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This past weekend I traveled to Sacramento, CA to visit some very very good friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. They have a daughter who is growing up way too fast and I was missing her terribly. V suggested a somewhat last minute trip as part of Valentine’s Day. Who was I to refuse such a lovely gift? As the days until the trip crawled by I realized that I hadn’t traveled by plane since last April when I went to Brussels. I had only lost about 17 pounds at that point, and still had to ask for the extension for the seatbelt. ((I remember the stewardess that handed it to me was so very kind, “They don’t make these seatbelts as long as they used to; especially not in these back rows.” And she had the kindest smile on her face. Not pity, but genuine caring and kindness. Maybe she was fat at some point, and knew that fat folks just need kindness and not a judgmental eye. Everyone is fighting a battle, so be kind.)) Here’s an interesting thing: I don’t see a different person when I look in the mirror. I don’t see someone who has lost 84 pounds. I see me: a fat girl with an attitude who isn’t taking nothing from nobody. When I look at photos from myself from a year ago, and then look at myself I can see the difference. And it is startling. But when it’s just my current face and body, I just don’t see it. So here I was thinking about how we had to get Economy Plus seating on the plane so I would have room for my legs and tray table and all my fatness. ((Those extra 5 inches make ALL the difference when you’re fat.)) The tickets were an extra $70 more each way, so we could have slightly nicer seats. ((Also, we wanted to sit next to each other, and the only way it was going to happen was in Economy Plus. Otherwise we’d be at opposite ends of the plane. In middle seats. No lie. The airline industry is doing just fine. 2 weeks out and our plane was already overbooked…)) Fast forward to last week when we were RUNNING through IAD to catch our plane, thanks to circumstances 100% out of our control. ((If you’re ever flying out of IAD, allow 1.5 hours at the airport for domestic flights; 2.5 hours for international flights. Trust me.)) We got on the plane, by the skin of our teeth, and sat down in our seats, breathless. We stashed our carry ons. I grabbed my seat belt and buckled it. And then I noticed this: Look how much slack there is! I used to have to such my stomach in, hold my breath, barely get eh thing buckled and then massage the belt under my stomach fat roll. Much like many men who insist on never buying the right size pants and instead wear it WAY below their giant stomachs. ((I always wonder how they keep their pants up. My mom says it’s with their dicks. I’m not certain their dicks are that strong.)) Then I folded down my tray table. And noticed this: Even when I was in Economy Plus before, with the extra 5 inches, I’d be tightly pressed against the tray. In a regular seat I wouldn’t even be able to use the tray at all. Again, I took it all in stride. This was just my life, this is how it would always be. Except that now it’s not. Now it’s nice to travel in a plane. Comfortable even. It was easy to get up and walk around and be able to squeeze around other folks in the aisles and not have to worry (as much) about shoving my butt in someone else’s face. Or worse, have to walk well out of my way (which on a plane can be almost impossible) to avoid not having to squeeze past someone. I’m finding a lot of those kind of things lately. Examples of how different my life is. While out on my bi-daily (tri-weekly?) run around Sac more than 1 car honked at me. Which we all know is the international symbol for “Hey sexy! I’m a man who doesn’t know how to communicate other than honking my horn at you!” Sitting at Starbucks, I get smiled at. More than usual. More than I remember. And maybe that’s what weird. Maybe these things DID happen when I was fatter. And maybe it’s that I didn’t notice because of my own body image issues. And now I have this confidence (others have noticed it too). I’m feeling so much more comfortable, and a bit sexy, in my new skin (even though when I’m naked it’s a bit of a freak show). Perhaps I walk taller. Perhaps I sway my hips a bit more. Perhaps I smile at the right time. Perhaps now that I’m smaller I’m seen as more attractive, more valuable, more worthy. And now my natural flirtiness (which I’ve always had) is allowed to be returned, seen, engaged with. But that would mean that people are jerks, right? I think I’ll just stick with the idea that I’m more confident. And really comfortable in this airplane seat. #flying #postsurgery

I do my thinking when I’m running. A lot of thinking. Siri gets quite the workout because I’ve discovered I can’t run and write. And if I don’t write it down right away, it’ll be gone. One of my BFOs (blinding flash of the obvious) was that I didn’t care how I looked while I was running. Here it is: The One Step Solution for Getting Over Your Body Image Issues 1. Take up a fitness activity that requires new clothing. That’s it. Here’s the thing, when you start running/playing tennis/soccer/swimming you think, “I’ll just use whatever it is I have in the closet. These old sweatpants will work. I don’t need a new bra, this one will work. And here’s that old ratty t-shirt/swimsuit. Ok! Let’s go!” That will work. It will! For a bit. Until you get semi-serious about your new fitness activity. Then you’ll realize it’d be nice to have some pants that you didn’t have to unpick from your crotch every 10 steps. And a shirt that didn’t rub against your collarbone and cause a rash. And perhaps a real sports bra that held your boobs in place so they don’t slap you in the face (that might be a bit extreme, but sometimes…) Or maybe a swimsuit that doesn’t have tiny holes in the butt (from sliding along the concrete deck for so many years). You decide to invest some money in your new activity. And you should. Having the right clothes for your activity is huge. You wouldn’t try to run a marathon in flip flops, right? You take yourself to the sports store. You pick out a pair of capri pants, a bra and a few shirts. They are all in colors you like. “I’m going to look so stylish!” you think. In the changing room you realize something very important – Your body doesn’t look ANYTHING like those bodies in the ads. You’ve got rolls of fat in places you didn’t realize you had rolls of fat. And is that how my boobs are supposed to look? You must have the wrong size. You go back to the racks and pick out the right size. Except that they don’t have those awesome colors in your size. All they have is puke green pants and an awful neon yellow shirt. And some sort of electric blue bra. *sigh* You try these on and they fit. Except you still don’t look like the bodies in the ads. You’ve still got rolls of fat in places that you didn’t notice before. Sports clothing is supposed to be rather skin tight. Not restraining-oh-my-gosh-i-can’t-breathe tight, but you don’t want stuff flapping around. And if it fits right, it’ll hold all those loose things that flap around in one place. And, unfortunately, highlight all the not-so-tight areas of your beautiful body. You stand in front of the mirror. You look like the vomit from someone’s bad acid trip. You run in place in the changing room. It feels GOOD. Really good. You carefully open the door and do a sprint around the store, just to make sure they fit well. They do. You buy them. You keep the receipt, just in case. The next day you put on your new clothes and lace up your shoes and head out. If you’re like me, you’ve got a belt with holders for your water bottles. That’s when you realize that the belt really helps the pants to accentuate your fat rolls. So much so that it looks like you’ve got 3 rolls of fat, somehow. (Here’s the thing, my stomach skin and fat is really really pliable right now. So before you suggest that I’m wearing my belt too tight, I’m not. There is no firmness in my stomach anymore. I’ve got to cinch it down (it’s not painful) to hold it in place.) So you scrunch it down to be around your hips. But then your pants roll down. And that’s uncomfortable. So you move it back up to about 3 inches above your bellybutton. It might look silly, but it’s comfortable. And everything stays in place. And there’s the lesson: It doesn’t matter how silly you look, if it’s comfortable, you’re going to wear it. It doesn’t matter if your hips look huge. It doesn’t matter if your stomach’s fat rolls are really highlighted. If it makes you able to get active and be comfortable, you’re going to do it. I spend about 20 minutes of every gym session staring at myself in the mirror (working the dumbbells; form is important!). I have to look at how ridiculous and ugly I think I look for 20 solid minutes. I realized I could make a choice. I could choose to look at my ugly stomach and its fat rolls or I could choose to look at my super sexy arms doing their best to lift those heavy weights. Guess where I look. Where are you going to choose to look? the one step solution for getting over your body image issues Photo courtesy Missy Schmidt/Flickr (https://www.flickr.com/photos/hamptonroadspartnership/5330031405/in/photostream/)

This post is long overdue, but for good reason. I had my 6 month post-surgery checkup last week. I was hoping there would be a funny story that came out of it (like at my 3 month check-up), but no luck. Here’s the story of my 3 month check-up. I went in, hopped on the scale, got all my vitals checked. All the important things. Dr. Mayes came in and we chatted. I asked about going skiing (wait until next season, to be safe). We talked about exercise and making sure I was getting enough protein. Then he looked at my face and skin. Made me cough while he felt my scars (for hernias). I passed with flying colors. Then he said, “I think you’re doing well. Your color looks good, you look moist.” I stopped and giggled. “I look moist? That sounds….. weird.” (At this point I wasn’t thinking it was weird. I was thinking it was dirty. ANd on the verge of inappropriate. Not for me, of course, but maybe for someone else. I must have turned quite red because he started to laugh a little and quickly said, “You know, your skin looks good, your eyes are bright, your brain is obviously functioning well. I can tell you’re well hydrated.” I politely suggested he find another way to tell his patients this. Something that didn’t include the word moist. He chuckled and we ended the visit. Now, as a joke about once a week, V tells me I look moist. He means it as a compliment. A genuine compliment. Perhaps this will take the world by storm… complimenting folks by telling them they look moist. You all look very moist today. — I gained a pound last week. I was really pissed about it, and didn’t even log it because I was convinced the scale was wrong. Then, over breakfast I thought about how I hadn’t gone to the gym in 3 weeks. And hadn’t had a run in 2 weeks. (In my defense, not as an excuse, we were traveling and then we were REALLY sick. Not getting out of bed for 3 days sick. Missing games night sick. Barely able to breathe sick.) When I thought about that, the lack of exercise, I realized the fact that I had only gained a pound was actually a relief. I also ate a LOT of crap while I was sick. When you’re sick all you want is delicious things. That’s one of the only ways you can feel better. You’re also trying to give your body energy to heal. Also, I couldn’t go to the store. That’s how sick I was. We had to eat whatever we had! And sometimes that meant crap. This week, I’m back on the horse. I went to the gym three days, and did good workouts. I ran once, and almost died. I decided to focus on getting to the gym, and worry about adding back in the running next week. Thanks to a good friend who is an amazing runner, I’ve got a great 12 week plan to prep for that 5K at the end of May. It also means making good food choices, and not letting myself get derailed again. I know what I have to do, I just have to do it. And somehow ignore the Cookie Monster in my head.

Upfront, right away: this post is about sex. More specifically, about sex post-surgery. And pre-surgery. It’s not graphic, but it’s pretty matter-of-fact. I’m going to call a vagina a vagina, not a hoo-ha or some other clever alias. If you’re uncomfortable with that, stop reading now. I fully expect that this will be the least read post on my blog. I’m OK with that. Anyone who knows me well enough and for long enough knows that I’ve never shied away about talking about sex. ((As a funny example: I may or may not have mentioned, while my 14-year old nephew was in the room, that V and I were looking forward to “having sex all over the house, since the in-laws were gone.” He laughed. Good kid.)) I embrace almost all forms of sexuality, even if it’s not my cup of tea. Whether you like whips and chains or dressing up in a furry costume I’ve always said, “Whatever floats your boat, so long as it doesn’t rock mine.” My personal sex life is quite vanilla. Though it’s also very fulfilling. It hasn’t always been, but as I’ve grown older and had more partners I’ve learned that if I don’t make sure I’m satisfied, no one else is going to. And yes, I’ve had multiple partners. Of multiple sexes. If you didn’t know, now you do; I always have, and still do, consider myself bisexual. But that’s not what this post about. ((Though I do realize that I just came out to the whole world. Well, the ones who didn’t know. That’s probably a lot of you. Sorry to be so impersonal about it. It’s just never been a big deal for me.)) And I’m a huge proponent of sex before marriage, but not before love. Make smart choices. But that’s also not what this post is about. This post is about how much my sex life and sexual satisfaction has improved since losing 50-82 pounds. Because I was super surprised about it. I’ve always been very satisfied with the sex V and I have. Especially since we hit our stride about 4 years ago. Something about being married for 2 years allowed us to have some serious (and seriously sexy) discussions about satisfaction and all that. Sex has always been good for both of us. Friends will tell you that one of the reasons I knew V was my soulmate/bishert/”one” is because the sex was off the charts from month 1. (I say month 1 because I had to know I loved him before we had sex. I knew from date #3, about 3 weeks in. The extra week was for a frank discussion about protection. Make smart choices.) I started thinking about the improved sex a few weeks ago. I actually brought it up in the sweet after-sex pillow talk last week. V agreed that he had noticed a difference in frequency and in my satisfaction. Whether it’s that I have more energy or that my hormones are cycling like a normal woman’s for the first time ever, I don’t know. Here’s my advice if you’re unhappy with your current partner, or your current level of satisfaction: 1. Have an open and frank discussion with your partner. Maybe they are also unsatisfied. If you are both unhappy there are many many very fun ways to figure out how to make each other happy. 2. Get some exercise. Anything to get your endorphin levels up. You’ll be happier, and in the long run, have more energy. 3. If you need to lose weight, do it. Stop making excuses. Start making a plan. 4. Stop drinking soda! Drink more water. ((This might not be necessary for better sex, but do you know how bad soda is for you? All that junk can’t be good for the systems in your body.)) 5. Eat less or no meat. Stop eating processed crap food. Eat more veggies and fruits. And if you’re going to eat meat (I eat quite a bit of chicken to get all my protein for the day), make sure it’s organic and free-range. Same for those veggies and fruits. ((This also might not be necessary for better sex, but do you know how bad processed foods and meats are? All that junk can’t be good for the systems in your body.)) Let’s be clear – I’m not saying fat people can’t have good and satisfying sex. I had excellent sex when I was fat. I’m continuing to have excellent and satisfying sex, and I still consider myself fat. I’m saying that this is my experience: losing weight improved my sex life. It improved all of my life, in every aspect. And if you’re unsatisfied, whether it’s in bed (or the kitchen, or the living room, or the shower) or in your life in general, figure out how to get satisfaction. Get rid of all the junk that is cluttering up your life, whether it’s literally junk, or junk food, or a junk partner. You have choices, you really really do. Make smart ones. #health #satisfaction #verticalsleevegastrectomy #sex #fat #postsurgery

I love being in the kitchen. I love cooking. And with this new stomach of mine, I’m having to be creative to make foods that are tasty, and packed with protein. I also have the added challenge of making things I can eat on the go (a big no-no, but a reality of my life, job and place of residence. I mean, really. If you had to be at a meeting at 6:30am, and it took you 45 minutes to get there, and you had to eat breakfast, slowly, over a 30 minute period, are you going to wake up 30 extra minutes early, or are you going to eat breakfast slowly during your 45 minute drive to that early meeting? Exactly.) I found the original great recipe at The World According to Eggface, but modified it to include some extra tastiness. I’ve made it twice now, and loved it both times. Ultimately you can make this recipe your own. Use pork instead of chicken. Use more cheese and make it vegetarian. Use broccoli instead of spinach. Or kale! If you modify it, leave me a comment and let me know how it turns out. I’ll be making these every week for the next months and years. I’m certain. Quinoa Chicken Spinach Tasties – makes 12 cupcake sized quiche like things Ingredients: 8 ounces cooked chicken, shredded (I used leftovers from a roast crock-potted chicken) 1 cup cooked multi-color quinoa 6 eggs 4 ounces shredded cheddar cheese (or any delicious cheese you’d like. Make sure it melts good!) half a bag of frozen spinach (8 ounces-ish), thawed and cooked a bit Directions: 1. Preheat oven to 350 F. 2. Mix all ingredients together in a bowl. If the chicken or spinach is warm, let it cool a bit, so you don’t cook/scramble the eggs before their time. I call this the “raw goop” stage. 3. Get a cupcake pan, or a mini-cupcake pan. Make a choice: use cupcake liners or not. 3a. No liners- Oil the crap out of the cupcake pan. I use an olive oil spray (homemade). I hear coconut oil works well too. Don’t do this too early. Grease the cups *right before* you fill them with the raw goop. 3b. Liners- Place the cupcake liners in the cupcake pan. I used metal ones, but then had to remove them when I went to microwave the individual bites. I chose not to use them the second time. If someone uses paper liners, let me know how those work for you. 4. Divide the raw goop into the cupcake pan. I started with about a 1/4 cup into each cup. Whatever was left I used to top off the cups that looked a little low. Made 12 perfectly! 5. Place the raw tasties in the oven. Bake for 20-30 minutes. Since ovens vary, and have hot and cold spots, start checking at 20 minutes. They are done when they look like this: 6. Let the tasties cool for at least an hour. (I left them for 4 hours, but I had to run to a meeting!). Run a nice sharp thin knife around the edges of the tasties. Or, if you’re lucky and you greased well, flip the pan over and watch the tasties fall out. 7. Make a choice: store or eat right away! 7a. To store, place in a tupperware or a freezer bag and store in the fridge or freezer. I keep them in the fridge for about 2 weeks. (I only eat one a day. So 12 days). If you’re going to freeze them, why not freeze them in individual snack size bags, to make it easier to defrost and reheat? 7b. Eat them all right away! I imagine these would make a delicious addition to a brunch spread, or appetizers at a party. Or, for regular eating folks, 2 of them and a green salad would make a great lunch or dinner. I’m purposely not including nutritional information for this recipe, because it can differ so much depending on your ingredients. If you want a great app that can help you figure out the nutritional values for your favorite homemade recipes, and track your food, try My Fitness Pal. It’s free. And if you’re not a smartphone user, the website is amazing. #cheese #verticalsleevegastrectomy #recipe #egg #quiche #chicken #quinoa

I am tired of all this bullshit. I’m tired of worrying about protein. I’m tired of worrying about vomiting or pooping in public. I’m tired of running/walking. I’m tired of hiking my pants up all the time because they are too big. I’m tired, because sleeping is weird and I’m not eating enough and I’m working the same amount as pre-surgery. This is not to be confused with the fact that I am also happy. I’m so happy to hike those pants up all the time, because it means my knees aren’t aching as much. I’m happy to be using the third set of hooks on my bra. I’m happy to be able to drink coffee again. I’m happy to be able eat almost anything, and not have a terrible reaction. I’m happy for the energy I have and the things I can do. But still, I really REALLY want a frozen custard caramel sundae from The Dairy Godmother in Del Ray. I know how good it tastes. I know how awesome I feel when I eat it. I also know it’ll probably make me sick afterwards. And that makes me sad. Like super sad, because that sundae, and ice cream, are my best friends for my whole life. And on Tuesday, as I was watching the returns for the governor’s race here in Virginia, I was so depressed (it turned around, no worries, I’m no longer depressed about that) and I really wanted some ice cream. Because ice cream makes the world a better place. Instead I had tea. But I was really unsatisfied. Which brings me to another issue. I have no sex drive. ZERO. Whether that’s because I’m tired, or because my hormones are all weird, or just because I feel very alone much of the time and the last thing I want is to be intimate with someone who has been ignoring me until the moment he decided he wanted to have sex, I don’t know. But I’ve never had such a dry spell. I didn’t exercise for two days, speaking of dry spells. I was working the election for one, and couldn’t squeeze in a workout before 4:30am or after 9:30pm. The next day I was exhausted and decided to stay in bed. I felt off, without the running, but also it was nice to have a break. And then I skipped a day this weekend. Feeling alone and being depressed can really ruin your mood for everything. ((Just so you don’t worry, I did visit my psychiatrist this morning. He didn’t even recognize me! The depression is under control. I think getting back on a regular exercise regimen will help too. More about that later. Cliff notes: I’m not going to hurt myself. Promise.)) I had two bites of a pastry last Thursday at a meeting. Almond. It was delicious and I didn’t throw up. Or poop my pants. Which makes me sad. Because that means that I can eat that crap. And I was hoping my body would reject it. I have to forget that I can eat it. I have to. I’ve only lost 5 pounds over the last three weeks. And I feel ashamed of myself. Because I feel like I should be being amazing, because so many of you tell me how much I inspire you. So I feel like I have to be awesomely amazing. Then while on a run this afternoon I had a huge blinding flash of the obvious (BFO). I’ve slacked. Slacked slacked slacked. Remember how I lost 30 pounds in the first month without even thinking too hard? I remember that the pounds literally melted off. I remember that I was tired and sore. What I don’t remember, even though it was just 2 months ago, is that I walked 3 times a day. That I ate the smallest amount of food possible. And it was all good for me food. No crap, AT ALL. I got a lot of sleep. I made exercise a priority. I made eating the right food a priority. I made sleep a priority. Fast forward to yesterday. I didn’t walk. I ate poorly. I lounged in bed a lot. I had forgotten how hard I worked, not only in the 8 months leading up to surgery, but in the month or two post-surgery. I had remembered it was easy, when it was anything but. I figured I could be lazy and the pounds would just disappear. I was so so so very wrong. Delusional? Deluded? And I’m just realizing it now. I’m realizing that I need to run every day, and walk every evening. I need to watch what I eat. Just because I can eat a pastry without getting sick doesn’t mean that I should. I have a request of you, my world. If you see me, e-mail me, call me, text me…. ask me if I’ve walked/run today. Just add it to the bottom of the e-mail, or the text. Ask me it as a parting question. That’s it. And remind me to answer honestly. When the rest of these pounds melt off (because I fucking burned them off!) I’ll be able to thank all of you for holding me to my word. It’ll be like we ALL lost these 150 pounds. Wouldn’t that be awesome? #health #sleevegastrectomy #energy #blindingflashoftheobvious #bullshit #struggle #postsurgery

((I started writing this on September 16, the three week anniversary. But I wasn’t feeling it. So I stopped. I finished it up today, because I don’t like leaving things unfinished.)) I’ve been in the kitchen. Oh how I’ve missed cooking! I got a great GREAT book called “Eating Well After Weight Loss Surgery” (http://amzn.com/1569244537) and it’s full of delicious recipes. Of course, being only 3 weeks post, I can’t push it, but it gave me hope for delicious protein filled awesomeness in my future. Of course, what I need right now is lots of sauces and things to make the food I’m eating moist. And still delicious. I spotted a Caesar Sauce and knew it had to be made. After some shopping at Whole Foods I came home and spent time in the kitchen. A place I thought I’d never spend time in again. For whatever reason, I just figured I’d never be creative in the kitchen again. I had such fun. I made the sauce. I crock-potted a chicken. I made homemade broth. I made Vince’s lunches for the week (chicken with rice and green beans, in the rice cooker). I started to feel human again. I started to feel like me again. #recipes #verticalsleevegastrectomy #cooking #kitchen #foodie

I follow a lot of blogs. Mostly ones about cooking and baking and preserving because those are the things that I love. I also hate the word skinny. Stephie, over at Eat Your Heart Out has written a great post about that very word. Rethinking skinny.. What do you think?

Today is 4 months post surgery. I’ll be busy today. Which I can’t say is true of the 3 month, 2 month or 1 month mark; I’m starting to feel and act like a human again. Later today we’ll travel to C and M’s house, my sister-in-law and her husband. I’m excited for a mini trip, since the last one went fairly well. We’ll be there for 4 days and celebrate Christmas with V’s side of the family. Aside from minor worrying about food, I’ve been excited about the trip. Of course, I almost always worry about food, so that’s no different than usual. And to be clear, it’s not worrying like the normal person might worry. It’s more: Will there be enough protein I can eat? What if there are cookies, or cake, or mashed potatoes? What’s my plan for that? What if there’s alcohol or soda? What if there is something I can’t eat? Do I eat it anyway, to be polite? Just the normal worryings of a post-surgery girl. The answers, in case you’re wondering…. (All said in a ‘go get ’em’ coaching voice to myself) There may or may not be enough protein. You’ve always got your back up protein drink mix in your purse. You may eat one cookie, or one bite of cake. Potatoes are a no-no. Stay strong. No alcohol. Get used to water. No carbonation. Get used to water. Don’t eat anything you don’t want to. You’re not a people pleaser anymore. Make good choices, for yourself. At the end of the day, that’s the only person you have to answer to. I’ve been going through my old t-shirts to find something to wear. I put on an XL two days ago that I bought almost 2 years ago on a trip to Nova Scotia. I was so surprised when it fit. I mean that it didn’t look ridiculous. I looked like a regular person. But, trust me, you are not interested in seeing me naked, as good as I look with clothes on, that’s the limit. My body is like a freak show. I can literally grab handfuls of my thighs and my stomach. I actually made V laugh last week by grabbing everything I could of my stomach and smoothing it all together. It was disgusting and hilarious. I’m down 74 pounds. Almost, so close, thisclose, to being halfway (75 pounds). I was beating myself up about only losing 2 pounds over the last two weeks, but then I thought about the 4-5 parties we’ve been too. And all the crap I had been eating. It doesn’t matter how little you eat, it’s still crap. And I paid for it with terrible constipation and an upset stomach. My workout schedule has also been off. But now that I’m at the 4 month mark, I can head back to the gym for some light weight lifting and circuit training. My favorite. Couple that with the running and I think I’ll start to see those pounds drop off again, then those occasional cookies won’t be so bad.

I am a third of the way done. Here’s the timeline January 1, 2013 – 307 pounds (the biggest I’ve ever been) April 30, 2013 – 292 pounds (I know because it’s my birthday, and I was in Paris, and I was so proud I had lost 15 pounds) August 26, 2013 – 290 pounds (my surgery date) October 7, 2013 – 257 pounds It’s a lot, and pretty fast. And my surgeon even mentioned that I was going a little fast. So I’m trying to eat a little more. But couple that with the new addition of running, and I don’t think I’ll be able to slow down! So I’ve set myself a very attainable and crazy goal. 75 pounds in 200 days. I’ll start the counting on October 7, 2013, which makes my end date April 25, 2014. (Just in time for my birthday!) What do you want to challenge yourself with for the next 200 days? Maybe it’s only 20 pounds, maybe it’s to stop drinking soda, or to eat more veggies. Maybe ti’s doing more yoga, or running. Maybe it’s giving up smoking, or alcohol. Whatever it is, post it here, and in 200 days we’ll assess where we are. Maybe you’ll find a buddy who can help you through it! For the record, 75 pounds in 200 days isn’t awful. It’s about 2.6 pounds a week. Which, for someone like me (who’s had surgery and is on a super crazy diet), isn’t terribly unhealthy. But, I’m also being supervised every step of the way by 2 nutritionists, a surgeon and a doctor. If weight loss is your goal, please PLEASE consult a nutritionist, health coach, doctor or homeopath and make sure that your goal is healthy and sustainable. I know good people that fit any and all of these categories, and I’d be happy to introduce you. So what’s your 200 day challenge? #200daychallenge #257 #weightloss

Today marks the 2 week anniversary of my surgery. And I spent the whole day in bed. I haven’t been writing much because it’s hard to sit in front of the computer for more than an hour at a time. But I’ve found a nice workaround involving my iPad mini, my bluetooth keyboard (from my computer), a comfortable lap desk and the WordPress app. And I didn’t want to write because today was a bad day. But I realized on my 10 minute walk that writing on the bad days was just as important as writing on the good days. And why is today a bad day? I woke up at 8am, ready for breakfast, a shower and a meeting at 10am in Tysons. As I stood up, I had a pretty big pain in my right lower abdomen. Where my biggest scar is, and where I’ve always had the biggest pain during this process. At first, panic. Did I bust a stitch? Am I leaking? Do I need to go to the hospital? No. Standing is OK. Laying down is also OK. And sitting is even OK. But movement seems to be the culprit. I hobbled downstairs and made my morning protein smoothie. Then back to bed with an ice pack to email the people I was meeting with to cancel. No way I was leaving the house with this unknown pain. An hour or so later I switched the ice pack for a heating pad. Another hour later and I felt better. 6 hours of TV and a movie later and I could move around the house with almost zero pain. Thank goodness. What did it? Doing the dishes yesterday? Bending down to pet the cats too often? Putting boxes in the recycling? Sitting too long at the computer? Walking up 2 flights of stairs to my sister’s apartment? Who knows. But I do know that I’m not going to do any of that for another week. On a more positive note- I’ve eaten a lot of delicious things over the past few days. A smaller than small piece of chocolate, chicken, baked beans, feta cheese, tuna fish, black olive slices, cottage cheese, egg whites with laughing cow cheese, a really delicious high protein chocolate “pudding” I concocted from greek yogurt, milk and chocolate protein powder. Everything is in ridiculously small bites and I have to wait a few minutes to make sure it doesn’t come back up. So the baked beans? It was 3 beans. And the black olive slices? 2 of them; slices, not olives. And I could only eat half of the ounce size piece of chicken. But God, it was good. All of it. You may want to stop reading, because it gets super personal, and it’s about marriage, but it’s important to get these things down. I feel that it’s important for people to see the gritty dirty side of what happens after surgery. Inside me is still a girl with issues about food, going through the ultimate denial. And trying to stay married. And sane. It’s been tough around the house too, since my mom left. She was super helpful and very positive. She wouldn’t eat around me, unless I was eating. She made sure I went walking, bent over to get me stuff, did cleaning and dishes without being asked. V has been less than helpful, and he’s been mean. But here’s the thing: he doesn’t even realize it. So I got a little angry yesterday, and yelled at him a lot. Mainly for eating guacamole (my favorite thing in the whole world) and crunchy tacos in front of me. I’ve said it before that there is nothing I miss more than the mouthfeel of crunchiness. It’s pretty much the only thing I’ve complained about. And since everything has to be soft for the next 2 weeks, and has been for the past 3 weeks, I’m getting to my breaking point. Even the littlest temptation is almost irresistible and painful. Emotionally and physically painful. Cue the smell of hot crunchy tacos in my house and a husband complaining about how his huge container of guacamole (that I advised against buying) is going to go bad before he can even eat it. I lost it. Big time. Here’s the thing. I don’t think I was unjustified. V is unable to think or care outside of himself, in some situations. Usually I can deal with it, I take care of myself, or do what needs to be done. I long ago put to rest any romantic notions of flowers for no reason, or cards in the mail or breakfast in bed or even chicken soup when I’m sick. But right now, I’m at 50%. I’m doing exactly what I need to do stay alive, and barely keep my business running. I need the person closest to me to help with that other 50%. Like doing the dishes and taking out the trash without asking. Like my mom did. Maybe men are biologically incapable of being good caretakers? Maybe just my partner is. So I’ll struggle on. Doing what I can to take care of myself, asking for help from others when I need it. Just not my partner. #sleevegastrectomy #guacamole #marriage #struggle #pain

Originally posted on Facebook on August 24, 2013 What is the recovery process like? How soon are you up and about again and what is the process for reintroducing foods into your diet? Recovery is a long road, not because of the surgery itself, but because you have to re-learn how to eat for a totally new stomach. I’ll be up and about that day, to make sure I don’t get blood clots in my legs. For the first 2-3 days it’s nothing but clear liquids, which means water and chicken broth. The next morning I’ll go for an upper GI X-ray, where I’ll drink some barium and they will watch it go through my whole system, to make sure everything still works right, and there aren’t any blockages or unusual swelling. I’ll go home Tuesday evening, most likely, and for the next two weeks, it’s a total liquid diet, much like the one I’ve been having all this week. Water and protein shakes. But in very very small quantities constantly. I won’t be able to chug my giant 32 ounce water bottle in one swig anymore! It’s something like 2 ounces of water or protein drink every 10 minutes the whole day. And some light walking. And deep breathing exercises. After 2 weeks I can start introducing regular food back into my diet, but it all has to be the consistency of applesauce. Baby food, anyone? And I have to eat a tremendous amount of protein. Tremendous = 70-90 grams of protein a day. So three meals that are about a quarter of a cup of total food (half of that being protein), and two protein shakes to supplement. Of course hydration is important. But you can’t drink for 30 minutes before or after every meal. The stomach is so super small, and the point is to keep it as small as possible for as long as possible. Eating too much too fast will do a variety of things, including stretching the stomach, but also lead to dumping syndrome (it is exactly what it sounds like) and vomiting (gross). After 2 more weeks I can try not-pureed food. Some people take 6 weeks to get to this stage, some people are there at 3 weeks. It’s all about trying, eating slowly, and waiting to see how your body reacts. Long term? I’ll always eat less. And I should avoid bread, rice, pasta, red meat and really high fiber stuff. They stress your stomach, and cause it to stretch. And keeping the stomach small is what keeps you a successful surgery patient in the long run. #recovery #sleevegastrectomy