New successes and old failures

It's August 13th, as you can see by the blog times tamp. Just shy of 5 months from my revision. I meant to write more but where did the time go? I guess I've just been really busy focusing on the 10 million things I have to keep track of on a daily basis. Being healthy is a ton of work! I am so grateful for this "job" though.

I keep promising myself I will write more frequently. It helped me the first time and I know it would help me now. I've always been one to need to "think aloud" in order to process what's going on. So here I am again, absent for months from a journal no one else even reads. And now back.

So much has happened in these short months. I recovered well from my surgery. I sold a house that I'd owned since 2009 but no longer lived in. Got a horse trailer and truck to pull them with as a gift from an incredible partner for our 5 year anniversary. Oh, yeah, and I lost 37 lbs...or so. Whatever.

37lbs - putting me squarely at 200 and just days away from breaking the 200-barrier for the 2nd time in my life. The first time was September, 2010. I know this because I looked back at my blog. I'm not sure when I crossed 200 again from the other side (on my way up) but I think it was sometime around fall 2012. I am guessing I haven't seen 200 itself in about 3 years. I didn't keep nearly as good of records on my climb back up into obesity.

To be a "weight loss surgery failure" is very difficult. People assume that having weight loss surgery is "the easy way out" so when you "fail" at it, you are even worse than people who lose weight on their own and fail. I know I didn't actually fail. I managed to keep off 95lbs for 2+ years, then even with some regain, kept 40-something pounds off for 3 more years. And my regain was due to many factors including the band just not working for me anymore.

You see, when the band stops working, it takes many forms. Some people get a simple and clear cut mechanical failure such as a leak in the tubing or a slip or an erosion. I had some more subtle problems that I didn't even know were problems, or the extent of, until it was removed.

My band was either too loose, not providing any help at all, or too tight - leaving me unable to swallow a bite of solid, healthy food.

I had spent more money than I could afford messing with the "adjustments" trying to find a level where I wasn't in pain or sick from the tightness of it but not constantly hungry.

My esophagus, about 2.5 years in, exhausted from the constant pressure against it from the band every time I ate food, just stopped working properly. Instead of pushing chewed food down into my stomach (past the band) it would just let food sit in my lower esophagus, which stretched the muscle.

When we realized this was happening, I got all of the fluid taken out of the band, leading to an instantly enlarged appetite, but still, the band inside me would make itself known once in a while if I ate the wrong thing. And by "wrong thing" I mean: meat, fibrous vegetables; fruit, well, basically anything that wasn't chips or ice cream.

The first time I met someone else with a failing band who mentioned the "chip and ice cream diet" I was so relieved it wasn't just me. If you've never been through this it might seem impossible to comprehend how someone so determined to lose weight that she will undergo surgery, comply with a 2 week pre-operative liquid diet, and spend 5 mornings a week at the gym, could possibly turn into someone that lives off junk food. I had lost 95lbs and I had maintained it. I even underwent plastic surgery to remove excess skin and looked the best I ever had. Why would I ever go back to eating junk food?

This is the reason: Imagine being so hungry but physically unable to swallow something nutritious. You'd try. You'd chew a piece of chicken until it was liquified. And when you swallow, it felt like a 1,000 lb weight was sitting in your chest. You try not to puke it up. You start to foam at the mouth, or "slime". Uncontrollable saliva begins to emerge. But it's not even normal spit. It's thick like mucous - the digestive tract desperately trying to lubricate itself to get this food down and make the pain stop.  And when you can't stand it anymore, you give in to the urge and regurgitate the whole thing into a napkin. Or a cup you keep in your car in case of emergencies. For a few minutes you feel nauseous and horrified. Disgusted with yourself and what has just happened. And when that moment passes, you realize that you're hungry. So, so, hungry. And that you don't care what you eat, don't care how it tastes, you just need to get something in you because you're shaking and dizzy. And potato chips - for some reason, go down easy. You can crush a whole bag in a few minutes. And it feels so good to finally stop the hunger for a little while that you don't worry about the calories, fat, or carbs. And you tell yourself that starting tomorrow you'll eat healthy. You'll chew better, take smaller bites, make sure your meat is tender before you try to eat it. But "tomorrow" never actually comes. Because it's not you. It's this thing inside of you.

Now, every day wasn't that bad but it would come and go. As predictable as the weather, basically. That is to say NOT AT ALL. I would have days or weeks of eating with no issue. I might start to get back on track with eating healthily or I might abuse the "freedom" to enjoy things I knew I wouldn't be able to soon. Then there would be the days when I could choke myself on a protein shake. I never understood that. Literally, drinking a protein shake and having to vomit it up because it wouldn't go down past my band.

And it might have all been ok if the band had provided me the kind of appetite suppression it did in the first 2 years. Isn't that outrageous? To admit that I might have been ok living like this if only I could have remained thin? But lucky for me, I didn't. I put back on a lot of my lost weight and I had to face the fact that nothing I could do with the band could stop me from continuing to gain weight.

And that's when I became a revision patient. There is more of the details on that below so I won't spend time on it tonight.

I will admit it though: the revision hasn't been everything I had hoped. I really hoped I would be one of those lucky people that got their hunger hormones extinguished. I mean, out in a landfill somewhere with the 80% of my stomach they removed. I had a few days of that right after surgery! Now, I get hungry just like everyone else. I had also sort of hoped I'd have some major intolerance to certain foods. Just be unable to eat things I shouldn't but still able to eat all the healthy foods. Yeah, wishful thinking. I can eat ANYTHING. At least, in 5 months I haven't come across something I can't eat. I can also eat more than I'm supposed to be able to. Most people 5 months out from their sleeve are struggling to get a mandatory minimum amount of protein and water in daily. Let's just say I haven't struggled since I started solid food 3 weeks post op.

But would I really have wanted to go from one miserable way of eating and disfunctional relationship with food to another? Knowing how things are now, I am grateful that my wishes didn't come true.

And would I do it again? A million times over and without a second thought, yes! So if it isn't some miracle cure then how have I lost 37lbs in the past 5 months? I have busted my ass, mostly! As everyone does when trying to lose weight. I firmly believe if anyone tells you it can be done easily, then they are sadly mistaken.

I watch my diet meticulously - at the moment I don't even eat sugar substitutes and obviously not anything with sugar. I am basically on a whole food, minimally processed, high protein and not much else "diet" right now. And I exercise even more religiously than ever before. I think I might have a true rest day once or twice a month.

I know my weight loss isn't impressive by bariatric standards but I can squat 115lbs, chest press 95, and deadlift 110. I can also bike 75 miles in a day! Those are all things I could not do, not even close, 6 months ago. To improve my overall fitness so fast while losing weight is actually pretty damn impressive.

And now that I am mere days away from being in the 100s again, and conceivably less than a year away from meeting my ultimate goal weight (160 - which I never got to the first time around)... I realize I have made some major changes to the way I live, eat, and treat my body in general. For possibly the first time, just now - in the recent past - I am doing everything I "should" be.  Ok, so I could get better sleep. But almost everything!

So that's it for tonight. I have other topics brewing but I'll be back. Sooner this time!

Goodbye Band, Hello Sleeve!

9 days ago, I woke up from surgery and thought I was dreaming. My surgeon was able to remove my band and revise me to a sleeve in one procedure (which was not guaranteed). I was ecstatic and I still am. Actually I can still hardly believe it happened.

I am going to start writing here regularly again because it helped me so much the first time around. It feels like I'm starting over. I know I'm not really. I'm armed with 5 years of experience with my band including successful weight loss, plastic surgery, band complications, and regain. I have learned from my mistakes and I've also learned that there is no easy, quick fix.

Also, I'm not literally starting over. I'm now in the 220s, which is 50lbs less than I started with when I got banded. I am aiming higher (well, lower) this time though. There is no reason I shouldn't be able to get down to 160. 160 was always my "ultimate" goal. 180 was great and I thought I was going to be there forever but 160 was always the number that eluded me. At my height, 160 is at the high end of normal or the low end of overweight but with my large frame and good muscle mass, I actually would be pretty thin at 160.

So, not only am I writing again for my own sanity and benefit, but I hope that once again my story can help and inspire others.

I will write more about my surgery, going to Mexico, recovery, etc. this is just a quick intro while I'm waiting on my plane to board.

So, welcome back ME! I'm back on the loser's bench and back on track. I want to lose an average of 2lbs per week (8lbs per month) which makes 8 months a realistic goal for losing my last 65 lbs. I should be there by the end of 2015. Can't wait!

A request for help

I haven't posted here in forever but it seemed like the best place to post this. I've considered starting a "go fund me" but they take more fees and I would have to use my legal name (which if you found this through some of my social network sites, you'd understand the hesitation). If you are interested in my entire back story, please read my blog from the beginning - I've been told it's a really interesting story.

But to cut to the chase, here is the abbreviated version:

• In 2010, after 25 years of living in (and fighting) my "morbidly obese" body, failing at every diet I ever tried, I underwent LAP-band surgery.
• It was an immediate success. It was the answer to my prayers. Finally, "eating right and exercising" worked because I wasn't constantly hungry and miserable. 
• I lost 95 lbs in my first year and maintained that loss for another year.
• This weight loss caused some ridiculous health gains: reversed Polycystic Overian Syndrome, reversed hypertension, reversed insulin resistance, eliminated arthritis, diminished depression and anxiety to nearly-non-existent levels. . 
• I paid for my own skin removal surgery (no insurance since it was "cosmetic" but very worth it...so that I could finally feel comfortable in my body.
• Then...all hell broke loose.
• I was laid off from my job (and lost my excellent health insurance)
• I became freelance/self employed, opened my own business, and had to move all over the country to work.
• I lost my partner of 5 years.
• I was injured in a riding accident that left me unable to exercise for months. I could actually barely walk for 2 weeks. 
• My stepdad who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer just before I got my band started declining and in Fall 2013, he passed away.

And AT THE SAME TIME, the one tool that had ever allowed me to successfully manage my weight failed. In the spring/summer of 2012, a routine upper GI study showed that my esophagus was not pushing food beyond the band properly. This was causing food to sit in my "upper stomach" and stretch my esophagus. Even though I only had the band filled to 50% of its capacity (not considered over-filled or "tight" at all) my body was not cooperating. My esophagus had become dilated and I was frequently vomiting from just a couple of bites of solid food. Before I knew there was an issue, I blamed myself for the frequent sickness but the scan revealed that the band was doing my body harm even while it was technically doing its job of helping me maintain my weight loss.

My surgeon emptied all fluid from my band, rendering it basically useless, but it was still sitting inside of me. Since I was no longer on the good insurance that got me the band to begin with, I now had to pay several hundred dollars each time I visited my surgeon for a check up or adjustment. I was earning only a fraction of what I used to be, so I decided to just leave the band un-filled rather than risk further harm to my stomach since I couldn't afford the monthly monitoring and adjustments.

Unfortunately, that meant that despite my best efforts, I gained back half of the weight I had lost. 

And the story gets even worse... I moved across the country to pursue a new relationship and switch careers and thought since I was joining a new employer health plan that I would be safely covered once again. 

But no, the plan specifically excludes ANY treatment relating to weight loss. Doesn't matter that it's a "pre-existing condition" and all I'm asking for is help to maintain my current state of health. Nope, no coverage. 

But, if I woke up one day and couldn't swallow my own saliva because the band slipped and had to go to the ER and get it removed immediately, they'd surely cover that, right? 

Nope. Not one little bit. Doesn't matter if it's an emergency. Doesn't matter if my stomach has eroded into the band or the band has eroded into my liver or if I start bleeding internally or have to be hospitalized for dehydration due to nonstop vomiting. IF it has any relation to my band, my insurance doesn't cover it. 

I spent the past year fighting, researching, begging, appealing, writing letters, 

At least in case of emergency, right? No, nothing. 

So now, I have this ticking time bomb inside of me that's already proven to be doing damage to my body. I have no ability (financially) to monitor it properly. And worst of all, I have the constant fear of the what-if, someday the worst happens and I have to seek emergency treatment and I have no insurance coverage. 

I already know (because it has happened) that in my state of residence, I am not eligible for financial assistance with this because it's considered "elective." 

I also know that again because of the state I live in, I can't get coverage on the exchange/marketplace that's any better than what my employer offers. The state I live in does not mandate coverage for obesity (some states do) so no individual plans cover it, period. 

Given all this, my only real option is to get my band removed electively and pay for it myself. I don't want to just remove it though, I want to revise to a gastric sleeve, which will get me back to the way life was when I had a functioning band and could maintain a healthy weight. 

Please understand I am not doing this out of vanity or convenience. It is not because I am lazy or don't want to exercise or eat healthy. I do all of that and it makes not a single lick of difference. In fact, the more I exercise, the hungrier I am and the more weight I gain. 

I am doing this so that I don't end up back where I was 5 years ago before my band. I don't want to get all the health problems back that I got rid of. 

I am going to Mexico for my surgery because the cost is about 30% of what it is in the US. However, the cost is still more than 20% of my annual salary and I have to pay for travel and take unpaid time off work.

It's really difficult for me to ask for help but I am doing it because I don't have a choice. I hope that if this speaks to you, you will consider donating even a dollar to my cause. I will be absolutely transparent about what I receive and how it's used.  And I vow to pay it forward in the future, in any way I possibly can.

Thank you for reading.

-Ellen

Total cost of surgery + travel + unpaid time off work = about $15,000.
Fundraising Goal: $3,000
Funds donated by amazing people like you since I posted this: $740.00

50 Mile Bike Ride (Part 2 - The Journey)

When I decided a couple of weeks ago that I was going to bike 50 miles on the Heritage Trail, one of the first thoughts I had was "What makes you think you can even do that?" It's weird because I have rarely ever ridden my bike in the past 5 years and when I have it's been 30 or 45 minutes at most. Yet for some reason, I decided I could ride 50 miles which would take me at least 5 hours (more with stops) and I had no doubt in my mind that it was doable.

 I started thinking about this and it seemed like an appropriate metaphor for my weight loss journey. When I set out to get my lap-band, I didn't have any reason to believe I could lose massive amounts of weight but I somehow just "knew" that I would. I could envision myself reaching the finish line. 180lbs was always a number in my mind that stuck out. I zoomed to that goal and I felt unstoppable while doing so. And I largely attribute my success to the mentality that there was just no choice, I had to make it there. It seems as though my body followed my mind's lead and took me where I "had" to go.

It's the same thing with the bike ride. I knew I could make it 25 miles and I knew that once I made it that far I would have no choice but to ride the other 25 home. Sure, if I had an emergency I could have called a friend or a cab to drive me back to where my car was parked but that was a backup plan and certainly wasn't going to be necessary. I just felt like I had no choice but to complete the journey and so I knew that it would happen.

Here is where this metaphor becomes really significant. Now that I am (about) 180 and have been maintaining there (about) for close to 2 years, I still have no ability to visualize myself achieving a lower weight. As much as I want to get to 160, I don't have the same conviction that it's possible. I can't see myself there. I don't have that feeling of knowing or trust that I will get there. I know, oh believe me, I know that this is THE single biggest factor in why I still have not lost my final 20(ish) lbs.

Other issues have popped up that have caused me to gain a little but I know full well that I can and will get back to my 180. But from there, it's like an abyss that for some reason I cannot imagine there being an escape from. So, back to the bike ride... Being alone, in nature, on a bike, for about 7 hours really gives one a lot of time to ponder things. I definitely had a lot of "aha" moments on my ride and I think I learned a lot of lessons. Or maybe things I already knew sank in a little bit more. I paid particular attention to when the lessons I was learning on my ride also could be applied metaphorically to my weight loss journey. It happened more often than you might imagine. It might seem cheesy but keep reading all the way to the end, there's a big punch line (in the sense of life just jabbing me with one of those "oh I'll show you" type things) It'll be worth it, I promise.

Without Further Ado...

What I learned on my 50 mile bike ride:

1. Make sure you have everything you need for your journey ready to go at the start. I was pretty well prepared with 3 liters (plus 20oz more) of water, a flat repair kit and pump, a bunch of trail mix, beef jerky, cheese sticks, cliff bars, and way more stuff than I actually needed.

I only ate trail mix all day after starting the morning with some cereal and bacon. I guess I kind of thought 50 miles was longer than it was. And I thought I'd be more hungry along the way since I burn about 800 calories per hour biking. But as it turned out, the amount of water was just right and the food was overkill.
 

2. Know where you're headed. 

They were nice enough to put this etched in stone map out for people on the trail. It looks like an awfully long way when you look at this one.

3. Break a long journey up into smaller steps. 

Going 50 miles seemed kind of nuts. But going 25 didn't seem so bad. And then I saw that I only had to go 3.7 to be at Durango! And 9.1 to be at Twin Springs! And so on... 

Having intermediate stops, particularly with snazzy names, makes it not feel like such a haul mentally to get to your destination. 

It took me no time at all to fly past Durango and I stopped for my first bathroom/rest break when I got to Graf. That was the furthest I had previously ridden so it was exciting moving forward from there into uncharted territory. 

Trail Marker where I started at "Heritage Pond" - Dyersville, 25 miles, here I come!

4. Don't forget to enjoy the scenery and take lots of pictures. 

It's really sad that these photos didn't come out anywhere close to capturing the beauty of what I saw. The countryside was just gorgeous and I stopped periodically to snap photos on my phone.  It's really important to not forget what's happening along the way. I am glad I wasn't so focused on just simply getting there to the detriment of my actual trip. 

Beautiful landscape. That's a corn field.

View of Cornfields and Farmhouse 5 miles outside Dyersville

5. Iowans are inherently afraid of raccoons.

I don't have a picture to go along with this one but I have a story. Not too far into my ride, I came across another biker. He zoomed past me when I had stopped to use the little girls room on the side of the trail. Luckily my pants were up by the time he came by. I got back on my bike and tried to catch up with him, actually excited to find someone else on the trail. Maybe I'd have company all the way? Well, I never caught up to him but within a few minutes he was screeching to a halt and turning around in the other direction. As he passed me again, this time opposite of me, I asked what was wrong and he pointed at a raccoon. Yes, there was a raccoon just chilling in the middle of the bike path but it didn't look that scary. I told him I was just going to ignore it and I rode by without an issue. I was a little worried that he knew something about raccoons that I don't and this one was going to chase me or lunge at me and latch itself onto my throat or something. But nothing of the sort happened and I finished my ride in peace. 

6. Putting a banana in the freezer overnight does NOT (contrary to logic) make it a tasty frozen potassium snack. Instead, it turns out looking like slime and will splat open like a banana grenade when dropped.

7. When determined to make it to your destination. "Road Closed" signs DO NOT apply to you.

Seriously, there were so many obstacles on my ride...everything from a utility truck blocking the path to road closure, to blockades, to raccoons, to a kid with Down's Syndrome (seriously, don't ask!) but I was not letting anything stop me from making it to the end of the road. I mean, it looked fine to me! I still have no idea why they put this block up. There was nothing warranting it.

8. You better have enjoyed the journey (remember number 4?) cause sometimes the destination is just a big empty parking lot with no picnic area, no bathrooms, no water fountain, no lake, and surrounded by nothing but corn fields. Seriously. This was the biggest bummer. I thought at the end of my 25 mile ride there would be something worth seeing but nope. Just corn.

Celebrating being on the other end of the trail. 25 miles to get back to Heritage Pond!

View of corn after riding 25 miles.

View of the parking lot at my halfway point. Dyersville, IA. Yep, worth the ride. 

9. The last 10% is always the hardest. Ain't that the truth! It was when I had 5 miles left that I started feeling the first real soreness in my muscles. It wasn't bad though. I could certainly make it five more miles.

10. Scratch that...the last 3 miles are the hardest.

After breezing through my day at a much quicker pace with less rest stops than I anticipated, I was on track to be back at my car a full 90 minutes before schedule. I was very proud of myself and was already patting myself on the back for a job well done. Then pedaling started getting kind of hard. And then I noticed a noise I hadn't before. I got off to make sure I wasn't dragging a tree, dead animal, water bottle, small human child, etc. and of course, my rear tire was flat.

With THREE miles left to ride, I had a flat tire. Mother fucker. Just like life to do that too, you know? Knocking me upside the head just when I'm feeling all confident and proud.

So, I stopped to try to fix the tire since I did have a repair kit and pump. And a nice middle-aged couple even stopped to offer their help but it was no use. The valve on the inner tube broke while we tried to find the puncture and patch it. I had no choice but to walk myself and the bike the last 3 miles home.

This was perhaps the most valuable lesson of the day. Bring a spare inner tube, yes, but that's not what I mean. What I mean is that...sometimes those last 3 miles are harder than the 47 previous ones.

Sometimes just when you think you're home free is when the real challenge begins. Believe me, it was a FIGHT not to abandon my bike and find a main road and call a taxi. Or call my friend to drive 20 minutes to come pick me up and take me back to my car. On top of the frustration of being so close and hitting a major snag, my left inner thigh muscle had really started hurting in those last few miles and every step I walked was painful. And you can only walk so far while dragging a flat-tired bike along with you. AND every time you forget for a moment that the bike is there, your leg rams full force into the pedal. I was close to crying. I had to take 2 rest breaks in those last 3 miles when I'd gone 10-15 miles between breaks all day. I felt nearly crushed by the distance still in front of me and every time a biker would come zooming by I would feel bitter and annoyed. But not finishing was not an option.

Sometimes the real accomplishment is how you finish the journey, not how you began it.

Sometimes it takes 5 times longer than you'd planned, or than you'd like, to complete the journey.

But ultimately I knew I was going to finish. I was going to get to say that I traveled on my own muscle from Dubuque to Dyersville and backand that I didn't quit when it got tough. I knew that if I kept putting one foot in front of the other that eventually I would complete my 50 miles even if it took a while and happened through sheer grit and determination.

This is so much like my weight loss journey, it's not even funny. This was like life saying "Hey, you want a metaphor? I'll give you one!"  It took me 9 months to lose 90 lbs and now almost 2 years later I've still got the last 20 to go. And I have to fight tooth and nail and be nearly perfect for each fraction of a pound.

The big question in my mind now is, how do I come to mental terms with my end goal? With the absolute certainty of reaching it no matter how long it takes? If I could just find that conviction, I would be unstoppable. I can do it when it comes to other journeys but this one seems so prone to just turning into an "Oh well, I've come so far, why do I need to go further?" Yesterday, I never seriously entertained the thought of finding another way to get home without completing my course. But for the past 2 years I've found every reason under the sun why it's ok to not finish what I started.

How do I find that missing element within myself? Or what does it mean if that element just isn't there and never materializes?

I have a lot to think about.

The 50 Mile Ride (Part 1 - intro)

2 weeks ago, while on vacation in Iowa, I discovered a trail that runs 25 miles between 2 cities. It's a really nice crushed limestone trail, flat for the most part, and mostly shaded. People walk, run, and bike this trail and it's well maintained with mile markers and even some very primitive restrooms along the way. I had brought my bike with me from home with the hope of enjoying it up here in Iowa so I took it out for a ride one day. I rode 5 miles down and 5 miles back, which seemed like a lot at the time cause I can't ever remember riding 10 miles before or at least being aware of having done so. But it was in fact very easy to do. I decided that day that I would make the entire 25 mile trip from Dubuque to Dyersville, resulting in a 50 mile ride. I started riding my bike every day for an hour and then a week ago I went on a 2 hour/23 mile trip on the trail. Having completed that and still feeling fine, I decided to just go for the 50 (with a week of 10 mile practice rides in between). This may sound crazy to other people. It pretty much sounded crazy to me too. I thought 50 miles would be a distance you'd really have to work up towards. But the more I rode, the easier going 10 miles felt and I figure if I could go 10 miles and then rest a little there's no reason I couldn't go 50 miles in one day. So yesterday I did, and here are the photos and travelogue to prove it. But first, I want to pause to talk about a few other (related) things. I have been following (more or less) the Medifast plan since July 29 now. Had been doing pretty well sticking to it or at least to a version of it that was workable for me. The lowest weight I'd seen on the scale was 184.6, which made me very happy, but days kept going by without any scale movement. I was discouraged and getting annoyed about that. That's normal for me though, just a part of life when I'm on a weight loss journey and it's to be expected. Doesn't mean I need to give up, I'm just saying yes, the frustration was there. One thing that isn't exactly normal though and that I haven't confessed to anyone until now is that ever since starting Medifast a few weeks ago, I have dreamed every single night that I had gone and eaten something off the plan. Some nights it was that I dreamed I'd eaten an apple. Other nights it was that I'd gone for chocolate or baked goods. But every morning, without fail, I'd wake up wondering if I had really done that before realizing it was just another dream. What this tells me is that my mind is way too worried about food. I mean preoccupied to the greatest extent. My brain is obsessed with good food, bad food, right food, wrong food, being on a plan or off it, being perfect or not. This is disturbing to me because this never happened even when I was in the midst of losing 90 lbs with my band. I wasn't dreaming about food and I really can't remember a time in my life where I have. Maybe once or twice in the past while on a restrictive diet but I'm talking about every single night, the same thing? No...this was definitely out of the ordinary. So, Sunday, knowing that my big ride was coming up on Tuesday and that I basically had no reserves of anything except fat to burn in my body, something in mind just kicked into gear and I started to want to eat everything. And I can recognize the difference between a craving that is irrational and just needs to be ignored and something that's coming from a different place. This was like a primal need. Like survival instinct. That's all I can call it. Sure, it might have been misguided but my body was shouting at me loud and clear that I needed sugar and carbs like I haven't felt in a really long time. I analyzed it a bit and decided to give into it because truth be told, I wanted to successfully complete my ride more than I wanted to be down on the scale this week. Thinking about it carefully, I knew that I've never asked my body to work that hard for that long as riding 50 miles would be. I estimated that I'd burn about 3600 calories (my heart rate monitor ended up telling me I burned 4,131). I would have to eat 5 days worth of medifast food to not be in a deficit there when you add my normal daily caloric needs to that. And who wants to eat 5 days of medifast food in one day anyway? I'm not saying I needed to eat 5,000 calories in advance of my bike ride, that's not the point. What I felt I needed was to have some reserve energy stores in my system so that I could actually complete my ride without fear of passing out or having to just eat medifast food continuously the whole ride. If someone knows more about exercise physiology than me, I'd love to know your opinion. But needless to say, I did go a bit crazy on Sunday with eating all sorts of things I hadn't eaten in ages (and it was FUN and amazing, by the way, and really scratched an itch to just eat and enjoy it) but moreover, I was barely hungry on Monday and by Tuesday, I didn't need to eat much of anything to sustain me on my ride. I made some trail mix with nuts, granola, dried berries, and chocolate covered almonds and I brought a bunch of other stuff with me like beef jerky and cliff bars but I really wasn't hungry at all on the ride and just had trail mix every couple of hours to make sure I had energy. I could definitely feel the difference as time went on and I needed to refuel. So where does that leave me? Well, this morning my scale was at 188. I know that it's inflated not only from the sheer volume of food I've consumed over the past 3 days, the fact that a lot of it was carbs which add on "water weight", and also the amount of water I actually drank. I drank 5 liters yesterday. On a normal day I drink between 2-3. I know it's going to take a few days for my body to recover from this incredible task and maybe I'll end up back down at 184. Or maybe not and it takes another week to get there. I am ok either way. I realized something very important in the past few days. I have goals that do not revolve around the weight on the scale. Being healthy, being fit, being able to just decide to go bike 50 miles and DOING IT. That makes me incredibly happy. It doesn't make me feel less accomplished because I'm still a bit pudgy. But in terms of where I'm headed from here, I am back on "the plan" this morning and I am not craving or desiring food that I shouldn't. It was great to get it all out of my system in the few previous days and now feel ready to be back on that path. One other thing I'm realizing... I think I need to stop seeing myself as the fat person I once was. I often find myself thinking things like "Hey, I did that pretty well for a fat person." But that's just not true anymore. I'm sure there are plenty of people who are not in good enough shape to go on a 50 mile bike ride. And, without more than 2 weeks of practice at that! I should be proud of myself and grateful to my body for taking care of me and allowing me to do things that I want. That's the way I'm feeling right now.

A slip-up as a victory

I don't know what came over me yesterday. It was my 11th day of trying to follow the Medifast plan very closely and it was working out well for me. I had lost 7lbs in the first week but I had stayed there for the next 3 days so I guess that was getting kind of frustrating. I never planned to go off of the plan to the extent I did but something just came over me and made me think it was a good idea. I also was more hungry than normal yesterday, probably because I had ridden my bike first thing in the morning. And I was also a bit bored and restless, which never helps. The combination of factors definitely added up and lead to this incident. I ate 1 spoonful of nutella, a super thin slice of a spice-bread, and 3 bites of apple pie. All in all, maybe it was an extra few hundred calories, if that. As soon as I had my little "binge" my first thought was that I had ruined my day and really should go down the road to Dairy Queen and get an ice cream. And then, my second thought was that maybe I had fallen off the wagon a little but it wasn't THAT bad and eating more stuff I know I don't really want wasn't going to make me feel better. This is a huge success in my book because I really cannot remember a time in the past that I've diverged from whatever my "plan" is and then gotten right back on track like it never happened. Normally it would be a spiral of junk food with the promise to myself that I'd get back on board the next day. And of course that one day would have undone all the progress I'd made up to that point and I'd be starting over and discouraged. This time was so different! Something shifted and did what I knew I should do instead of what my silly emotions were telling me in the moment. I woke up this morning and weighed and I am back to 187.4, from 186.8 where I'd been holding steady for a few days. But so what? I'm recommitted to my plan more than ever today and the best part is having the experience of straying slightly and not letting it become a runaway train. Each time I can do this it will make the next time a little easier and more natural. And of course there will be a next time. There will always be another time when I decide to eat something that isn't the best choice. But I can decide to do that and then continue eating well or I can decide to do that and let my entire day, week, or life go to "I-don't-care-land". I think learning to do the former is a much better option. So, I am really happy with my slip up experience and proud of myself.

Something to be proud of

The past 10 days I have not been perfect but I have been really, really good and feeling better and better about myself all the time so it's something to celebrate. Most importantly, I seem to have rediscovered that "will power" or whatever it is when my head is in the right place to do this. I feel as though I am back on the right track and that's really important to me. I see myself differently when I look in the mirror than I did just a week ago. Being in control of what I'm eating has a way of doing that to me. I wish that the scale would move more quickly. Don't I always wish that? I weighed in on Sunday 7/29 at 194.4 and today I'm 186.6. It's been so long since it consistently moved in the downward direction that I've forgotten some of the patience it takes to go a few days without any numeric progress. I keep reminding myself that as long as it's staying the same or moving down at all, then I must be doing something right. Last night I was lying in bed and could feel my ribs. I really think this is the first time in my life I've experienced that. For one thing, it's weird. I started thinking, "are they really that close to the surface that I can feel each individual bone? I'm not that thin. I still feel as though I've got plenty of padding to be lost. But maybe not in my ribcage area at least. I've probably said this before but it always strikes me as interesting and amusing that despite losing any amount of weight, there is just nothing I can do to change my large bone structure. Not that I'd want to but it just goes so counter to what I always believed. I thought if I could just lose enough weight, I'd be tiny. One of the things hitting home for me is that I am never going to be tiny. Learning not just to "accept" but to admire my structural largeness is an evolving journey but I think I'm getting better at it.

Recommitting

This blog is one of the tools I attribute my success to when I first got banded. Writing in it daily or nearly daily helped me stay accountable to anyone who might be reading and helped me process all that I was going through as my weight began to drop. I look at how very far I've come and yet I see how quickly I could slide back into old patterns of thought and behavior and easily be as heavy as I was 2 years ago. But no, that's not true, because the person I am now would not allow that to happen. The months since my tummy tuck have had their highs and lows but one thing I haven't written about or shared with many people is that I encountered a band complication back in March at my 2 year Band-iversary and had to get about 1/2 the fluid taken out. What happened was that I went for an upper GI study which I like to do once a year to make sure my band is still in place and working and it turned out that my esophagus was majorly dilated and that it was refusing to push food down into my stomach. I didn't have any symptoms of this (normally you'd see reflux, inability to eat solid foods, night coughing or vomiting, etc.) The only thing that I could point to as a symptom was the feeling like I needed to burp after eating or drinking anything, even small bites. Turns out that was the spasms in my esophagus as it tried to push food down and failed. I had felt this for a while and it never bothered me, I just took it as part of the feeling of having the band. As it turns out, you shouldn't really be feeling anything with the band. So my surgeon took out a good deal of my fluid, leaving me with 3ccs. The hope was that after a couple of months my esophagus would return to normal and start functioning. To be frank, this scared the shit out of me. At only 2 years out, with 75% of my excess weight lost, and after undergoing major cosmetic surgery and looking better than I could ever remember, my whole world could be ruined or so it felt. My thoughts immediately went to the worst case scenario of having to lose my band and either get a revision surgery or nothing at all, which would inevitable lead to weight gain. The good news is that after 3 months, I got another upper GI and everything was back to normal. A month later, I went back to my surgeon to see about putting more fluid in. I weighed 192 on his scale (same as my home one) and I felt like crap. I think the last time he saw me I had been 181 on his scale. To face your bariatric surgeon with a weight gain is not a happy feeling. Luckily, Dr. A didn't panic and tried to convince me not to either. With 68% of my excess weight lost, I am still double the "average" results for Lap-Band so Dr. A said to focus on losing that 10lbs again and then maintaining and not getting into trouble with my anatomy. Sounds reasonable, right? But no, it's not enough for me. The past month I have been trying so hard to just eat a balanced variety of foods, high on the protein, using good carbs like quinoa and hemp bagels. But it doesn't seem to matter. I spent from June 3rd to July 20th exercising heavily 5-6 days a week and tracking what I ate very well. The numbers should have seen me lose weight but they didn't. And I found it hard to stay on track for even a day or two without finding some compelling reason to cheat and have a little of this or that at work where the junk food grew on trees. I found myself feeling more and more out of control and I swear I will NEVER see 200 on the scale again so when I reached 195 I kind of snapped. Sure, it wasn't "really" 195, as I can keep telling myself every time I got a little bit higher. All it would take is a few days of good eating to bounce back down to my accurate weight because my body holds onto pounds like crazy when I'm eating carbs at all really and all the more so if it's heavy in sugar and processed stuff. But even if it isn't "really" 195, it's probably "really" 192 and that doesn't make me feel any better. That's it, I kind of snapped. I pulled out the medifast food I had put away in the pantry and found I had a little more than a week's worth. I began following it on Sunday (5 days ago) and I have lost 7 lbs since then but again, it's that normal water weight of starting a drastic diet program. I am back at 187, a number I am infinitely familiar with being at and remember a month when I was stuck here in the past. It's really funny how my mind works. Now that I see the scale moving in the right direction again I feel more motivated, I feel thinner even though I'm not, and I feel like success is possible. It's funny how opposite of that I feel when I see a higher number even though nothing on the outside has changed. Speaking of nothing changing, that's the weird thing about all this. My clothes still all fit, though some pants are more snug than I remember but I would have thought that gaining more than 10 lbs would have made a big difference. I guess it explains why on the other side, I can lose 10 lbs and not see a big difference. The difference is definitely there in my mind though as I perceive myself so vastly different based on how I am doing both with following a diet plan and the results on the scale. So here's the thing... I have been living at 1200 calories a day for 5 days now. This doesn't feel like starving and using the medifast food, I am actually able to eat stuff that resembles tasty things even if it's not really. I have been eating a bit more meat protein than the plan calls for but until I stop losing weight, I don't see any harm in that. So far I've been eating 4 medifast meals and a bit more real protein instead of 5 medifast meals and just 1 serving of protein a day. So far, so good right? Well the BIGGEST issue for me is sticking with something. I have got to stick with this for a few months to be able to see the change I want. I have got to believe that the exact same way I lost 85 lbs can work for another 30. My body hasn't magically changed into a machine that refuses to lose weight. Not any more than it once was that but at 85lbs more than I am now. I used to believe that I just couldn't lose weight. And then I did. And then I hit 180 and I started to believe I couldn't again. I know that my mind is my most powerful ally or enemy in this battle and I am determined to make it work for me again. So, here I am, telling the vast internet that I have slipped up, I have regained (which I said I would never do) but I am catching myself before it turns into a problem and I am recommitting to implement the changes every single day that will lead to my success. Please, hold me to it. I have a bad habit of breaking my word to myself but I'm 5 days strong and I want to be able to continue. I wish I knew what the trigger is that makes my head snap in and out of the game so easily but whatever it is, it's happened now. I will weigh 160 by October 31. Possibly sooner. Stay tuned for updates to hear about how I'm staying on track.

Surgery day + 6 - 10

That whole writing daily thing? That went well, as you can see.

My 6th day post-tummy tuck was an amazing day. We went to the mall and I got my eyebrows threaded and then we walked around a bit more and despite by best intentions, I gave into the temptations to try on clothes. Well, once we rearranged all my drains and I tried on a new top and saw how amazing I looked, I had to get it of course.



I got home with a couple of new things and tried them on for my dad. I was so happy with the way I looked that I started crying. It was kind of funny. I just couldn't contain all my emotions and I've never in my life cried with joy at how good I look. I mean, I've thought I looked pretty good in the past but this is different. This is like, holy shit! Every fantasy I've ever had about being able to wear clothes without rolls of fat and bulges where they aren't supposed to be has come true! How do you react to that if not by bursting into tears of joy? I am so grateful to God or the Universe, the Powers That Be, and everyone in between that I have been able to make it to this day. I never want to despise my body again. I never want to treat it badly, fill it with crap foods, abuse it with lack of sleep or water. I want to take care of myself now that I see what I want to see when I look in the mirror. I know that might sound messed up because we should all want to take that kind of care of ourselves regardless but I don't know...something just feels different. I still can't believe this silhouette is me. It's kind of like seeing a stranger in the mirror and that's weird!

Post op day 7 was as rough as day 6 was good. I was tired from the shopping the night before but somehow managed to stay up way later than I needed to. So I slept a lot on day 7. Also, I started feeling claustrophobic here at my dad's place and physically even though I mostly feel like my normal self again I can't do everything my normal self would so it's frustrating.

Post op day 8: I see my surgeon again. This was supposed to be a happy day because I just knew I'd be getting some drains removed. Been carrying around 5 little hand grenade sized plastic drains coming out of my body from every direction with tubes. Not only are they annoying but they are prohibitive to wearing nice clothes and have to be emptied several times daily. It's just gross and no fun all around. So when I saw my doctor and he only took out 1 (I was expecting 2 to come out) it made me feel quite a bit more down. He also started talking about my belly button and how it might not have survived. I had an umbilical hernia repair done at the same time of my TT and the loss of blood supply to the tissues might have damaged them beyond repair. He said he thought it would pull through but it looked pretty nasty. When asked by my mom, I told her that my belly button looked like a portal to hell that was ready to swallow up the rest of the world. It's that gross and black. So I left my surgeon's office not feeling very well at all. I felt like I could have just started crying on the spot but I waited till I was home to let a few tears out. It wasn't bad. Just enough to do whatever that magical thing crying does for a woman. I felt better. I kept telling myself that it would all be better soon, I'll be healed before I know it, and at least I got one drain out which served not only to eliminate one of the five annoying things hanging off me but also allayed my fears about the drain removal itself. Turns out it barely felt like anything and I'd been worried about the discomfort involved in that.

Post op day 9 started out really well. My dad and stepmom took me out to lunch with an elderly relative who I like and we had a good meal and a good time. Unfortunately I had only eaten a protein shake for breakfast and my salmon lunch filled me up very quickly (more so than normal, maybe 2oz of meat.) So when my stepmom took my to Macy's after lunch for some shopping that I thought I was up for, my body said otherwise. I was almost immediately in a bad mood and it wasn't helped by the idiocy of a few salespeople. My stepmom was really gung ho about me getting some leggings and tall boots and a sweater kind of outfit. We took everything to the dressing room but I was just really uncomfortable physically and didn't even want to try it all on. The drains were always in the way and I was starting to hurt and most of all, I felt extremely fat which I know is cause I'm still swollen but it just wasn't a good combination. I still wanted to get the items though and my motto is "you can always return it." When we got home and after drinking some water, I was definitely feeling better so I tried everything on together again. The privacy of my own room helps in terms of rearranging all the drains and I was able to get a good idea of how the clothes would look. So, yes, my stepmom was right. And when it comes to fashion she rarely is wrong. I also got everything on a great sale and my dad pitched in a little. So even though the shopping experience wasn't the greatest, the results are happy. I came home and lounged till it was dinner time and then went to bed at a decent hour. Good thing I did since I'd get woken up before 8 by a phone call...

Post op day 10 began with my phone ringing. I thought I must have slept till noon cause people don't tend to call me early. It was my surgeon's office calling to ask about my belly button (how sweet!) I told them I wasn't sure there was any improvement, it still looked pretty nasty to me. They asked if I wanted to come in and of course I did because it occurred to me that a couple of the drains might have made enough progress to be removed before the weekend. As it turns out, I was right and I am the proud owner of only TWO drains now. In other good news, the belly button isn't as bad as I thought. It still looks nasty but the doctor things it's "not dead yet" and still has a chance. He's got me doing antibiotic ointment, saline dressings, and a heavier antibiotic than I was previously on, all to keep up hope for my poor belly button.

Today has gone very well. I haven't done much but I'm still tired - a sure sign that I need to go to bed early tonight. I have lots of plans for the weekend with family and I see my doctor again on Monday. I am hoping he will take out one more drain then but I know it might be expecting too much. I am resigned to take things as slow as needed to heal properly but I really miss home (had a lot of homesick sadness on day 7) and as soon as the drains are all out I can fly back. I will have to come back for a followup a couple of weeks later but I'd rather pay another ticket than stay for an extra 2 weeks where I hardly know anyone and am away from my partner, dog, horse, friends, and job.

Going out to dinner in a few minutes with my uncle and cousin. Wearing one of my new outfits for the first time.

Surgery day + 5

Today was amazing. I felt energy and strength like I haven't since before surgery and I put on a pair of old size 14 jeggings that fit and buttoned over all my swelling and garments so I could actually go out looking like a normal person instead of an unemployed sweatpants wearing slob. Sorry to anyone out there who is actually unemployed and wears sweatpants. Just not being able to wear normal clothes for the past 5 days has been getting me down and making me feel like a bum.

The day started off well when I tore off all of my binding garments and actually took some pictures of my new body because until I saw it, I wasn't sure it was really there. I know it still looks awful now cause I'm swollen and bruised and have Frankenstein looking stitches all over me but I can finally see the future instead of only seeing the past when I look at myself in the mirror. In my jeans, I noticed every time I saw myself in a mirror today that I really do have a small hour-glass shape going on where my body narrows at the waist and widens at the hips. Amazing! It is the first time in my life!

Also good today was time spent with my grandmother, my great aunt, my little cousin, and grandfather. I got a manicure and the Vietnamese guy doing my nails flirted with me. "Your arms are strong" he said while massaging my hands. "Yeah, I lift weights" I told him. "I bet your arms look good when you lift weights" He said in almost incomprehensible English. "Hmmm...yeah, I guess." Was the only thing I could imagine was an appropriate response. "I could teach you kung fu." He said. "I'm only in town for a week and I just got out of the hospital so I can't." I told him. Hmm... there's a pick up line if I ever heard one. Good on him for trying though!

On the downside, 2 meals with my grandparents is enough to remind me why I ended up 273 lbs to begin with. I am really proud of myself for both staying calm and cheerful throughout dinner and eating only what I needed to and not letting the pressure get to me. So what is this mealtime nightmare you ask?

Let's start with lunch. I arrive at my grandmother's to find her and my great-aunt ready to sit down to eat. There are bowls of "salad from a bag" and several dressings on the table (all of them fat free) and she is heating up the main course. The salad, while I'm not complaining about it being from a bag, was just not the good quality lettuce I'm used to. It was something to the effect of iceberg with shredded carrots. Not even worth me eating and taking up room in my tiny stomach. I poured some dressing on and poked around with it to be polite. Lucky for me, I'm on the looser side with my band and eating some lettuce wasn't the meal-ruiner it used to be.

On to the main course... Turns out lunch was a) leftover rotisserie chicken, b) a Healthy choice pot roast/baked potato/carrots/apple tart frozen dinner c) some collard greens, d) some tomatoes and okra, e) dinner rolls. We were encouraged to take a bit of everything. And when I say encouraged, it was quite a montage of "Do you want some of ___, can you eat ___?, are you sure you don't want some ____, come on, have some ___" I took what looked like the moistest part of the chicken and a teaspoon of each "vegetable" just to taste a bite. I ended up being quite satisfied with my chicken on a dinner roll, so I can't complain about the quality of lunch. It was just odd. Especially considering we were supposed to go out to some nice ethnic food festival thing but my grandmother decided against it because they probably wouldn't have anything that was "on her diet." Yes, at 74 she is still watching her weight. Really, all in all, lunch wasn't that bad. The conversation was nice and I enjoy socializing with my grandmother and aunt. It was dinner that turned more ugly than I would ever show on the outside.

My little cousin (5 years younger) arrived just before 6 and we decided to go to our favorite place which is Thai but also serves sushi. It's a place I could eat at every night when I'm visiting home and never tire of. In all the different places I've lived I haven't found a restaurant that quite compares. Good thing my grandparents like it to so asking to go there is never a hard sell. But one dinner with them brings back all these emotions and memories of growing up this way and it's somewhat disturbing to recount.

To start, we walk in and I immediately excused myself to the restroom while the other 3 were seated. I have been drinking a lot of water, as always, so constantly in need. Plus, sitting down and being able to mess with my drains is always helpful so I take care of that. By the time I returned to the table I found they had already ordered appetizers. Some vegetarian spring rolls (called "egg rolls" by my grandparents) and edamame (which they called "wasabis" - yes plural). They had ordered the edamame without salt which usually comes on the outside of it for flavor, understandable and not too crazy of a request. My cousin and I decided to split 3 sushi rolls between the 2 of us (oh, I should mention she is banded too) and my grandparents ordered a fountain of wonton soup and a rack of lamb to split. From this moment on, as food started arriving, the table was an overcrowded 3-ring circus of food induced chaos. My grandfather: the ringmaster. Divvying up portions to everyone and helping himself to anything he found appealing no matter whose plate it was on.

The spring rolls and edamame arrived first: 3 spring rolls cut into 2 pieces each. I watched in a bit of horror (truth be told) as he took one of the halves to his small appetizer plate, dumped the entire bowl of sweet-chili dipping sauce on top of it, and attacked it with a knife and fork. I'm not kidding. Attacked it! It was barbaric and I felt sorry for the poor spring roll. The speed at which he did this allowed no other person at the table an opportunity to partake in the dipping sauce or even savor the aesthetic appeal of 3 symmetrical spring rolls on a plate. I felt cheated in a weird way. One of my first thoughts was, "Hey, I like that sauce...I might have actually wanted to use some." Alternately with, "What a pig!" and "Seriously? Am I seeing this? What normal person acts like that?" And then I just found myself laughing at myself and feeling silly. I no more need a spring roll or dipping sauce than I need another hole in my head. But it was an interesting observation that merely eating in the presence of someone so aggressive with his food made me want to be faster and more greedy than I ever am under normal circumstances.

Next, the soup came out. We thought it was only for 2 but turned out to be about 5 bowls worth. The waitress brought us each a bowl and my grandfather portioned out some for himself and my grandmother. My cousin went next. I really didn't care for soup but I took a ladle of the broth and a wonton because honestly, it's easier than protesting that I didn't want any. Saying you don't want something in this family is somehow insulting even while wanting to eat something is usually frowned upon. It's a paradox I will never understand. My grandmother has a specific habit of commenting on the health of any food she may be eating, probably to not make herself feel so bad about it. So during the soup portion of the meal we got to hear about how light and healthy the broth was and how it was filled with cabbage and she should add more cabbage to her own broths because it's so healthy. I zoned out for a few minutes while everyone enjoyed (I assume) their soup.

Before we had even finished (ok, before I had finished) our soup, the main course arrived. Rack of lamb with a towering pile of fried rice for my grandparents and 2 plates of sushi (1 roll and 2 rolls accordingly) for myself and my cousin. I took 8 pieces total, knowing I could eat about 6, and left the other 14 for her, knowing my grandfather would likely poach off one of the rolls that didn't contain raw fish. He did, but only one piece which actually surprised me. Let me just say that I enjoyed my sushi immensely. I ate as slowly as I could and chewed it to oblivion which I have come to enjoy doing over my nearly 2 years since banding. I ate 5 of my 8 pieces and knew I'd have to take the rest home. While I tried to be in my own zen place and really enjoy the food to the fullest extent (and succeeded for the most part) I couldn't help but notice my grandfather's behavior from start to finish of his meal. For one thing, he eyed my cousin with a disapproving scowl nearly the whole time. He once in a while smiled at me. I wonder if this had anything to do with his earlier remarks about not recognizing me, me being only a "shadow of what I used to be", saying how great he thought I looked, and asking if my dad was happy with my new body (umm...inappropriate much?) I can only speculate. I don't know. My poor cousin does hear it from family members who compare us against each other since I lost a good deal more than her from my banding. She looks great and happy and I think she is beautiful and doesn't need to change a thing unless she wants to. I think her band will help her maintain her weight for life if she doesn't want to lose more and that's a real gift in and of itself. But anyway, I stray... Back to the meal. As soon as his plate came - oh well actually, as soon as the waitress brought 2 other plates to eat off of, and another trip to the kitchen for serving utensils, - my grandfather attacked the dish with a military-like precision. He gave my grandmother her portion of lamb and rice and then started doing his own. What I noticed throughout the rest of the meal is that he continued to come back to the large serving plate for more bits of this or that while my grandmother picked slowly at what was on her plate. I am not saying he didn't give her adequate food. No, there was just this authoritarian air that made me uncomfortable. I forgot that as soon as our sushi arrived he also started asking (well, that's putting it politely) for a piece of the roll without the raw fish.)

Now here is the most significant takeaway from the meal for me. I am normally very unattached to food. In my everyday life it's just food. I can take or leave most anything and always offer my friends and guests the "best" pieces because honestly, I can't eat so much anyway and I want them to enjoy it. Since getting banded, I tend to pick off other people's plates, take the scraps they don't want rather than wasting money to get myself a full dish (everyone is cool with this or I wouldn't do it.) So in general I'm just not possessive over food. But I wasn't always this way. It's been so long since I was I'd nearly forgotten but tonight a long buried instinct came flooding back. When our sushi arrived I split it between my cousin and I (not evenly, as I knew I couldn't eat as much as she could and didn't want to appear glutinous) but nonetheless I took what I wanted and made sure it was clearly "mine" as soon as possible. I silently begged my grandfather not to start taking any of "my" sushi even though as I already said, I had 3 more pieces than I was capable of eating. I fought myself the entire meal to eat slowly and carefully and not gulp it down out of fear of it being taken away from me should I not eat fast enough. The fact that that was actually a fear in my mind I had to fight against is truly messed up! I realized... this is why food became more than food to me. Food was such an implement of control in my childhood that no wonder I (a control freak) hoarded it, sneaked it, assigned value above and beyond what it did for me biologically to it. And I also realized that in this game, "winning" meant keeping what was "mine" despite the efforts of others to take it away. Eating all "my" food just to spite the person across the table who told me I shouldn't. Wow, how profound. How f-ed up! I hope I can continue to move towards a healthy and loving relationship with food as something of nourishment and enjoyment but not something to be controlled or used to control others. I am very proud of myself for being able to do so tonight despite being in a situation that brought out the opposite in me. Despite it all, I ate only what I actually wanted to eat and stopped when I was satisfied despite the urge to go further if only to insure it would be mine. It's such a drastic difference from how I normally am and how I am when surrounded by people for whom food is simply food and there's no need to go into predator mode to make sure I get my fair share. Now that I can see this for what it is, I think I will have an easier time controlling this behavioral urge in the future.

Anyway, the night ended fine. I got dropped back at my dad's house after dinner and have been relaxing online and writing since then. Writing is so therapeutic, I'm happy I could get this all out before it's time for another pain killer (which means sleep!)

Surgery day +4

I slept in this morning after quite an active day yesterday. You know what really sucks? The most painful thing I'm feeling is in my lower back from having to walk hunched over everywhere! I mean seriously! I just had major surgery and my sore muscles from the position I have to be in are what's bothering me? Arg...

Tomorrow I am going out to lunch with my grandmother and great-aunt/uncle. I know from yesterday that even my normally very loose size 12 jeans won't fit because of all the swelling and extra stuff I have around me. If I had any sense, I would ask to go out and get some stretchy jeans but I guess I'm going to tough it out and either wear sweat pants or just wear the jeans like I did yesterday, unbuttoned.

One really strange thing is that my appetite hasn't come back yet. I've been trying to get in enough protein bars and shakes so I'm nutritionally sound. Supplementing that with chicken soup and fruit when I feel like eating anything at all. Tonight I am planning on trying some ice cream that we bought. How could I not want ice cream?

I cannot wait to feel back to normal and have the energy to run around and do things. I miss being active and I miss being able to stretch out on the bed and feel all of my muscles instead of being squished on a recliner. But the recliner is very comfortable so it could be much worse if I didn't have it.

I am very ambitious but hoping that I will be able to get a few drains removed on Wednesday at my next post-op appointment. These things are so annoying. I guess I'm just feeling overall annoyed at the moment! Haha. That's what happens after a few days of recovery. I can see myself getting into trouble soon on online forums where I will start to cuss people out.

Surgery day +3

I woke up early this morning, afraid it was the middle of the night, but it was actually 6am. For the first time, cause I had no choice, I got out of my recliner by myself and went to the bathroom! Knowing now that I can get out of the recliner alone without too much trouble is a big relief. After the bathroom I decided to take 1 full loritab to get me back to sleep and pre-load me with some pain killer for the 8am drive to the doctor's office. I had a follow up appointment at 9am which went very well. I only wish he had wanted to remove 2 of my drains but he'll do that on Wednesday when I see him next. The car ride was easier than I anticipated... in fact everything has really been easier than I anticipated so far. At the office, the surgeon and his 2 assistants were very vocal about their pleasure with my results and me healing so far. I can't wait till I have some legitimate before/after pics to show but everything right now is still too gruesome and swollen to consider "after." But we can all see the potential for what it's going to be. I know I'm going to be so happy in a couple of months when all the swelling is down and I can wear my size 10 pants without a big bulge coming over the top. I can't help but think this surgery is going to change my life more than the first one did. Probably equally so.

Anyway, there isn't a whole lot to report about today except that things are going well. My drains are draining, I'm walking hunched over but without pain, I went to costco and whole foods and took a few car rides and now I'm back at my dad's house enjoying some chicken soup and thinking about a nap. I've also not taken any more loritab since 6am. I've done advil a couple of times since then but it would be so awesome not to be on narcotics except maybe to help me sleep comfortably through the night for a few days still.

I'm not bored yet, amazingly. Between talking to people online, web browsing, reading, tv, and sleeping, I am just enjoying being off work and being taken care of. I think yesterday was a real turning point for me in the healing and I know I'll say this over and over again but it's only going to get better from here.

I don't think I'll be riding a bike at day 6 like I was last time but I'll be up and at'em as soon as I can be.

Surgery day +2

I am sitting at my old room at my dad's house, in a comfy recliner, with tv and internet. I cannot complain. I've got pain pills that do their job and people taking care of me. I am very lucky indeed! The past couple of days have been rough - my surgery had me under the knife for 8 hours! A lot more than I had anticipated. But hopefully the results will really be worth it. In addition to the abdominoplasty (tummy tuck) I was expecting, I also had a small umbilical hernia repair done and at the last minute consultation with my surgeon, he suggested excising some skin from my upper chest area. I.e. my "side boobs" are now gone! I have only a preliminary picture of how my abdomen looks from the first time the surgeon removed the binding to change dressings. I certainly cannot believe it's actually me.

I would love to write about the whole experience but there isn't that much to tell. Got to the hospital at 6am on Tuesday and left around 6pm on Wednesday. That whole time is just a blur and I'm amazed it went as smoothly as it did. I credit a lot of that to my friends and family keeping me in their thoughts and prayers. I felt very surrounded by love and that does make a difference.

Now I am just lounging around trying to stay comfortable. The binders are TIGHT and can be a little hard to breathe. I ordered 2 from a site called makemeheal.com and am hoping to try out the zippered one later today and see if it's as comfortable as the reviews of it claim while still giving the amount of compression I need.

The most annoying thing so far is probably these drains. Ick! I am doing better than I thought though. Dealing with my own fluids isn't as bad as I had imagined. And I'm not draining all that much which is supposedly a good thing.

Here is the picture, it's a very preliminary one and I'm sure I'll have more and better ones tomorrow.



It doesn't look like much but to anyone who's known me and my bulging belly this is quite a difference!

T-Minus 31 and counting

T as in Tummy Tuck.

Yes, I've been absent from writing on here for a while. I need to go back and finish the posts where this idea was brewing many, many months ago. But for now the best I can manage is just to start fresh in the present moment and tell it as it's happening.

So here I am in my "five star hotel" also known as Dad's house and in about 31 hours I will be getting sedated and rolled into what I hope to be the last surgery I need or want for a very long time.

I have come a really long way in the past couple of years but what hasn't come very far is my self image, and not for lack of trying, but due to my cursed midsection that won't go away or shrink any further regardless of what I do. Sorry belly but you've got to go. I never thought I'd want plastic surgery and definitely never thought I'd be able to afford it. But an ironic turn of events over the summer left me with a pile of money I wasn't expecting (in the form of severance pay from a job that eliminated my position - don't worry, I found a new on immediately) so all of a sudden, the idea of getting rid of this last troublesome spot that irks me endlessly became a reality.

Of course, that's only half the story. To actually be able to afford it I soon found out I'd either have to do some medical tourism to Mexico or use my mom's first cousin in Alabama who is a very well regarded plastic surgeon...it just so happens Alabama pricing is a lot less than the Mid-atlantic region. Problem solved! Some people might think it's weird to have a cousin operating on them but not me. He's a great surgeon and I get the perk of being home in Alabama, seeing family I never get to see, and I think recuperating away from home is kind of cool even if it's not Mexico.

I'll be down here for 3 weeks or if everything goes extremely well and they can take out my drains a little earlier, just over 2. Tomorrow is my pre-op testing and consultation and then Tuesday 5am I check into the hospital. I assume my surgery is around 7am.

There is so much I could write about having this procedure, what it means to me, how far I feel I've come and how this is the final step in the process I started years ago. But I'm kind of tired and I know I'll have lots of time sitting in bed in the next few weeks. So for now I'm going to savor my 2nd to last night of not being in pain. Hopefully it'll be just like last time and get easier every day post op.

I'll keep writing when there's anything to tell, assuming I have time and energy.

Finally back in the green zone

Sometimes I truly am my own worst enemy.

Despite telling myself I would never do this and jeopardize my health (and luck with the band) I found out recently that I have been living in a too-tight place known to my doctor as "the red zone" where the amount I can eat it so little that it leads me to maladaptive eating behavior. I had started thinking this might be the case months ago but always had a reason why it wasn't true. You know, I take too big of bites, I eat too quickly, I eat past the point of satisfaction. Those things may have been true once in a while but the more common truth of the matter was that I could physically manage to eat so little in the mornings, and even till about 3pm, that 1) I found myself extremely hungry most of the day even with the physical inability to consume anything else; 2) I found it impossible to resist foods I knew would go down more easily in favor of the better/healthier foods; and 3) by the time my band loosened up in the late afternoon, I had thrown all caution to the wind and would eat whatever I could manage. Yes, my 2 week experiment on medifast helped keep this under control a bit but I did have a very hard time keeping to that plan even for a day.

The number of times I would get stuck and end up regurgitating had been steadily once or twice a week for about 4 weeks when I decided I'd had enough. Sure the fear of being able to eat more and gain more weight was in my mind but rationally I knew that I couldn't keep living like that. So I had an appointment scheduled with Dr. A on 8/19 and I had made up my mind that I would ask for a small unfill.

When he asked me if I was having problems I replied, honestly, that I haven't been able to eat a wide variety of foods. That fruits and vegetables give me a hard time and that I want to be looser so I can make better food choices. He was fine with this and took out .5 CC, I believe. So now I'm back to 4.75 instead of 5.25 and it's been a world of difference!

A few days after my unfill, I wrote this post to my lapband forum friends on oh.com.

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Have any of you ever been so tight that you can simultaneously feel very physically hungry and physically unable to eat another bite? What did you do? Did you resort to foods you knew would go down easier?

I have to give a shout out to Jean for encouraging me to get a small unfill, which I finally did last Friday. I had been on the fence about it for months, to be honest. I have maintained my weight between 180-183 (a 90-93lb loss) since January of 2011 but the struggle has been one with myself to keep eating nutritiously even when the stuff I should be eating is the most difficult.

I've managed through sheer determination not to gain any weight but when I am honest with myself I have to admit I've been avoiding healthier foods in favor of ones easier to get down.

It really hit me when I regurgitated nearly every time I tried salad or fresh fruit but could eat an unlimited quantity of cupcakes...I really need to get this thing loosened.

It hasn't even been a week yet but I'm so happy I did! For the past few days I've been eating a wide variety of foods including fruits, and haven't had any PB/regurgitating/puking or even close. (This had become about a once a week occurance for me in the recent past.) All the slow and careful eating skills I've learned over the past 18 months are actually working and I'm not eating more than I should but I'm eating ENOUGH so I don't feel like I'm on the verge of passing out and go running for the first easy to eat food I can. It's an amazing feeling.

After living off 1200 calories a day, mostly because I couldn't eat much of anything till 3pm anyway, I am working on having a well rounded diet of 1600 a day with protein at every meal and snack. I hope not to gain weight (I really shouldn't since I burn about 2400 a day to the best I can calculate) but it'll be nice to just maintain in a healthy manner if that's all this allows.

One of the best things so far is being able to have eggs for breakfast and not be hungry 2 hours later!

Anyway, I wanted to share all of this because who knows if there are others out there going through the same thing. I thought for the last few months that the frustrations I was having were all my fault for not chewing well enough or eating slowly enough and I was afraid of going back to being pre-band hungry. But I still have 4.75ccs in my band (down from 5.25) and I'm remembering how easy it was to eat right and lose weight back when I was at this level previously.

Lesson learned! Don't be afraid to go to your doctor and get an unfill. If it doesn't make things better you can always go back. But being that tight is not what this is supposed to be like.

Shifting priorities and new decisions

It probably would do me good to re-read everything I've written here from the beginning. I know it would help me gain perspective and see how truly far I've come. At the moment, I feel pretty much like "I've lost 93 lbs and I've got nothing to show for it" which isn't TRUE but because the one aspect of my body that I most wanted to change through this whole process has changed the least, it feels true.

I've been talking to my therapist for months now about the idea of plastic surgery to fix my midsection. At first I thought I was really messed up about my body image and needed to learn to accept everything as it is. And I tried that. And I guess if I didn't have the capability to change things to make myself happier then I'd have to settle for that. But he asked me one night why I didn't just have the plastic surgery if the only thing I want to change about my body is so easily changeable. A routine tummy tuck. Hollywood housewives and everyone else for that matter do them all the time. I keep holding onto this belief that I can't have plastic surgery till I'm down at my lowest possible weight and also that I should be able to or even "can" lose more. Well, I'm starting to think that neither of those things may be true.

So, I haven't decided for sure yet but I'm starting to seriously consider it. It's really weird to imagine what my life, my body, and my perception of myself would be like minus the belly I've carried around my whole life. Weird, but a nice thing to imagine.

2 week experiment: results

This was written on July 12 but oops... I kind of forgot to post it.

So the results are in and they are mixed. In numbers, not such a great ending as I remain steadily at 180.6 lbs. On the other hand, when I got back from my vacation on 6/28 I was back at 184 so being down is good. I would like to have lost any weight at all in the past week but I also didn't stick to the plan very well at all, so what do I expect?

The good news is my body fat % is still pretty low in terms of where it's been lately. 35.1 now and my eventual goal is to get it below 30 even if I don't lose any further weight.

After the results of the first week I'm kind of discouraged but still have enough medifast food to keep going. It's not an utter failure after all. Not been that hungry, been eating better and more nutritiously than in my pre-experiment life. Was able to get back down to 180 without the use of that godawful medication that blocks the opening of my stomach.