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.