setting goals

just over three months out from having most of my stomach surgically removed in order to help with weight loss, and i’m stuck. i haven’t lost much weight at all. about 35 pounds in total. that’s certainly better than gaining, which i haven’t done either, but still. 35 pounds in more than three months isn’t that much when you have well over 100 pounds to lose to begin with.

here’s the thing. i can make excuses, and i have and will continue to do so because i’m fucking human. but i haven’t set even ONE goal during this whole process. isn’t that nuts?

the surgeon never asked me how much i wanted to lose, nor did he tell me what i need to get down to. and i’ve never been one big on the whole numbers thing. my main purpose with this WLS was to get healthy, feel healthy, be healthy, act healthy, live healthy.

right now i do feel good, but my BMI is still at 40. that’s NOT healthy.

so i decided to set some specific goals once and for all:

  1. lose at least 20 pounds (reach the coveted ONEderland) by June, the month of my 10th wedding anniversary
  2. reach a BMI of 29.9 (high end of “overweight”) by my 45th birthday in September (that means i need to lose 60 pounds by then!!)
  3. reach a BMI of 24.9 (high end of “normal”) by my one year surgery anniversary, 12/16/17

i have no issues getting the proper nutrition though i don’t get confirmation of that till my followup appointment with the surgeon next week. as far as water and protein though, i’m certain i’m getting it in. and all with natural foods versus protein shakes or bars (thank you sweet jesus).

it’s the activity (lack of) that’s hindering more, bigger results. so with all that said and done, i vow here and now to be more active each and every freaking day. not every day needs to be 45-60 minutes of activity, but at least every other.

i got this… i got me.

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one last bite

I guess it was bound to happen– according to all I’ve read and seen on the web, at least.

Last night, about an hour after eating dinner, I puked.

I knew I overdid it with dinner but I just didn’t think that “one last bite” would wreak so much havoc on me.

I couldn’t seem to get out of the restaurant fast enough. And the drive home was just as long. Barely in the door, I told my daughter I needed a few minutes and voila the vomit came a minute after entering the bathroom.

I don’t recall the last time I puked. Even when I was horribly nauseated for two days following the surgery, I still never actually vomited.

As I approach three months out from surgery, I’m still learning. Every day I learn. That’s life, right?

EAT SLOWLY

TAKE SMALL BITES

STOP WHEN FULL NO MATTER WHAT

6 months till i’m 45

So my period that came two and half weeks late and had me feeling, wondering if maybe I was just going a tad insane has left the building already. In fact, I only had one rough horror show day; by day four, there was nothing. (“Normally” my periods are heavy as fuck for the first two or three days before they taper down to nothing by day five or six so what happened this time – with the exception of waiting an additional 2 weeks for it! – is coolio with me.)

I’m like 99% confident I’m perimenopausal after doing some more research, and have ordered a book about menopause from a Dr. Northup. I need to figure out how to deal with this shit before it drives me truly insane.

Eating has been pretty spot on since getting my period. I’ve been feeling great since getting my period. This is my life though… until a week or so before my next period comes and the bloating and irritability and the need to want to do harm to others starts creeping back in slowly. Like a freaking stalker waiting for the right moment to make its move and attack.

I’m pretty confident eating healthily and exercising more routinely will not only help me get more and more healthy and less and less obese, but it will also help with the menopause shit, too.

At least I haven’t experienced hot flashes yet.

But then again… maybe VSG alleviated some of that because prior to surgery, I was pretty much literally a hot mess all the time.

Hmm.

3rd post in one single week

And JUST LIKE THAT…

I’m back to feeling on top of the world and in absolute control of everything!

Why?

Because I finally got my motherfucking period yesterday. Two and half weeks late. So I spent nearly a month’s time dealing with PMDD.

NO FUCKING WONDER WHY I ATE A BAG OF POTATO CHIPS night before last.

I’m a gazillion percent certain that there’s at least one person in the world who would read this and think, “Nice excuse.”

And that’s cool.

It is an excuse.

But, it’s a valid one I can promise you that.

Unless you’ve dealt with food addiction, unless you’ve dealt with PMDD- and I mean really dealt with it by personally living through a couple months of feeling like you’re losing your fucking mind (which is very much how I feel some months when PMSing)- there’s just no way you can really comprehend this excuse.

 

Onward!

potato chips

When my uncle passed away 16 months ago, my aunt put a pack of Marlboro reds in his coffin during the wake- to later be buried with him.

There were a lot of pictures and flowers and even a little stuffed rottweiler puppy in there too, but the thing that stood out the most was the little white and red box of cigarettes resting near his right hand.

Uncle had open heart surgery a good 15 years prior and even after that, and being told time and time again that he must quit smoking or he would die “soon”, he never could. In fact, the week before he passed away while in the hospital after suffering a stroke, he asked my father for a cigarette (my dad quit smoking 20 years ago).

The image of the pack of cigarettes in the coffin actually makes me smile. I know it probably shouldn’t because it really is what ultimately sent him to his grave, but he was just so darn stubborn about his smoking. And in the 40+ years I can recall with him in my life, I always remember him with a cigarette… specifically a Marlboro red. So I guess it was kind of fitting to see a pack next to him when saying goodbye.

***

Yesterday my dinner consisted of a “small” bag of Sour Cream and Onion JAYS potato chips. It wasn’t a family size bag, but it wasn’t one of those 25 cent bags either. I believe it had 3 servings of chips in the bag.

I’m 2.5 months out from having vertical sleeve gastrectomy weight loss surgery and my dinner last night was a fucking bag of potato chips.

I don’t feel guilty about this; I don’t particularly feel bad. I do feel a bit disappointed in myself, but I also know that today is a new day and I will move forward.

I’ve been reading the book EAT WHAT YOU LOVE LOVE WHAT YOU EAT and I want to be truly cognitive of why I’m eating, when I’m eating, how I’m eating, etc–hence this post.

I bought the chips on Sunday when I ran out to get a prescription. Because on Sunday I had a taste for salty, crunchy chips. But by the time I bought them, I wasn’t hungry so I didn’t eat them and just left them in the car.

Then yesterday, I thought about the fucking chips all day long because I had them–I knew they were there. So after I dropped my kid off to her evening activity and after I got some gas and walked around a bit, I found myself opening the bag of chips while on the way back to picking up my girl.

And sure as shit, I ended up stuffing down the entire bag by the time I parked the car to pick up my girl.

Was I hungry? Maybe a little.

Honestly though, I believe I ate the chips because I thought about them all day long, because I knew the chips were there. And I knew if I didn’t eat them, they’d be there until I either ate them or threw them away. And if I bought the bag in the first place, there was no way I’d throw it out.

So yeah, I ate the chips. All of them.

The “good” news is that I was stuffed after eating the chips. Stuffed. That’s the restriction from VSG, thank god almighty. (Pre-VSG, I would’ve acted like the chips were nothing and had a full meal of whatnot with my girl after her class was over. But I absolutely couldn’t do that last night. Thank god.)

So I ate the chips. And it’s not the first time I’ve had chips since surgery (but it’s definitely the first time I’ve had that much).

I’m not a perfect bariatric patient.

I’m not a perfect human being.

I have issues with food. Not even surgery can fix this about me.  Not yet at least. I’m working on it- that’s why I’m blogging my truth here.

Like I said yesterday, my reasons for WLS wasn’t to be be thin or “not” fat. My goal is to be healthy. And part of being healthy, in my opinion, has to do with my mental game.

So yeah, I ate the chips. All of them.

And now it’s time to move on and continue toward my goal of becoming healthy and eating healthily, and hopefully, when my time is up, there won’t be a bag of chips by my side in my coffin.

10+ weeks post-op

I went to dinner with a group of new friends over the weekend. We’re all moms whose children all went to the same school at one point or another. Not necessarily at the same time, but that’s our common denominator. It’s pretty cool, if you ask me. I’m not a people-y person whatsoever so going to dinner with a group of women (one of which I’ve known for about three years now and consider a dear friend) I’ve only known for about a year is very much out of my comfort zone, but it’s been quite enjoyable.

This was actually our second dinner out since my surgery, but the first time it (WLS) came up as a focal point during dinner.

Generally, being the non-people-y person that I am, I absolutely avoid having the conversation be all about me for too long. I’m just not comfortable with it. But Saturday was different. And in a good way.

There was five of us that evening and all but me and one other were of average size. And the one besides me who was a little fluffy, wasn’t morbidly obese like me.

They asked how I was feeling, how I was doing. They commented that I looked good and that they could see a difference in my face and appearance despite my comments of the scale not going down in about a month’s time.

“So what was it that really pushed you to get the surgery?” one spokesperson finally asked.

I smiled. I didn’t feel judged. I felt like they really wanted to know why I went the route I did, when I did. And it all boiled down to just needing a little extra help and not being ashamed to seek it out.

I told them how I’d lost 50-plus pounds three times in my adult life. I told them how I’d been overweight since puberty hit, how I got my first period at age 9 and how, by age 10, I was in a regular adult sized bra (never even knew about “training bras”). I told them how I went to a ton of schools (including 4 high schools) because my mom was constantly evading credit collectors. I told them how food became my best friend- sometimes my only friend.

I also told them about losing 75 pounds in less than a year with a low carb diet (and how freaking HOT I had become) and exercise. I told them about being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in 2014, and how I’d lost 60 pounds in less than a year by watching what I ate and exercising sometimes twice a day to avoid being put on medication for the diabetes.

I told them all of this not for them to feel sorry for me and not as an excuse for my morbid obesity, but because this was where I came from and this all led to my decision to get WLS. I just had enough with fighting obesity and just needed help getting healthy.

It’s not about being thin for me.

It’s not about Not being fat.

It’s about feeling good and alive and able and HEALTHY.

For once in my friggin life I want to be as healthy as possible… for myself and my sweet baby girl (who is 7).

And for once in my life, I feel like this is all truly doable…thanks to WLS.

2 months post-op

Yesterday marked 2 months since VSG and that should mean I’m still in the honeymoon phase of all of this life change. Sadly, I also have PMDD and am raging right now on the inside. I just need to bleed. Once I bleed, it will get better but until then, holy mother of all there is, I’m raging.

Stay away from me.

I mean it.

Up until about two days ago, my food intake has been absolutely spot on (since being cleared to eat all foods). I’ve been eating when I was hungry only. I’ve been eating real food. I’ve been avoiding Slider Foods. I’ve been feeling fucking good as a result.

But then two days ago when I realized I should’ve started bleeding five days ago and still hadn’t (no chance of pregnancy), when the cramping and irritability started to overcome … I started to comfort myself with food again. And here’s what I’ve learned: Slider foods are evil evil EVIL. Much like sugar. Cookies, chocolate, chips, low/no protein foods = EVIL. And they also make me feel like shit. Absolute shit. Yet, in the moment of inhalation, I can’t stop myself.

And then I’m left so bloated and uncomfortable and desperately needing to poop in addition to bleed, and my 7-year-old is asking if I’m going to have a baby because of how freaking bloated I’ve become.

So now I sit here having had two cups of coffee and 30 ounces of water and praying to have to use the bathroom, yet not having to. And hoping to see blood, but not seeing any. And wanting to slam my head into a brick wall over and over again, but not finding said wall.

And to think I take fucking Prozac (every day) to ease my rage when it gets this bad. Maybe it’s time to up the dosage.