions about WLS before we step into the arena. We're not stupid. Don't try to pull the wool over our eyes, because it may just backfire on you.
More and more of the various DS boards that I peruse are getting posts from potential DS seekers saying that the doctor they consulted with is recommending that they get their DS in two parts - one surgery to perform the gastric reduction, a.k.a. sleeve gastrectomy, and then a second one, later on, to perform the "switch" part of the surgery on the intestines. Okay. Fine. I can see the benefits if the person weighs upwards of 500-600 pounds. Get some weight off of them before you go mucking with their intestines. Do the easier part first and then follow up with the trickier, more dangerous part later when the patient is healthier and more able to move around. Sounds reasonable. To use a visible example, the one woman that was profiled on the Discovery Channel during her plastic surgery quest was given a two-part DS by I believe Dr. Anthone. She weighed at least 600 pounds and needed a bunch of it to come off first before the intestinal switch could safely be performed.
But a lot of these people aren't weighing that much. They're weighing 250-350 pounds on average it seems from the postings I've read. So what's up with that? Why are you selling both them - and their insurance company - the DS but saying that they'll need a two-parter, which the insurance company may not be willing to pay for the second part of later on. This may leave many of these people in a ditch so to speak because the insurance companies will come back saying that there's no need for a "revision" (and that's what it will be) because they've lost some weight and no longer need the surgery. Aren't you really baiting and switching them?
If these surgeons (Prachand and Gagner seem to be the two most frequently mentioned at this point) are really wanting to sell these people on the vertical sleeve gastrectomy - a viable WLS alternative - then why aren't they up front about it? Don't go promising a person a full-on DS when you know that they'll more than likely have to pay out of pocket for the second part, which means that many will not be able to "complete" their surgery. Tell them that you recommend a VSG and be done with it!
What's even more disturbing is that some these surgeons are promising people the full DS, but are then going in and only performing the gastrectomy. The patient wakes up, and is astonished to learn that they didn't get the full-on surgery and always seem to be placated by being told that there were "problems" in the abdominal area that made doing the switch more dangerous than they needed to be - one happened before I had my surgery to a girl who flew all the way to Belgium for Dr. Himpens to operate on her. The patients are stunned. Devastated even. The girl I mentioned was given the run-around for days about why it wasn't completed and she was so upset and angry, feeling alone in a foreign country and being completely discounted.
These people didn't get all that they had bargained for. And considering that WLS is an elective surgery, their choice as to what they get should be given more weight (pardon the expression) than it would be for another type of surgery.
Now, before I get jumped on, let me say that yes, there are times when complications arise and it is just not possible to complete the switch. It is the doctor's discretion in the end, and there is a reason why we choose who we choose to operate on our bodies. But that level of trust that we have in these men and women should not be breeched just because they want to perform medical studies with these people by going with what they (the doctors/surgeons) want to do regardless of patient wishes. And it seems to be happening more and more often.
Yes, I just said it. I believe that some of these doctors may be doing this strictly to be able to gather research information. Why do I assert this? Because I had "complications" in my abdominal area and instead of simply taking the shortcut and only giving me the gastrectomy, my surgeon went ahead and painstakingly removed all of the gnarly adhesions that were in my abdominal area so that he could give me the full surgery that I had requested from him. Only if my life had been in danger would he have not completed it. He didn't betray my trust.
If these doctors want to offer their patients the VSG as a stand-alone option, please, go right ahead. But don't go selling someone a surgery and then fall short of expectations for your own personal agenda. It violates every ounce of trust these people have put in you, your skills and your ethics. If you want to set up a medical study on the benefits of doing the DS in two stages versus one, then give people the option of joining it with a guarantee that the original fees they and their insurance companies paid will pay for EVERYTHING - i.e. both surgeries.
This is our lives they are mucking around with. Most of us make serious, informed decisions about WLS before we step into the arena. We're not stupid. Don't try to pull the wool over our eyes, because it may just backfire on you.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Survival of the Fittest
I am now convinced that planning a wedding-type activity is what is used in our society to determine who precisely is meant to live on this earth. Because those who survive truly prove Darwin's theory of survival of the fittest.
It was a lovely time. Stress level once everything was at the church dropped to nil. I took my time getting dressed. The Husband looked dashing. Brother-in-Law looked swashbuckle-y, Friend looked bone-crushing-y. Thing One and Thing Two were attitude-y but gorgeous-y. In-laws were in abundance. Father was not, however Mother made up for absence of my side of the family in spades.
More than ever, I am convinced that this was the right thing to do. Renewing our promises to each other in front of witnesses that see us every day (that part for the first time) was something important to us. I got my big white dress. I looked like I felt - radiantly happy. What more can a girl ask for?
It was a lovely time. Stress level once everything was at the church dropped to nil. I took my time getting dressed. The Husband looked dashing. Brother-in-Law looked swashbuckle-y, Friend looked bone-crushing-y. Thing One and Thing Two were attitude-y but gorgeous-y. In-laws were in abundance. Father was not, however Mother made up for absence of my side of the family in spades.
More than ever, I am convinced that this was the right thing to do. Renewing our promises to each other in front of witnesses that see us every day (that part for the first time) was something important to us. I got my big white dress. I looked like I felt - radiantly happy. What more can a girl ask for?
There were certain things that were odd, however. Specifically when it came to me, my weight loss, and how people perceived me.
When I saw my brother-in-law, and The Husband was bragging on how much I had lost, BIL had no clue what Husband was talking about and couldn't figure it out for a bit. The person he saw was the person he had always seen. His brain, much like mine, had never really registered that I had gotten as large as I had. He was seeing me, Sarah, as the same Sarah his brother married 13 years ago. Just a little bit older, but the same person none-the-less. Who I look like now is the picture he's carried of me around in his head, even though he's seen me at least once a year and has seen me at my highest weight. To him, I'm the same person I've always been.
My mother, who hadn't seen me since a week out of surgery, was the same way. She knew precisely what I would be looking like at this weight and had already adjusted her mental image to the one that was in her memory banks. There was no exclamations of "you look so skinny!" which was actually the kind of reaction I was afraid I was going to get as I am beginning to hate hearing that all the time. I didn't know how I would feel hearing something like that coming out of my mother's mouth. She is just happy that I am now happier with where I'm at and that I am once again comfortable in my body.
As I corseted my flabby skin into my beautiful dress that I finished in the nick of time, I felt like this was one of the first real steps back into who I really am. The me that's been hidden in the fat suit. It wasn't me, but was just attached to me, a monkey on my back (elephant perhaps?) that dragged me down.
And all throughout our trip to Vegas I was reminded that I'm back. Men stopped and looked like they used to. I mean, I'm no beauty queen, but when you have a confidence in yourself, you get noticed and appreciated visually. Strangers that would have ignored me previously struck up conversations. I could walk for forever and not have to stop and take a break so my feet would stop hurting.
The real kicker came the day we checked out of the hotel on Tuesday. From there we went to the Las Vegas Speedway so that I could get to ride along in a real NASCAR on the track. Three things occurred that after it was all said and done made me cry.
First, there was no struggle to find a safety suit that would fit me. Straight off the rack it came, and it was even loose.
Second, even though I was trepadacious about how I was going to get into the car, all it took was a quick leg over and whoosh I was in through the window as if I had been slipping into race cars all my life and it was second nature. Bo and Luke Duke had nuthin' on me!
Third, the only complication of getting out of the car was figuring out how to get my head out at the right angle with the helmet and HANS device still on. Once that was done, everything else was a breeze.
No pry bars were needed. No extra-large suit had to be found or pieced together to actually fit me. Easy coordination and off the rack apparel was all it took.
I'm normal again.
The Husband and I had a good cry over this. Him because he's so happy that I can enjoy things again, and me because I have ME back.
If you've been thinking that surgery is your only way out of the prison your body has become, do it. Do it now. I cry for the wasted years of my life, even though there were only relatively few of them compared to some of you out there. But the things that I missed doing! I'll never get them back. Now? Now I live for me. I live for my husband. I live for my children. And that life is GOOD. And it's spread out in front of me, a smorgasbord of delights that I can taste again.
Why don't you dive into your own? I'll be here for you.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Size 8
Yup. That would be me. Well, actually 7 and a half does fit, but I think that it will be too tight for a little bit longer, so I didn't want to go there and just went with the 8.
What? Oh! It's my ring size, silly! After one too many close calls with my wedding rings, I had to take them in to be sized down because the ring keepers irritate my skin too much. I haven't been a size 8 in rings, in, well, forever. I honestly can't remember back that far, even when I was a more normal weight my fingers were always fatter than the rest of me in that regard.
While I may not fit into a size 8 jean just yet, my relatively new size 18 jeans have begun to sag and bag in the ass and thighs and my size 18/20 shirts are much looser than they were. The pounds are slinking off slowly, but the inches are moving much quicker at this point, and I suppose that's all for good. I'll take the inches gone over pounds gone any day of the week!
Since I've reached the 100+ pound loss point, I really don't feel it necessary to tell people just how much I've lost unless they're very close friends or family. So to describe the situation, I've started telling people that I've "lost a runway model." Hee! I figure that's just about right, skin and bones that most of them are.
My question for the day is this: When did you stop telling people how much you had lost and instead gave a visual reference or something else to answer their curiosity? Post a comment and let me know.
What? Oh! It's my ring size, silly! After one too many close calls with my wedding rings, I had to take them in to be sized down because the ring keepers irritate my skin too much. I haven't been a size 8 in rings, in, well, forever. I honestly can't remember back that far, even when I was a more normal weight my fingers were always fatter than the rest of me in that regard.
While I may not fit into a size 8 jean just yet, my relatively new size 18 jeans have begun to sag and bag in the ass and thighs and my size 18/20 shirts are much looser than they were. The pounds are slinking off slowly, but the inches are moving much quicker at this point, and I suppose that's all for good. I'll take the inches gone over pounds gone any day of the week!
Since I've reached the 100+ pound loss point, I really don't feel it necessary to tell people just how much I've lost unless they're very close friends or family. So to describe the situation, I've started telling people that I've "lost a runway model." Hee! I figure that's just about right, skin and bones that most of them are.
My question for the day is this: When did you stop telling people how much you had lost and instead gave a visual reference or something else to answer their curiosity? Post a comment and let me know.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Oh, and by the way . . .
ONE HUNDRED POUNDS LOST! Whooooo-Hooooooo! And no, it's not an April Fools thing. Hee!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Doomed. Just Doomed!
Five fucking pounds up. The hell? I'm going to just tell myself that it's because of all the exercise I had on the stationary bike last week coupled with the 100-120+ grams of protein a day I was consuming.
Fuck being a good girl if this is what it's going to get me. Blech.
Fuck being a good girl if this is what it's going to get me. Blech.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Don't Lose Anymore!
I suppose it's fitting that I just hit eight months out out this surgery and one pound away from having lost 100 pounds and have now I have received my first "Don't lose anymore! You look just fine!" comment. Wierd. Especially since I still have 50-ish pounds to go to start grazing the top of the "normal" BMI range for my height.
It's probably par for the course because I didn't pull a Star Jones about my surgery and have been open with everyone who asked how I was losing the weight. It doesn't matter to me that they know, because I'm happy with my decision. The only thing I'm uncomfortable with is that everybody has to put in their two cents about it. Water off a duck's back, right?
Like I've said before, I really would be okay right here if I didn't lose anymore. It is a good weight for me and clothes fit nicely. But why bother having surgery if I'm not going to work it for all it's worth, right?
The elusive 100 pound mark, however, is seriously pissing me off at the moment. I imagine once I forget about it I will of course jump right down there which is again, par for the course. Until then, I'll be a good girl (well, except for that bite of marshmallow egg yesterday) and push my protein and fluids. I've got some Peach Nectar I need to use up. I'll use that instead of my Crystal Lite drinks every now and again. Good stuff.
This Sunday I will be exercising my thespian muscles for the first time in a long time in a small skit at church. It's set in a gym, so I'll be on a stationary bike the whole time. Should be interesting. Let's just hope I don't get stage fright after not treading the boards for so long. NOT!
It's probably par for the course because I didn't pull a Star Jones about my surgery and have been open with everyone who asked how I was losing the weight. It doesn't matter to me that they know, because I'm happy with my decision. The only thing I'm uncomfortable with is that everybody has to put in their two cents about it. Water off a duck's back, right?
Like I've said before, I really would be okay right here if I didn't lose anymore. It is a good weight for me and clothes fit nicely. But why bother having surgery if I'm not going to work it for all it's worth, right?
The elusive 100 pound mark, however, is seriously pissing me off at the moment. I imagine once I forget about it I will of course jump right down there which is again, par for the course. Until then, I'll be a good girl (well, except for that bite of marshmallow egg yesterday) and push my protein and fluids. I've got some Peach Nectar I need to use up. I'll use that instead of my Crystal Lite drinks every now and again. Good stuff.
This Sunday I will be exercising my thespian muscles for the first time in a long time in a small skit at church. It's set in a gym, so I'll be on a stationary bike the whole time. Should be interesting. Let's just hope I don't get stage fright after not treading the boards for so long. NOT!
Monday, March 12, 2007
The Good, the Bad and Everything Inbetween
So much for my resolution to post more often. Forgive me!
- Last week we lost one of the baby lambs to tetanus - one of Chocolate Chip's enormous twins. Last year we lost three of the babies to it as well. According to the vet, it appears that we have a lot of the dormant bacteria in our soil. It's a hazard of simply being on a farm and our using of elastrator bands to dock tails and castrate the boys increases the risk of the sheep getting it. So, after trying to mega-dose the affected baby with the tetanus anti-toxin and failing, we vaccinated all the other babies and so far none of them have had a problem. It's a good thing we vaccinated them because at least one of them had started developing a stiff-legged gait which is a prime symptom that they have tetanus. From now on, the babies will get vaccinated whenever we dock/castrate in the future. I'm not playing around with this anymore. It's not fun to come out and find one of your babies lying on the ground, bleating piteously and there's nothing you can do for it because it's too late. Major suckage.
- The Husband and I got matching tattoos on Friday celebrating our 13 years of marriage. I know it's a month before our actual anniversary, but he was so antsy over it, that we had to go and do it now. They're lovely and I'll post a photo tonight of mine. And holy hell did this one hurt! If I thought The Husband was getting hurt (he got his on his right pec), getting mine proved that he wasn't being a wussie boy about it (I got mine on my left thigh). That 3-liner hurts! But if she had used a standard 5-needle to do the lining, it just wouldn't have looked as good. I can't imagine the pain of getting single-line work done. Owieee! The tattoo on my back/neck is still unfinished but hopefully I'll take care of that on the 23rd.
- We went shopping on Saturday for all the other fabric that I need to pull off everything for the wedding. I had a list as long as my forearm, and even though The Husband has seen me shop for fabric before, I think he was actually a little bit intimidated by the way I can march through a fabric shop and pile up the bolts of fabric that are needed. We made some good choices, even though I have now re-thought one of them and already ordered a replacement, and I think we can pull this off.
- Started making my corset for underneath the wedding dress yesterday. I forgot how much I enjoy making these things, even though they can be a pain in the ass (grommets, I'm talking about you!). I made it a little bit small, so I'm going to have to adjust some of the seams tonight, but I think it will turn out well. I wanted to make the corset first so that I could take measurements on how to construct my dress later. Once I get it done, this will be a huge step towards making this thing a reality and will help propell me through everything else. I'm going to be sewing every night for the next month, however. It's been a while since I've done that and it will be fun to do that again. I think I need to buy a clock for that area because I lose track of time so easily when I'm sewing. I don't feel like eating dinner at 11 at night because I've lost track of time!
- I am now two pounds away from having lost 100 pounds from my highest known weight. Hot damn! My body seems to have settled into a rhythm with the losing. I go two or so weeks maintaining the same weight. Then quickly drop three or four pounds in a few days. Then back to maintaining for two to three weeks. Then drop some more. It's a bit disappointing to not see the scale drop every week, but hello! I've lost nearly 100 pounds! I've just got to keep on keeping on. Eat that protein, drink that water, take those vitamins and all shall be well. Hopefully.
Anyway, that's me and my life for now. I'll post tonight with the picture of my tattoo and we'll go from there. Have fun this week waking up from Daylight Savings! I know that dragging myself out of bed today was terrible. I love the light in the evening, but hate the reality of the morning alarm. Aaargh.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Regaining the Land Speed Record
I was always a fast walker. It was as if it was a sport to me. I mean, come on, we've got a lot of ground to cover here, people! Move it, move it, move it! It used to be the biggest complaint people had about me - that they couldn't keep up.
By the time I reached about 260 pounds, that started to change. I slowed down. A lot. By the time I was at my highest weight (which the husband now thinks was a bit higher than the 315 that we know about based on pictoral evidence), I was a veritable sloth. Those of you that have been or are currently heavy know what I'm talking about. You're out of breath. Your feet hurt. Your knees hurt. Your back hurts. Walking quickly? Hah! That's for lunatics. Don't worry about me. I'll get there eventually!
About four or five weeks ago, I noticed on my daily walk into work through the parking lots that I was no longer lagging behind people getting out of their cars at the same time as me. In fact, I was either keeping pace with them, or starting to gradually overtake them.
Then two or three weeks ago, I realized that I was back at it fully. I'm speed walking again. I don't want to waste time, so I'm moving as quickly as I can without breaking into a trot. No, I don't wiggle my ass and hips the way those professional speed walkers do, but damn it all if I'm not acting like I'm getting a workout while simply walking somewhere again. And I'm not winded when I get to my destination! Glory Halleluia! It's amazing what losing close to 100 pounds will do for a person, eh?
Out-of-pocket cost for Duodenal Switch Surgery? $3600
Cost of new clothes to fit shrinking body? $1000
Monthly cost for protein and vitamins to fit new lifestyle? $150
Re-setting your own personal land speed record? Priceless.
By the time I reached about 260 pounds, that started to change. I slowed down. A lot. By the time I was at my highest weight (which the husband now thinks was a bit higher than the 315 that we know about based on pictoral evidence), I was a veritable sloth. Those of you that have been or are currently heavy know what I'm talking about. You're out of breath. Your feet hurt. Your knees hurt. Your back hurts. Walking quickly? Hah! That's for lunatics. Don't worry about me. I'll get there eventually!
About four or five weeks ago, I noticed on my daily walk into work through the parking lots that I was no longer lagging behind people getting out of their cars at the same time as me. In fact, I was either keeping pace with them, or starting to gradually overtake them.
Then two or three weeks ago, I realized that I was back at it fully. I'm speed walking again. I don't want to waste time, so I'm moving as quickly as I can without breaking into a trot. No, I don't wiggle my ass and hips the way those professional speed walkers do, but damn it all if I'm not acting like I'm getting a workout while simply walking somewhere again. And I'm not winded when I get to my destination! Glory Halleluia! It's amazing what losing close to 100 pounds will do for a person, eh?
Out-of-pocket cost for Duodenal Switch Surgery? $3600
Cost of new clothes to fit shrinking body? $1000
Monthly cost for protein and vitamins to fit new lifestyle? $150
Re-setting your own personal land speed record? Priceless.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Anniversary musings
Monday marked my seven-month anniversary of my DS surgery. I am down to 221 pounds from my all-time high of 315. Inching my way to the 100-pounds lost mark, which I will hopefully hit before month eight is over. Not too shabby if I toot my own horn for a bit.
On our speed trip to Carson City all my in-laws kept calling me "skinny," and while I don't exactly equate a size 18 ass as "skinny" I'll take it anyway. They're all so tickled pink and happy for me that I'm becoming the woman that I used to be when I first married their son/brother. It makes me feel good knowing that there are people out there that are rejoicing with me every pound I lose. I have a support system. They care about me and about my happiness. And they would care even if I gained back every single pound I have lost. And that makes a difference to me. It adds an extra twinkle to my eye, and a bit more bounce and quickness to my step.
I have to wonder if knowing that I have this kind of support, as well as the support of all my closest friends, that is making a difference in the way I approach things, and the drive that I have to make this work.
I say this because I have an acquaintance. We used to work together many years ago. Both of us were on the larger side of things, she more than myself. We both got married, both had babies. Both of us shot up in weight, again her more than myself - probably by about 100 pounds.
She had RNY surgery about a year and a half ago. At first, she was stunningly successful. The pounds were dropping off, she looked good, all seemed well. Then the year marker hit. She is still in the mid-to-high 200s and all of a sudden the weight loss stops. Then she starts looking kind of sickly. Now, it's as if she has given up on her tool, because she's stuck where she's at.
She has a difficult life. Because of her husband's disability (legally blind and beginning stages of Parkinsons), she is essentially raising their daughter alone - a daughter who is well on the way to being an obese adult herself if things don't change. He's also not the most supportive person in the world, and I say that having known him and worked with him as well. She works at Wal-Mart, and has for so long that I don't know if she could market her accounting skills effectively anymore somewhere else. She probably feels trapped in many ways.
This girl doesn't have the same kind of support that I'm getting, and I have to wonder if "support" of the emotional kind is more important to our success as bariatric patients than we realize. I mean, I've seen this girl eat. She eats about the same way I do - toppings off the pizza, protein-rich meats, very little to no sugar (actually less than I do in this category). I just wonder if because she doesn't have a deeper support network than just on the food and vitamin front, that she is being partially thwarted in her quest to become fully "normal." Then again, who knows - she may be binge eating out of the public eye. I hope not, but that could be the case.
The whole situation makes me sad, because she deserves so much more. And I know that she is one of the people that our pastor speaks about when he says that he sees far too many people who have a gastric bypass of any sort "fail." He's also the type who always tries to counsel people out of taking this step because he's "seen too many people die from it." This makes him always ask me in a very concerned way, "How are you doing?" As if he expects me to start wailing and bemoaning what's going on with me. Hon, I'm in the honeymoon stage. All is as right as rain with me. Ask me the question in about another year or so, and you'll get a better picture of what life with a DS is like for me, okay?
Anyway, to celebrate my successes at losing this much weight, I've decided to get a tattoo. Heck, who am I kidding. I'm just using my weight loss as an excuse to get some ink. So Friday at 2 p.m. the needle will be hitting my skin for the first time in a long time, and I can't wait for it. I've decided to go with this design (obviously the tattooist will clean it up a bit) on the back of my neck, starting just behind my left ear and ending up tickling my right shoulder blade. You'll have to imagine the color, but it will be greens, reds, blues, purples, etc. Pretty and feminine. Very me. I'm so excited.
On our speed trip to Carson City all my in-laws kept calling me "skinny," and while I don't exactly equate a size 18 ass as "skinny" I'll take it anyway. They're all so tickled pink and happy for me that I'm becoming the woman that I used to be when I first married their son/brother. It makes me feel good knowing that there are people out there that are rejoicing with me every pound I lose. I have a support system. They care about me and about my happiness. And they would care even if I gained back every single pound I have lost. And that makes a difference to me. It adds an extra twinkle to my eye, and a bit more bounce and quickness to my step.
I have to wonder if knowing that I have this kind of support, as well as the support of all my closest friends, that is making a difference in the way I approach things, and the drive that I have to make this work.
I say this because I have an acquaintance. We used to work together many years ago. Both of us were on the larger side of things, she more than myself. We both got married, both had babies. Both of us shot up in weight, again her more than myself - probably by about 100 pounds.
She had RNY surgery about a year and a half ago. At first, she was stunningly successful. The pounds were dropping off, she looked good, all seemed well. Then the year marker hit. She is still in the mid-to-high 200s and all of a sudden the weight loss stops. Then she starts looking kind of sickly. Now, it's as if she has given up on her tool, because she's stuck where she's at.
She has a difficult life. Because of her husband's disability (legally blind and beginning stages of Parkinsons), she is essentially raising their daughter alone - a daughter who is well on the way to being an obese adult herself if things don't change. He's also not the most supportive person in the world, and I say that having known him and worked with him as well. She works at Wal-Mart, and has for so long that I don't know if she could market her accounting skills effectively anymore somewhere else. She probably feels trapped in many ways.
This girl doesn't have the same kind of support that I'm getting, and I have to wonder if "support" of the emotional kind is more important to our success as bariatric patients than we realize. I mean, I've seen this girl eat. She eats about the same way I do - toppings off the pizza, protein-rich meats, very little to no sugar (actually less than I do in this category). I just wonder if because she doesn't have a deeper support network than just on the food and vitamin front, that she is being partially thwarted in her quest to become fully "normal." Then again, who knows - she may be binge eating out of the public eye. I hope not, but that could be the case.
The whole situation makes me sad, because she deserves so much more. And I know that she is one of the people that our pastor speaks about when he says that he sees far too many people who have a gastric bypass of any sort "fail." He's also the type who always tries to counsel people out of taking this step because he's "seen too many people die from it." This makes him always ask me in a very concerned way, "How are you doing?" As if he expects me to start wailing and bemoaning what's going on with me. Hon, I'm in the honeymoon stage. All is as right as rain with me. Ask me the question in about another year or so, and you'll get a better picture of what life with a DS is like for me, okay?
Anyway, to celebrate my successes at losing this much weight, I've decided to get a tattoo. Heck, who am I kidding. I'm just using my weight loss as an excuse to get some ink. So Friday at 2 p.m. the needle will be hitting my skin for the first time in a long time, and I can't wait for it. I've decided to go with this design (obviously the tattooist will clean it up a bit) on the back of my neck, starting just behind my left ear and ending up tickling my right shoulder blade. You'll have to imagine the color, but it will be greens, reds, blues, purples, etc. Pretty and feminine. Very me. I'm so excited.Friday, February 16, 2007
Date with the Doc
The Husband and I made our way over the Sierras to Delano yesterday for my six-month check up.
Usually, I hate waiting in a doctor's office. Not so when I go see Dr. Keshishian. It's always nice, sitting in their waiting room, watching the people that come in and out. You can tell who is trying to make their decision about whether or not to get the DS - they keep to themselves, are a bit shy, and are clutching their new binder of information. There are those new post-ops who have come in to get those motherfucking drains out - they're easy to spot with the wierd bulges through loose t-shirts and their support person helping them out. Then there are the successful and the not-so successful post-ops rounding out the crowd for the most part - all willing to tell you their story and poke fun at the things we all deal with.
This time, The Husband and I met up with a couple from Bakersfield that we had first met back at my three-month checkup when the wife had come in for her teaching session. She was there for her one-week checkup and to get those damn drains out. She was looking and feeling so good and radiant, it was wonderful to see how well she was doing. Already down 15 pounds, both she and her husband were equally happy to see where my loss was at and wanted to talk about how my journey had been so far and what she had to expect.
We comisserated about getting all the water and protein in during those first few weeks, and how much the drains cramp your style and how much better she would feel after they were gone. Our husbands talked about the ways they helped us out and the changes they saw in us. I warned her about the "hunger monster" that for me rears its head in the wierdest places and how we deal with it. We exchanged tidbits about vitamins and supplements, and the kinds of foods that seem to work well and what doesn't work at all. They are such neat people, and I hope that we keep in touch with them as time goes on. It's really important to have a support network between those of us who have had the same surgery so that we can commisserate and bitch and help and encourage each other along the way.
The highlight of our chit-chat was when the other husband asked to see my license. I showed them the photo of the woman that appears on it, and I can actually say that I am proud of my license now because that woman doesn't exist anymore. That, and my weight is actually just a few pounds above where my license claims it is. Hee! Gotta get a kick out of that.
After waiting a while, we got in to see Dr. K. He's pleased with my loss, pleased with my labs, pleased that I don't have a hernia. Pleased that I don't have terrible diarrhea problems. Not so pleased about my hemorrhagic cyst but that it isn't uncommon and that I needed to keep on top of it with the GYN, to make sure my periods weren't going out of whack as well, and to keep his office apprised of the situation if I needed surgery for it.
Then he asked me about food and how that was going. Did I feel that there was anything that I couldn't eat? Did I feel there were foods that caused problems? Did I overstuff myself frequently?
I answered him honestly: That for the first time in my life, I recognized that the food portions we are being served in this country are truly obscene. That I can't stand overstuffing myself like I used to pre-surgery because of the way it feels and I have developed a way to figure out when I am approaching "full." That it is perfectly fine to go out and have a nice dinner and desert, but that we have to keep ourselves in check and take home that doggie bag of stuff for the next two or three dinners instead of trying to eat it all right then and there. That it is perfectly OKAY to not finish everything on your plate. That it's okay to throw away leftovers. That it's okay to be picky and demand and then eat only the best of something. That it's okay to put ME and my nutritional needs first.
He just smiled at me. "I think you get it now," he said.
"I finally feel normal again," I replied.
"You were normal before," he said. "You just didn't know it."
Is is possible to be in "physician love" with your surgeon? Because I am with this one. And so is The Husband.
Thank you, Dr. K, for believing so much in this surgery and for the support system you provide for us afterward. You didn't have to go into this speciality, but you did, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the chance your surgical skill has given me at this new life I have. Thank you.
I won't let you down.
And more importantly, I won't let ME down.
Usually, I hate waiting in a doctor's office. Not so when I go see Dr. Keshishian. It's always nice, sitting in their waiting room, watching the people that come in and out. You can tell who is trying to make their decision about whether or not to get the DS - they keep to themselves, are a bit shy, and are clutching their new binder of information. There are those new post-ops who have come in to get those motherfucking drains out - they're easy to spot with the wierd bulges through loose t-shirts and their support person helping them out. Then there are the successful and the not-so successful post-ops rounding out the crowd for the most part - all willing to tell you their story and poke fun at the things we all deal with.
This time, The Husband and I met up with a couple from Bakersfield that we had first met back at my three-month checkup when the wife had come in for her teaching session. She was there for her one-week checkup and to get those damn drains out. She was looking and feeling so good and radiant, it was wonderful to see how well she was doing. Already down 15 pounds, both she and her husband were equally happy to see where my loss was at and wanted to talk about how my journey had been so far and what she had to expect.
We comisserated about getting all the water and protein in during those first few weeks, and how much the drains cramp your style and how much better she would feel after they were gone. Our husbands talked about the ways they helped us out and the changes they saw in us. I warned her about the "hunger monster" that for me rears its head in the wierdest places and how we deal with it. We exchanged tidbits about vitamins and supplements, and the kinds of foods that seem to work well and what doesn't work at all. They are such neat people, and I hope that we keep in touch with them as time goes on. It's really important to have a support network between those of us who have had the same surgery so that we can commisserate and bitch and help and encourage each other along the way.
The highlight of our chit-chat was when the other husband asked to see my license. I showed them the photo of the woman that appears on it, and I can actually say that I am proud of my license now because that woman doesn't exist anymore. That, and my weight is actually just a few pounds above where my license claims it is. Hee! Gotta get a kick out of that.
After waiting a while, we got in to see Dr. K. He's pleased with my loss, pleased with my labs, pleased that I don't have a hernia. Pleased that I don't have terrible diarrhea problems. Not so pleased about my hemorrhagic cyst but that it isn't uncommon and that I needed to keep on top of it with the GYN, to make sure my periods weren't going out of whack as well, and to keep his office apprised of the situation if I needed surgery for it.
Then he asked me about food and how that was going. Did I feel that there was anything that I couldn't eat? Did I feel there were foods that caused problems? Did I overstuff myself frequently?
I answered him honestly: That for the first time in my life, I recognized that the food portions we are being served in this country are truly obscene. That I can't stand overstuffing myself like I used to pre-surgery because of the way it feels and I have developed a way to figure out when I am approaching "full." That it is perfectly fine to go out and have a nice dinner and desert, but that we have to keep ourselves in check and take home that doggie bag of stuff for the next two or three dinners instead of trying to eat it all right then and there. That it is perfectly OKAY to not finish everything on your plate. That it's okay to throw away leftovers. That it's okay to be picky and demand and then eat only the best of something. That it's okay to put ME and my nutritional needs first.
He just smiled at me. "I think you get it now," he said.
"I finally feel normal again," I replied.
"You were normal before," he said. "You just didn't know it."
Is is possible to be in "physician love" with your surgeon? Because I am with this one. And so is The Husband.
Thank you, Dr. K, for believing so much in this surgery and for the support system you provide for us afterward. You didn't have to go into this speciality, but you did, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the chance your surgical skill has given me at this new life I have. Thank you.
I won't let you down.
And more importantly, I won't let ME down.
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