So, it looks like I sort of fell off the face of the earth lately.  I guess I've been a little busy. 

I have updates!

Most here are interested in the weight first, so I'll tell you that I've lost 92 pounds to date.  I cannot wait to be able to say I've lost a solid 100.  Currently, I only get on a scale about once a month, but I think I'll do it weekly now until I've lost that last eight.  I'd like to document the day I've done it. 

As you might expect, it feels wonderful.  My ankles don't hurt.  My knees don't hurt.  My back will probably always hurt.  That's just the way I'm built. 

I find myself feeling myself up all the time.  I know that sounds weird, but it's true.  I often have my hands on my waist or on my tummy.  It's so intriguing to find my bones.  Some of them I can actually grab hold of.  Getting dressed is something of an adventure every morning.  I've had clothes that I thought fit, but now that they hang correctly, I know how they were meant to look. 

Oh!  There were tornado warnings today.  I work in a college and our public announcement system went down.  We, very quickly, had to run to the classrooms and tell the students to move to internal hallways and classrooms.  I was able to run up the stairs (the elevator would have been too slow) in HEELS no less.  Was I out of breath by the time I got around to several classrooms?  Yes.  Was I about to die of an asthma attack?  Not even close.  I was fine. 

My other update is that I have completed my masters degree as of four days ago!  It's a huge relief.  I'm done.  Well, I'm done for now.  I'm currently applying to some Ph.D. programs.  But, even if I get into one, I'm on academic vacation until next fall.  It feels soooooo good.

That's about it for the updates.  There's no relationship to speak of.  I like it that way.  I'm always a little confused by the folks who lose a bunch of weight and immediately hop into a relationship.  Wouldn't you rather be thin... and SINGLE?!  Call me kookie, but I'd like to spend substantial time being seen in my lovely evening gown before letting some prince take me home from the ball.

I've lost touch with some folks on here and I hope to fix that soon.  I hope you're all doing amazingly well.  Best wishes!

Brandy

A warm hello to my faithful reader. 

It's now been four months since my trip to Mexico to have my surgery.  I'm still kind of in awe of the fact that I had the nards to do that, but I'm so glad I did.  I've said it before, but I really do think that I found the best surgeon I could have hoped for.  I wish he were here.  

I still haven't had a single complication.  Nothing has ever become stuck.  I've never vomited.  I don't have acid reflux.  I think these are all due to the skill of Dr. Horacio Guajardo and his team.  These are mechanical issues.  The size and shape of my pouch must be right.  The stoma healed perfectly and must be just the right size.  I have restriction, but not stricture.

I've been able to work out... and it feels GREAT!  I'm not just saying that, either.  It really does feel good.  Today, I had to make a trip to a grocery store that is part of a strip mall.  I purposely parked on the side of the lot opposite of the grocery store and enjoyed the walk to and from the store.  Did you catch that word?  I ENJOYED the walk.  OK, ok... so that's not the most impressive example.  That's no great distance.

So, how about this?  I can ride a recumbant bike for half an hour (or an eliptical for 15 minutes... seriously, those things are like simultaneously your butt's best friend and worst enemy), and then do weight training for half an hour and THEN walk a mile to cool down.  The mile is leisurely and the whole workout totals a full 90 minutes.  And while I'm walking that mile, I feel like skipping... or dancing... I have tons of energy left over.  I never would have guessed I'd feel like that four months out.

Want numbers?

OK... It's been four months and two days.  I've lost 77 pounds and 32 inches! 

I love the idea that I'm less than 25 pounds away from having lost 100 pounds.  

My family, friends, and coworkers are really noticing the change now.  They're ridiculously interested in what I have for lunch every day.  I think they're mostly fascinated by the fact that it's fairly normal.  It's not baby food.  It's salsa chicken and quinoa.  Or it's teriyaki chicken (homemade, no sugar).  Or it's a chef's salad.  Or it's a bowl of chili with cheese. 

I'm bad about eating breakfast.  It usually only happens on the weekends.  Bad me, I know.  But, when I do eat it, it's usually an egg of some preparation atop a piece of wheat toast.  I've recently learned to poach eggs.  Love it!  

Oh, what else to talk about?  Clothes?  All baggy!  I try really hard not to complain because losing weight is a blessing.  Complaining about the petty things that come along with it is just insulting to those who are still struggling.  But, let's just say that my wardrobe goes through phases of being very limited to being more than adequate as I pass through the sizes I have.

What else?  Attention from the opposite sex?  Improving!  My desire to act on any of it.  Still the same.  Blahhhhhhh... I was a busy girl before and now I'm just an even busier girl with energy to back it up.  I just don't have time.  I have goals that I think are incongruent with romance right now.  Anyone interested in dating me would have to have life of his own.  He would have to be that very busy type who understands tight schedules and appreciates the time we'd have together, no matter how small or rare.  Turns out that guy is really hard to find.  Know why?  Because we're both busy doing other things!  Figures.

Everything else is still peachy, as always.  Stress free.  That's me!  :dance:

As of yesterday, I am officially three months out.  My brain is split and each side is arguing with the other.  Half is saying, "Is that ALL?!" and the other half is saying, "Three months ALREADY?!".  I feel like I've had a lifetime of changes between my surgery date and now.  My job moved from one campus to another.  My wardrobe has all but completely changed.  I look so different in my face.  I'm one class away from completing my masters degree.  I'm in the process of applying to a doctoral program. 

But, on the other hand, it feels like no time has gone by at all.  It's a paradox, I know.

So, where am I?  Well, I weighed about 2 weeks ago and at that time, I'd lost exactly 60 pounds.  Am I happy with that?  Heck yes I am!  60 pounds in 2.5 months?  Pshhhh... way better than I was expecting!  

But, I'm a worrier.  I keep thinking it's all going to stop soon.  Something is going to happen and my weight loss will come to an abrupt halt and I'll be stuck looking at bins full of donated clothes that will never fit.  I worry that my body is some kind of super adaptor and is going to too quickly learn what I've done to it and figure out how to absorb every calorie of every morsel of food that I eat.  I worry that I can eat too much.  

Oh, hey, guess what.  I'm still easily distracted.  Let's make lists...

Things that feel different:

My car feels huge. My arm no longer touches the door.  My butt fits down into my bucket seat, not across it.  My seatbelt is REALLY LONG!  I've had to move my seat up and forward.  I've had to adjust my mirrors.

My bed feels really big!  I take up a lot less of it than I used to.  I have a queen and I feel like a princess in it.  The mattress feels new because there's less of my body between me and it.  I weigh the mattress down less which changes the way it feels pushing back up against me.  I used to sleep on two pillows and now it just bends my neck uncomfortably because my body lays so much lower.  I lay my hand across my hip and I think to myself that I wouldn't feel self conscious about a man wrapping his arm around me while spooning.

My clothes feel different every day.  Hey, I'll say it.  My panties might as well be parachutes.  It's not A panty line... it's 10 panty lines because they're all bunched up inside my pants.  I'm wearing clothes I used to hate myself for... they never fit before.  Now I can take put them on and off without buttoning or unbuttoning them.  They hang right.  I look taller.  I FEEL taller.

That ultra personal thing that people shouldn't talk about... yeah.... that feels different too. 

Oh, and I can take a quick picture of my face with my camera phone and like just about every single one.  Nice.

I can stand in heels for longer periods of time.

I can walk and walk and walk and walk and walk.  Distances seem shorter now.  I no longer think, "Oh gawd... I have to walk all the way over THERE?!"



New list... things I worry about:

I'm losing some hair.  I have tons of hair, but it's always been a source of pride for me.  Losing it is freaking me out.  I see my hair everywhere.  I know it's mine because it's about 3 feet long.  I find pieces of it wrapped around my body or intertwined between my fingers.  I don't even like looking at my brush every morning after getting ready for work.  Please stop soon.

I worry that I'm not getting in enough protein.  I do my shakes and I eat things like chicken and tuna and whatnot.  Even my carbs are good.  I eat quinoa instead of rice.  But... my hair is falling out.  So, I doubt everything about my nutrition.

I worry that I forget my vitamins too often. At the very least, I generally get my morning vits in.  It's easier to forget about my night time doses.  And weekends are the worst.  I've paired vits with getting ready for work or class.  If I'm not doing that, I forget about them completely.  I didn't do this to be unhealthy and I don't want to go down that vitamin deficiency path.

I worry that people will change how they think about me.  For some reason, I'm afraid that they'll suddenly expect more from me than I've ever had to deliver before. 


New list... Things I've learned:

SUGAR FREE DOES NOT EQUAL BARIATRIC FRIENDLY.  Not, not, NOT!  Backstory... my sons got braces yesterday.  They made me promise I'd take them to a nearby candy factory prior to their bonding.  So, this past weekend, I did that.  The candy factory has a fairly large sugar free section.  I figured, what the heck, and I bought some SF gummies and chocolates and some nuts.  After spending an obscene amount of money on candy, we all pile back into my car to head home.  While driving, I crack open my little bag of SF peach ring gummies.  This factory is famous for its amazing gummies and they didn't disappoint.  These things were soooooo goooooood.  Like, close your eyes while driving good.  And I had a few.  Enjoyed each and every one.  Later that night, my body delivered a verdict I shan't soon forget.  Absolutely, under no circumstances am I to have SF gummies.  I can't describe the horror.  I can't bear to relive it even in memory.  It took me two days to get over the effects.  SF gummies are the Devil.  What leaves your body is surely Satan's spawn.  Do not eat sugar free gummies.

I've learned that there are few indulgences worth the consequences.

I've learned that my body feels amazing when I've fed it a good solid protein like chicken.

I've learned that skim milk really is delicious!  Who knew?!

I've learned that being hit on by random strangers is awkward.

I hope to learn how to handle that better.

I've learned that the memories I had of having great big eyes and big puffy lips weren't false memories.  Those features were just swallowed up by a giant face. 

I've learned that I have a NECK!  It's curves in from my head and out to my shoulders and everything!

I've learned that sleep can be hit or miss.  It seems like sometimes my body wants nothing more than to shut down and at other times, it seems like it's too busy to bother with sleep and I end up laying here.... on my bed.... blogging.


I think I'll force the issue and at least shut off the computer and lamp and just be here in the dark.  My brain will get the message soon enough.  Goodnight, dear reader(s).  Goodnight, my one "fan" who asked me to write again.  I thank you for pulling me back into it.  It really is a good tool for staying on track and reflecting on experiences.

Oooooh, thunder.  Sleeping may be easier than I thought.  :)

I think that everyone who has ever struggled with their weight has experienced the mocking shirt... or mocking pants, or mocking dress. It's that article of clothing that hangs in your closet even though it's too small for you to wear. When you're frantically looking for something to wear to work or to a function, it's hanging there saying, "You know, you could wear me if you weren't so fat."

My mocking shirt is white. It's a nice shirt. I guess that's why I never returned it when I tried it on only to find that it would work better as a straight jacket than anything else. It was tight on my arms. It didn't close in the front. I couldn't shrug my shoulders. I had a hard time even taking the damned thing off after trying it on.

I'll be honest. The other reason I didn't take it back was because I just didn't want to have to make up some story about it not being what I was looking for as opposed to saying, "Sorry, I can't wear this even though it's your biggest size. Can I have my money back?"

So, it's just hung there in my closet for the last couple of years... mocking me every time I've needed something to wear.

This morning, I overslept and as I hadn't picked out clothes for the day the night before, I was rushing to find something. And there it was... looking all perfect, but too small.

As you know, I've lost some weight recently (40 pounds as of last Thursday). So, I decided to see if the shirt was still too small. Of course it would be, right? Just a little less tight, I figured.

Wrong! I slipped it on and it fit!  So, I took it back off, ripped the tag off and put it back on.  I'm wearing it right now. My brain would like to believe that the shirt grew somehow while hanging out in my closet. It was peer pressure from spending all of its time with my other ginormous bits of clothes. I'm struggling to grasp the idea that my body is actually getting smaller. But, apparently it is!  

It feels good.

I killed my Mocking Shirt.

I don't think I fully understood the whole pouch naming thing until after surgery.  But, it really is a whole new creature inside of your body.  It's made FROM you, but it's definitely not always on your side.  It has its own personality.  Sometimes it likes you and it likes what you feed it.  Sometimes it doesn't like what you feed it today even though it was fine with it yesterday.

All in all, it just acts like another little human inside of you.  It has good days and bad.  It can be moody.  It talks ALL THE DAMN TIME (gurgle, gurgle, gurrrrrgle).  It's a person, I'm telling you!

And... this person's name is Javier.

Why Javier? 

I dunno.  I've been thinking of the whole pouch name thing for a while.  I wanted to be able to refer to it as something funnier and less clinical than "the pouch".  And I wanted something fun but meaningful.  I got to thinking about it, and I realized that my pouch was figuratively born in Mexico.  Hmm... Latin name?  Sounds good.  But which?  Hey, isn't the guy who made my pouch sort of like... it's father?  HAHAHAHAHA... sort of.  I could name it after him.  OK, but I can't call it Horacio.  Then my friends and family would think I was talking about  my surgeon when I said something like, "Horacio doesn't like 2% milk."  or  "Horacio is being a real jerk today."  Nahhhh... but.... HEY!  His middle name is Javier!  I like that.  

So, there it is.  "The pouch" is now Javier.  Javier and I are going to try to get to know each other better.  I've promised not to abuse him and he, I hope, is promising not to make me miserable.  

I'll take that last gurgle as a yes.