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

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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.

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.

 

8 weeks post op

eight freaking weeks, what?!??!

been reading a book called EAT WHAT YOU LOVE LOVE WHAT YOU EAT by Dr. Michele May. she has a website AM I HUNGRY? too. i’m finding it fascinating. and it’s been super helpful so far this week with my eating… whenever i think i’m hungry, i just ask myself if i really am and if i am, i eat; if i’m not, i don’t.

sounds simple, i know. I KNOW. but, it’s helped me eat only when i’ve been truly hungry this week.

for once, i feel like i’m in charge instead of just being in control… and i know my period is coming so being able to feel like this and eat like this during PMS is monumental.

***

things i’m loving this week: my nuwave air fryer and green giant broccoli tots, as well as this raw almond flour cookie dough bites that i make (1 cup almond flour, 2 tablespoon cookie butter ((or peanut butter)), 1 tablespoon applesauce, 2-3 tablespoon mini choc chips all mixed together and rolled into balls… next time i’ll add some Bipro unflavored protein powder for more added protein).

 

post op day 52

I’m approaching two months since VSG and I can honestly say that my life is pretty much back to normal as far as recovering from surgery and being used to having a much smaller stomach.

For the most part.

There are still moments when I look at food or think of food and get a bit sad that I can’t eat everything (I want or) I thought I could, but more than not, I’m truly digging eating such small portions. And I’m basically eating whatever, too: I’ve had rice, pasta, salad; I’ve had sweets, salts, sours. I’ve basically had it all and am finding that my pouch is pretty tolerant of everything.

From all that I’ve read, I’m absolutely counting my blessings on this one.

That said, the number on the scale isn’t moving much at all. I’m guessing that is because the scale is a motherfucker. Heh, in all seriousness (it IS a mofo but I digress), I’m guessing it’s because my calorie count is higher than most post-op bariatric patients. Especially this early out… I’m eating 1000 to 1200 calories every day. I just don’t have a problem getting anything in. In fact, there has been a day or two where I’ve approached (if not surpassed!!!) 1500 calories! And while that amount is NOT a lot for a normal adult, it IS a lot for a bariatric patient. At least as far as I can tell from all that I read online.

Here’s the thing about this: I’m totally OK with these numbers- both on the scale and those that I’m digesting.

Am I happy the scale isn’t moving and hasn’t moved in weeks? No. Am I going to harp on this ditty? Fuck no.

MY WORTH IS WAY MORE THAN A NUMBER ON A SCALE OR MY PANTS!

I’ll just continue to plan meals and focus on PROTEIN FIRST and trying to get more activity in my day and soon, I’m certain, I’ll be complaining that nothing fits anymore (it’ll all be too big of course).