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.


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?




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.


3rd post in one single week


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


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


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.