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Month 7

Milestones: -7 pounds

CW: 142

Size 4

CENTURY CLUB! 105 pounds down!!!

For the first time in 17 years of marriage, I weigh less than my husband (who’s at 147…after gaining a bit)!!!

 

This month has been a whirlwind. The weight is coming off, albeit begrudgingly. That having been said, I can see myself perfectly happy this size for life. I’m not stopping, I’m still a ways to goal (and I’m thinking about lowering my goal weight a bit, as well), but I am happy here. I can do everything I dreamed of before. Still…I’m thinking I would look and feel great at 128. I’m not changing my goal or anything, just musing to myself.

I’m still wearing mediums on top. I’ll probably be in mediums for life. It’s my shoulders and boobs. My shoulders are too broad for tiny clothes, and well, the boobs are not diminished. Actually, I wish I could show you a picture of my boobs…no, not in that way, pervert. So when I was bigger, they were too, and they pointed down, kind of like UU. Now, they look like ? ?. They’re actually a very nice shape, but they hang lower than is attractive. I’m going to lift those bad girls up and they’ll be gorgeous. I got them measured last week, and I’m at 34D. When I lose the weight, I’m going to buy one or two really nice bras that will look amazing. But I’ll save the big bra purchases until after I can get plastics.

I was reading up on probiotics as a way to a) help with constipation, b) encourage weight loss, and c) deal with occasional nausea and stomach upset. All three of these points sounded good to me, so I decided to give it a shot. When the pills came in, I added them to my daily rotation. Another pill in the handful isn’t a big deal. However, somewhere around week 3, I screwed up. For some reason, in my mind, I needed to take these twice a day rather than once. At first, I thought I had a sour stomach, just some upset. Then, as days passed, the farting set it. I started farting constantly, and not small, delicate toots. No, I had enormous rippers, the kind Dad always let go. And they stunk. I reeked like I had found a dead hobo in the Arizona desert and decided to eat him. I was gassing everyone out of house and home. I pity my workmates…damn open office space! At home I was lighting candles around the house to try to keep the stench under control. It’s cold and rainy, so opening doors and windows was not an option. I cannot begin to describe the stench. I was about ready to go to the doctor when I was reloading my pill boxes and the instructions on the probiotics caught my eye. I had been ODing on single-cell organisms. The next week, I cut the pills down to one a day, QD. Whaddaya know? I’m back to smelling normal. On the other hand, my poop was absolutely grand when I was hitting the hard stuff. The price, though….

I’m trying hard to work through my stress eating. Honestly, I can eat a great deal right now. The pouch isn’t controlling my food intake, I am, and that’s where it becomes iffy. I kinda suck at this. But I keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing I will be fine in the end.

So my mom lives with us. It’s mutually beneficial. She’s retiring in a month, and has agreed to start cooking clean for the entire house. She’s an amazing cook, and she’s gone through periods of clean cooking before, but working full time, she just doesn’t have the time. I’m excited to try. I really dislike it when people get all judgmental about clean eating. Yes, it’s the best way to eat. Yes, it’s particularly helpful after WLS. However, if it were cheap and easy, we wouldn’t have an obesity problem in the world. It takes time to prepare dishes, especially if you have a large family with varying tastes and preferences.

2 pounds until normal weight, 12 until goal. I’m going to make next month really count!

 

Milestones:

-5 pounds

CW: 149

Size 6

Well, I am in a size 6 in all of my pants, except for the Old Navy jeans, which run a half-size large. I have 4s in those. At first, I thought it was a fluke. I got Old Navy jeans in 6, and they fit a bit loose (you can tell in the pic with the green sweater). I figured it was vanity-sized. Then, I got two more jeans in 6s, Gap slacks (the gray ones in the picture), J. Crew slacks, Banana Republic skirt, and they all fit. It’s hard to accept that it’s my size.

It’s crazy—I never imagined being this small. Every single time I put my pants on I think, ‘These are tiny clothes. I’ll never get a thigh in one of these!” Then, they slide right on. I maintain my disbelief right up until I button them. Then, I check the mirror knowing that it can’t be right. When I look in the mirror, I still look fat to me. I am a savant at picking out all of my flaws. I feel like even when I get to goal weight this is going to be an ongoing issue for me for a while, until I learn how to deal with it and to recognize myself as I am. Intellectually, I know that I am smaller than the average American woman, and I look fine. Emotionally and mentally, though, I still have huge self-esteem issues that are going to take time to resolve.

My shirts are still mediums, though. C-cups don’t fit in smalls (Thank God I kept the boobs!). Dress shirts are particularly frustrating since if they fit the waist, there is button gap at the chest. It’s a problem I’m happy to live with, though. :-P

I’m including a picture of my skin. I will definitely need plastics, but I knew that from the outset. If the skin is the price of admission, though, it’s completely worth it.

I think I experienced dumping this month, but there is one caveat: I wasn’t eating fat, sugar, or carbs. My daughter and I went to a Mexican restaurant we love. I always order the huevos rancheros: marinated flank steak covered with eggs and salsa. Anyway, they have a salsa bar with grilled jalapenos. While waiting for our order, I ate two of the jalapenos. I have eaten them more than once since surgery with no problems. This time, however, as soon as I ate them, I felt awful…beyond awful. I suddenly felt light-headed and shaky, like I was going to pass out. My entire digestive system was cramping. I ran into the bathroom and nearly lost control of my bowels. I wasn’t sure I could stand well enough to get off the toilet. My daughter (who’s 12) was freaking out. I staggered back to the table and drank water, a whole glass. I figured that this was one time I wanted to wash the food down as quickly as possible. Water really helped. It took about half an hour until I was able to stand on my own. I was unable to eat for the rest of the day, but I was functional again. Holy cow, I never want to feel like that again. It was terrible. If that’s what dumping is, I’d never eat sweets again either.

This month has been frustrating. Weight loss has slowed. Part of it is getting close to goal. Part of it is me.

I’ve really screwed up. I have had an incredibly stressful month, and it shows in my weight management. My husband lost his job. I started a new, stressful one with a really long commute. My husband fell off the wagon, so we fought. He is also sitting at home, while I’m leaving for work at 5:30 every morning, but he still expects me to do the child care, the house work, and everything else. I hit a breaking point.

The old food compulsions came back with a vengeance. When it happens, I think about a food—it doesn’t even have to be something I like, just something in the house or otherwise accessible. Then, I cannot stop thinking about it, dwelling on it, until I eat it. Like I said, it doesn’t have to be something I like. I’ll find myself eating something and thinking, “This is disgusting…” I haven’t had the compulsions for a long time, but it’s fairly obvious they are a product of stress. I had one really, really bad day when I ate everything: candy, pizza, wings, sausages, bread. If it was bad for me, I ate it. Fortunately, I’ve managed to contain the worst of it to that one day. I’m trying to dust myself off and get back on track.

In the meantime, I had a Come-to-Jesus with my husband, and he agreed to a) go back to the doctor for the alcoholism (He needs to refill his naltrexone), b) take over the household chores while he’s out of work and split them evenly when he finds work again, and c) work on his resume. He’s a really good man, but neither one of us is stellar under stress. I go to food, he to drink. Sometimes, I feel like the Springsteen song, “Well, our luck may have died, and our love may be cold, but with you forever I’ll stay…” Other times, I am overwhelmed by my love for him. We’ve been together for 18 years. There is no one else for either of us.

I’m working on better ways to deal with stress, and ways to curb evening eating. Those are my weakest points. Next month is going to be great. I am 8 pounds from normal weight, and 18 pounds from goal. The great thing about my new job is actually the fact that it’s quite a bit more regimented than my old one. It means that I have to eat at exactly the same time, for half an hour, and there is no room for snacking. It means I just need to really maintain control in the evenings.

Photo time!

 

So, yeah....loose skin.  Eww. Still sooooo much better than fat. BTW, I will never show my face on this site because all of you have seen everything else. 

Obligatory month progress shot:

 

Me, clothed.  Much better!!!! There's a full-length mirror at work. I'm not sure why my hand is always on my hip, as if I were constantly impatient.

 

Milestones:

-8 pounds

CW: 154

Size 8

 

I’m down more than 90 pounds! Milestone! That’s insane to even think about, but holy cow, it’s true! It’s like I was carrying my kids strapped to me everywhere I went.

For the first time in my entire life, I weigh less than my sister…but she’s still 4 inches taller, so my BMI is higher.

I’m a size 8. I took my daughter shopping and pulled on some jeans. An hour into the trip, I realized I was constantly hiking up my pants…and they were 10s. I went home and put on 8s and they fit like a glove.  I’m in single digits! Psychologically, that is such a victory for me. I feel so much more human now.

I have a cabinet in my bedroom. For years, I have stored too-small clothes in that cabinet. I have bought clothes over the last few months and put them in that cabinet waiting until I can wear them. As of this month, that cabinet is empty. I never bought anything less than a size 8 because I have never been able to imagine myself in anything less. Well, right now all of those size 8s fit. I guess I can get a size 6 as my new stretch outfit.

I definitely lose in fits and starts. I dropped 5 pounds the first week, and then nothing for three weeks. This week, I dropped the last 3. It’s a bit nerve-wracking because I keep thinking, “Is this it?” I know it’s not. I’m following the program, working out, and eating 800 calories a day, so I’m definitely going to keep losing, but it’s still very anxiety-provoking.

I overate Christmas and Christmas Eve. However, I pushed my calories really low the rest of the week to average it out. So, even though I indulged, I still went down two pounds during the week. I feel pretty good about that. I feel like I’m in control, and there’s no guilt.

I had an epiphany this month. I was in a waiting room with about a dozen other people, and looking around, I was the smallest person in the room. Yeah, I am so used to being the largest person of either sex in any given public space, that I never considered not being so conspicuous. Before, it was shocking to see someone larger than me. Now, I’m just….average. It’s amazing.

So…a bit of a NSV. Last weekend, we took family photos. I haven’t done that since my daughter was born—twelve years ago. I just could not stand the way I looked for so long. A year ago, I could never imagine allowing someone to record my appearance. On Saturday, I paid someone to do it.

For the first time, someone asked me how much more weight I intend to lose. A family friend told me that I’m wasting away. I pointed out that I’m still 15 pounds overweight…and 25 pounds to my goal.

In the pictures this month, you can really see my loose skin. My inner thighs are awful, too. I’m already saving up for plastics. I’d show you pics of the thighs, but I don’t own shorts. The skin is pretty rough, though. On a different message board, one woman posted that she weighs 400 pounds and is interested in surgery, but doesn’t want to do it because of loose skin. I really wanted to say, “You’re 400 pounds! When you go out, do you really think people’s first thought is, ‘Wow! She’s got great skin!’” But I didn’t say that because in the end she’s the one who has to live that life. To anyone else thinking about surgery, though, I want to say, unequivocally, that loose skin is worth it. My skin may be loose, it may look awful bare, but I look pretty damned good clothed and I feel amazing all the time.

Milestones:

-11 pounds

CW: 162

Size 10

I am no longer obese! I am now medically overweight. Yay me! BMI 28!

 

 

I have exceeded my Dr.’s goal weight. She considers the operation to be a success if you lose 66% of your excess weight. I have now lost 69% and counting. I’m still a ways from my personal goal weight, though. It’s a good thing I have a long stretch of honeymoon phase left because I’m going to make it.

I won my first Tae Kwon Do sparring match! I beat a woman who is two belts higher and much taller. To be fair, I’ve lost two matches, but I’ve won now, too!

Food is getting both easier and harder. I can eat pretty much anything now, though I have good restriction. Hard vegetables are my kryptonite. I have to really watch what I put in my mouth. It’s easy to walk through Costco and rationalize picking up a sample, but those add up so quickly. I feel good, though, and I’m getting more and more of my protein through food rather than shakes.

I’m looking for a new job, and I was just contacted by a recruiter looking for someone for a management position at a very, very large sportswear/gear company. I am perfect for the job, and it’s a great deal of money. One thing the recruiter emphasized is the need to fit in with their culture of sport. I assured her that not only am I a sports fan (a season ticket holder for women’s professional soccer), but I am an athlete myself, a martial artist. I am very, very certain I would have no chance in hell at this position 85 pounds ago. That is pretty clear. Now, however, I feel like I’m on a level playing field. If I don’t get the job, it won’t be because of my appearance.

Life is good. My seven-year-old was teasing me, so I chased him up two flights of stairs to tickle-attack him. My daughter asked me to chaperone a walking field trip with her class. I could not have done any of those things last year.

 

Seventy-four pounds down!!! My BMI is 30.6, so I am really close to being just overweight. At the beginning of the month, I was certain that it was going to be awful. I lost about four pounds the first three weeks, so I was working hard to resign myself to a disappointing loss. Then, this last week, weight just fell off. I was losing 2-3 pounds a day! Now, it’s evened out a bit, and I end up month three with a 14 pound loss.

I’m wearing size 12! I can squeeze into 10s, but there is enough muffin top to supply a bakery, so it doesn’t count. Boobs are disappearing, though. My Ds are now Cs—and they look very sad about the whole affair. They keep staring at the ground in grief….I need to save for plastics. Last time I lost a lot of weight, things went back to where they should be. This time (granted, 15 years later) I am a Shar Pei. I have curtains instead of inner thighs, and though I don’t have full bat wings, there is definitely some flapping going on.

My calves are going nowhere. While the rest of me is shrinking, my calves are still 17”. I have linebacker calves. There is no fat on them (good thing), but I’m still so disappointed. I was hoping to wear sexy boots, but nope, I will be at goal in wide-calf boots.

Month three has been a whirlwind. I’m able to eat more and more things, so I’m really having to watch my calories because I actually can overeat. I ate a brownie three weeks ago. It was a piece of brownie cake, very small, about three tablespoons worth. And man, I was sick all evening. I wasn’t dumping per se, but I was nauseated for hours. I threw away the rest of the cake. I have not been tempted to cheat since.

I spend so much time focusing on poop. It’s always way too firm or way too loose. Every day, I check the poop. Poop, poop, poop, poop, poop, poop. I also poop a lot more than before surgery—I feel like I’m pooping enormous amounts—giant logs when it’s firm and giant piles when it’s not! And the stench…there’s not enough air freshener in the world.  I suppose it’s malabsorption—more is coming out rather than being absorbed by the body. Says I, spouting pseudoscience with no basis in research…

I throw up about once a week, but with the PPI it’s not terribly unpleasant. I cannot handle beef and some raw veggies. Every once in a while, my tummy just says, “No!” It doesn’t matter how careful I am, sometimes it just won’t stay down. The worst was when I ate a slice of persimmon—maybe half an ounce. Then, half an hour later, I took my daughter to the orthodontist. While sitting in the waiting room, I was suddenly overcome with nausea and had to run to the bathroom. It was really embarrassing.

I just made yellow belt in Tae Kwon Do! It’s soooo much fun! I am kicking butt! I don’t like gyms. I don’t like going and I feel so self-conscious at gyms, but at the dojang, I’m just focused on my form. Man, it’s a workout too! We have to bounce constantly. It’s actually really hard to do.

I have been getting a lot more male attention. Guys are chatting with me all the time, smiling. For example, I’m in Oregon, so the law is we can’t pump our own gas. We have gas station attendants. The last time I filled up, the guy was practically hanging in my window trying to chat, and ended up asking for my number. I didn’t think my husband would appreciate me giving out my digits, though :-P I think it’s a combination of factors: 1) I’m not enormous any more—so that’s not a turn-off, and 2) Because I feel so much better about myself, I actually put a little effort into dressing (earrings, lipstick, etc). It makes a huge difference.

I’m still relatively fat, though. I know it’s crazy—I now wear a smaller size than the average American woman, but I live in an affluent, West Coast suburb with more yoga studios and gyms than churches. There are no fat people here. We went to the town harvest festival, and, no joke, at a size 12 I was still the biggest woman there. I still stand out, but not like before.

I’m feeling good and looking good. I’m seven pounds to my surgeon’s goal, but a long way to go to my personal goal. I’m pretty confident right now.

 

 

 

Once again, I definitely look better clothed :-D

 

One the down side:

This month I lost 8 pounds. I have been a bit disappointed. I was really hoping to lose more. I know that 8 pounds in one month is great. I know that as long as I follow the program it’ll be fine. I know that this is completely normal. I know that my surgeon is very happy. I’m still disappointed with my progress.

I’m also pretty emotional right now. It seems that I’ve had my period ever since the surgery. I have a Mirena, so there is almost no blood, but I’ve been spotting nonstop. The hormones are torturing me. I’m weeping constantly.

If hormones are torture, constipation is murder. I’m taking fiber, Colace, milk of magnesia, enemas, everything. Constipation is winning. It’s totally TMI, but I even had to glove up. I have hemorrhoids for the first time in my life. It’s agonizing.  

 

On the up side:

I love Tae Kwon Do! Who could have guessed? I am doing it four days a week, and it’s really tough, but I’m having so much fun. I’ve worked out with a trainer before, but I’ve always been ashamed of exercising in public. I’m doing pretty well, and I’m having a great time (although I am sore as hell!). I do look a bit silly in the uniform. However, the uniform she pulled out of the drawer fit me, first time.

I’m now a size 14! That’s crazy. I was a 14 in high school. I have three pairs of pants. One is a bit loose, one is perfect, and one is tight. My 16 jeans are too big, but the slacks still fit. To reiterate, I’m a size 14! I can’t wait until they’re all too big.

I have lost a total of 60 pounds in the last 5 months.  That’s more than half way to my personal goal, and 21 pounds from my surgeon’s goal of 166. I have bones in my hands and feet. I have hip bones as well. My pajama bottoms fell off. Before, I didn’t have to unbutton my jeans to take them off—my waist was so much larger than my hips. Now, though, I have to pee the old-fashioned way J

I’ve been losing fairly slowly for the past couple of weeks—only two pounds, but I was shocked and thrilled to note that I lost three inches around the waist!

I had to meet some of my husband’s work group. Before this, I would be ashamed. My husband is very good looking—muscular body, perfect features. I have, for many years, always been hurt by people’s reactions when they see us.  It’s always a bit of a shock at the “mis-matched” couple. I can see in their eyes that they are certain he married down—way down. People even sometimes stare when we go on dates together. However, though I’m still fat, I am much, much more socially acceptable now, and I am not ashamed to be with my man.

I am so happy I’ve done this. Everything is not perfect, but everything is so much better than it was 60 pounds ago.

 

 

I definitely look better dressed:

This week, I signed up for Taekwondo.  Crazy....

Well, my kids are both in Taekwondo, so I figure I'm at the dojang six hours a week anyway, so I might as well do something. It was either that or swimming while my kids are at the pool, but I dislike water.

The first class was tiring, but refreshing as well (the kids love that I'm a grownup with a white belt).

The second class, though, I kicked the target wrong. I broke two toe nails. I really jacked up my big toe. I bled all over the gym. It's sooooo embarassing.

It also hurt A LOT. I didnt take a single Oxy after my surgery, but a took two last night to sleep.

Right now, I can't even walk, so I'm going to take a break until the Tuesday class.

 

 

This week has been a doozy.

First, I've lost nothing in two weeks. I know it's just a stall, but it still sucks. Second, I'm now introducing regular foods, coming off of soft foods, and there are definitely mixed results. One-quarter of a hamburger patty? That bad boy came right back up, but not without my stomach telling me exactly what it thought, first. Lemongrass tofu? Well, it used to be my favorite. Now, it's delicious going down and not so good on the return trip. Fortunately, vomitting isn't as unpleasant since I have close to no stomach acid. One the other hand, I have no problems with eggs in any form or with 100-calorie almond packs. It's pretty random what works and what doesn't.

Sunday morning, 4am, my sister called my mom and said she needed help. Mom found her passed out in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor. She was rushed to the hospital where her blood count was three. They did an ultrasound and said it looked like cancer, and by noon were doing an emergency hysterectomy. Four hours in, the surgeon comes out and says that she's never seen so much blood in her career. They gave my sister 38 units of blood and blood products. Surgeon said she's never seen anything like it before, but she thinks it's a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Basically, the surgeon thought my sister was terminally ill. Also, in the rush to get the hemorrhaging uterus out, she cut the bladder and ureter, so a urologist was having to put it all back together. The tumor weighed twelve pounds.

After eight hours of surgery, Sister was in ICU on life support. They did not think she would survive the operation, much less the night. They told us she would be on life support at least a couplle of days. Anyway, an hour after arriving home, the hospital called and said she had woken up and was trying to pull out her breathing tube, so they took her off. The next morning, she was conscious and lucid and they transferred her to recovery. On Thursday, she was released.

Thursday morning the path results came in. The pathologist had told the surgeon that he was certain it was cancer--it looked like cancer, but when he tested it, it came up benign. He sent it out to another lab to be sure, and they discovered that it is a very rare type of tumor, but it is benign, and the surgeon got it all. The oncologist said that she was comfortable with no further followup.

This week, I went from being certain I was going to lose my sister, to being relieved she's fine (though we now need to figure out how she's going to live since she can't work for six weeks!). So now I'm looking for work a bit desperately. I did have a phone interview yesterday. Down side--the job is a bit beneath my skill set. Up side--it has full benefits, so we wouldn't have to keep paying $1000 a month for insurance. We'll see if they call back.

The stress caused me to overeat for the first time since surgery. I ate 1000 calories on Wednesday, including a small piece of tortilla--not a huge slip, but not auspicious nonetheless. I'm so disappointed with myself. 

I'm going to focus on the good things: I finished some contract work yesterday, so I should be getting a hefty paycheck for that. My sixth-grade daughter competed in her first cross-country meet. She came in with the middle of the pack. I'm really proud of her. My husband had a breakthrough in his research, and we are, as a family, healthy, happy, and alive.

 

Big milestone day for me. Yesterday, I weighed in at 200 lbs. This morning: 197.

Today means:

• Today was my oldest’s first day of middle school. Damn. I feel old.
• Today I got my first pair of prescription glasses ever. Damn, damn. I am ancient.
• Today was my first foray into Onderland.
• Today, I have lost exactly 50 pounds.
• Today, I weigh what I did when my son was born.

Heck of a day, all around.

When I left off last time, I was still on the liquid diet and getting a little desperate for food. Now on purees, it's...well...totally meh. I am really glad I get to eat, and I am having no problems eating, but I feel like I'd be just as happy eating one meal a day as three.

I'm averaging about 500 calories a day, 70 grams of protein. My surgeon says I need to bump that up closer to 800 calories a day. I'm just too full to do it right now. I'd have to drink the calories, which is a habit I'd rather not get in to.

I lost my job this week. It's nothing to do with WLS--our company went under because of a lawsuit. So now I have to find something else. I work in such an appearance-centric field (media) that I was really hoping to have lost quite a bit more before job hunting. Once, when I was at my high weight (250), we were approached by a local TV station to do a series on a subject I am an expert in. However, once they saw me, they reneged. They said either my attractive co-worker needed to do the spot (I have multiple degrees and years of experience. She dropped out of college and was working there six months...), or they'd cancel it altogether. Anyway, this is the environment I need to job search in, and I'm still really fat.

I've hit the three-week stall. I had hoped I would skip over that tired trope, but no such luck. The scale hasn't budged in a week. I know everyone says not to look at the scale every day, but that's just not going to happen with me. I do take enormous comfort in the fact that I know it's both common to WLS and temporary.

I've lost 44 pounds (32 of them pre-surgery), so I've gone from a size 20-22 to a 16. I feel so much better about myself, though right now it's hard not to feel like I was doing better without surgery, since I lost it faster before.

However, DH hasn't noticed a thing. He didn't notice when I was really fat. He hasn't noticed me not-so-fat, and I doubt he'll notice when I'm much thinner. He just sees me as me. When I was first thinking about surgery, he was behind me 100%. Now that I've been losing and he can't tell the difference, I asked him why, if he didn't care about the weight, was he willing to do this with me, to spend so much money and effort on this. He told me, "I know how unhappy you've been about the way you look. I just want you to be happy." I love him.

One huge difference is that I've started to feel feminine. Being fat, I always felt, I guess, like less of a woman, a sexless, amorphous blob. Now that that's changing, I am wearing jewelry. I got a mani-pedi for the first time in years. I'm checking clothes for flattering fit rather than whether they fit at all. Even though I have a long way to go (I've still got 66% of my excess weight to lose until goal), I am starting to feel like me again, and I haven't been me in a long time.