10% DOWN!!!

I made my 10%.  I feel like I should give myself a little charm Weight Watchers style.  I have some other NSVs to report as well:

• I am comfortably wearing an 18 from Old Navy.  
• I am 9.25 inches down off of my body total.  I should post my measurements soon!
• I made 60 cupcakes last weekend and only ate 1.  Didn't even have one at the party.
• My disaster-ex flared up again this week and I did NOT eat my pain.  

I have some restriction from the first fill.  Actually, I have a lot of restriction.  I am eating so much less and I am not hungry even if I have gone a while.  It was better last week and this week I am eating slightly more, but I think I am really close to the sweet spot. 

I have not been blogging a lot. The primary reason is that I have been going out again.  Seeing friends.  Working out after work.  Doing things other than coming home and feeling sorry for myself and hiding.  That is no excuse not to blog, but it feels good to be feeling kinda cute again. 


I am going to a party tonight and I plan on spending all day tomorrow catching up on blogs and commenting.  But tonight I am putting on those 18s and strutting my smaller stuff!!

Into the Mouth of the Beast

Off to help a friend make and ice 60 cupcakes for a party tomorrow.  Pray for me. (On a happier note, I retired my old pants. I can remove them without unbuttoning them.  I just bought a pair in a size smaller for said party tomorrow.  I will post pics!)

For better or worse . . . 1 month pictures

First of all, thanks to Jen for showing us all how to do this.  So easy! Jen's Picnik Tutorial

And then extra thanks to my wonderful sister-friends who helped with the photo shoot:  Rebecca, the fabulous photographer; Meghan, the apartment owner with the perfect black photo taking wall; and Catherine, the occasional chandelier holder. Rebecca even made me homemade meatballs because I am still on post-fill mushies. Having a support system during this process is so important and I have such a tremendous one.  Between my large family and all of my friends, I am so supported and loved.

Ok. Can't put it off with Academy Award thank you speeches any longer. 

The pictures. 

Wow.  Eww. Gross.  Don't post them.  Hide them.  Delete them.  These are all thoughts that went through my head upon seeing the collages when I was done.  WHY ISN'T THERE MORE OF A DIFFERENCE????  I can barely see a change and in some of them, I think the afters are slightly fatter than the befores.  How can that be????  I contemplated never posting these, but I promised myself that I would no matter how bad they are and how many months it takes for them to look good. 

I keep repeating "It's only been a month.  It's only been a month."  If I say it enough, maybe I won't jump off of the roof.  Besides no one and I mean NO ONE looks good in too small gym clothes. (Well maybe skinny girls.  But larger-boned girls should avoid this look.)

Without further ado . . .

Please tell me next time my shorts are riding up from chub rub!!

This is the only one where I can see a slight difference.

Can't wait until the back pics don't look like a 5-tiered wedding cake!

My First Fill!

I was dreading it.  Filled with fear.  I am not a huge fan of needles anyway.  Actually that is not true.  I don't mind needles that take stuff out. For instance, I often like to watch while blood is being drawn.  It is needles that put stuff in that I don't like.  Probably something I should have thought about pre-band.

So, I was a nervous wreck waiting for my first fill.  Finally they called me in.  I got on the scale.  Down .5 from the last time I weighed in there.  There was a time in my life when that would have made me leap out of the 10th story window.  But today I just shrugged.  I am eating too much.  I have a teeny bit of restriction, so I am eating less than I used to but way more than 1 cup.  I didn't expect to lose big and at least I didn't rebound from all liquids by gaining. Very Zen.

Then Frank came in to do my fill.  I told him about the weird pressure I feel in the back of my throat when I lie flat on my back.  He said that some people experience it and it is the feeling of the band.  Because of that and because I am eating so much less than before, he decided that I should not be really aggressive with the fill because he thinks I am sensitive to the band.  He decided to go with 3cc. 

I got on the table and he started pressing around for my port.  Then Gaspar came in.  So, my first fill was with both Frank and Gaspar which is terrific.  He located my port and told me to put my arms behind my head and do a crunch.  I did and then before I knew it the needle was in and I was watching the CCs disappear.  It took no more than 2 minutes.  Then it hit me.  Of course it doesn't hurt.  It's fat.  There are no nerves in fat.  The initial prick of the needle through the skin was not even noticeable and it just slid through my lovely insulation.

I am back on liquids for two days.  I'm kinda hungry though.  Ok.  I am really hungry.  I have another appt in 3 weeks, so we'll see.

OH!  I got a trainer today.  More on her later, but I think I love her.  She's so petite and strong and she didn't care that I hadn't shaved my legs in much longer than I care to admit.

To be free one must give up a little part of oneself

I think my band is a man.  My BFF pointed out the other night that a man is usually the inspiration and motivation when women lose weight.  Speaking strictly for myself that is 100% true.  I have always lost weight as a way to get back at a guy and show him what he is missing.  Or get a prom date.  Or impress him with my sleeker physique and make him love me.  Totally unhealthy.  I get that. Anyway, going with tradition, I think my band might be the one man that gets me to goal.  Not any man though. Like 75% of the men in my life, I think my man-band might be gay.  I hereby christen my band after the most fabulous lady-man I know:

Ladies and Gentleman . . . Hedwig!

Bandster Hell

I think I am there. This past week my hunger came back.  With a vengenance.  I feel like I can eat an entire side of beef.  Sadly old habits die pretty hard, so I have tried to do exactly that.  But luckily, my band has stepped in a time or two and told me that while the desire is there, my body has changed.

I got home from work the other night and wandered around looking at menus because I just didn't have the energy to cook.  I ended up gettting two slices of pizza.  One sicilian and one regular.  This was my old standard from Nino's the place across the street.  Often times, I would walk to the bakery to get a slice of red velvet cake while my pizza was being heated.  Then I would walk home thinking, "Is this going to be enough food?"

A quick aside and then back to the pizza story.  I feel like I spent so much time pre-meals worrying about whether or not I was going to have enough food to satisfy my deep hunger pit.  This would often lead to an order of dumplings on top of whatever combination plate I was getting from the Chinese place.  Or garlic knots in addition to the two slices of pizza.  Or mozzarella sticks when I ordered lasagna.  And always a trip to get a cake or cookie to satisfy that need for something sweet after.  Is it any wonder that I weighed 300 lbs!?!?!?!?!?!?  The problem with this strategy was that if the food was in front of me, I would eat it.  Even if I was so full I had to lie down, I would wait until that feeling passed and then finish off whatever was left. 

Ok, back to the other night.  I went upstairs and ate the sicilian slice.  Much too fast and not chewed well enough for sure.  That is going to kick me in the ass after my fill on wednesday.  So then I moved on to the other one and about halfway through I realized that I was eating because it was in my hand  and because I love cheese.  But my body was begging me to stop.  I was uncomfortable, but felt like I had to keep going.  I did the unthinkable and threw it in the bag and then dumped it in the trash. 

I ate a slice and half of pizza (probably could have stopped at 1) for dinner and was done.  Me!  The woman who used to put down 3 slices in one sitting and then nibble on a fourth later that night. 

My weight has been up and down the last couple of weeks as I struggle to keep my portions under control and start introducing real food again.  But I don't give a shit.  (Huge lie, but humor me.)  My point is that the band is doing what it is supposed to.  It is keeping me in check.  It is now up to me to try to listen when the band tells me to slow down. 

Private Panic / Public Fabulousness

So despite my last post, I have been putting on a pretty good game face.  While my plateau is a bit infuriating and causing my inner angst, there have been some good things this week too!

A little background:  I love make-up.  Buying it, wearing it, applying it.  I am good at it.  My gays in my local MAC used to love to see me come in because I bought a crapload of product every time and I would let them experiment with my face. The bolder and brighter the better.  No neutrals. So for me to not wear at least mascara for over a year is a sure sign of MAJOR DEPRESSION.  Part of that is work, part is weight gain, and part is the stormy relationship with the EX.

Work for me is a mixed bag of boredom, frustration, and resignation.  I wish I loved my job, but I really don't.  For the last year, that has been clear to everyone by the hair in a bun at the nape of my neck schoolmarm style and the completely make-up free face I present every morning. 


All of that changed on Monday when I went to work.  I did my hair and put on make-up.  I took care to find a good outfit and I felt great.  I have kept it up every day last week.

Except Thursday.  Thursday I woke up late and didn't do my hair or makeup.  No big deal right.  Well, Thursday night I was sitting on the subway when I looked up and saw this:

MR. BIG was sitting across from me with all of his old Hollywood movie star handsome hotness.  No one else seemed to notice.  I surreptitiously put on some lip gloss and tossed in a piece of gum just in case.  Needless to say, he didn't talk to me.  I mean 29lbs is a great start, but I have a ways to go before I can turn the head of a man who dates women who look like this:

So moral of the story: look your best at all times because you just never know.

Is There a Negligent Blogger Award?

I am one.  A shitty blog writer.  A shitty blog reader.  And a shitty blog supporter. I have no excuse really.  Something is going on with me and I don't want to seem like a whiny baby, so I have not been blogging about it.  I am struggling.  It is more psychological than anything. 

I live in constant fear that I am doing this wrong.  I can't tell if I am eating enough or eating too much because I am never really hungry.  I realize that this is not a problem, but a blessing that I would have given a limb for 3 months. ago.  I am not complaining about that. 

I think this all stems from the fact that the scale has stopped moving.  I have been batting around the same two pounds for a week and the week before I only lost about 2 lbs.  Normal weight loss, I know.  But a severe let down after such big losses.  Basically, I have painted myself into a corner by being so excited about the big losses.  Now that it has stopped, I keep freaking out and wondering if I broke the band. I have a pain in the geneal area where I think the port might be.  Is that it flipping?  I wake up with a weird feeling pressure in the back of my throat if I am lying flat?  Is that an esophogial spasm? 

I AM MAKING MYSELF INSANE WITH WORRY!!!!!

I have got to stop being so neurotic.  The first step to doing that is to give up lapbandtalk. com. Before my surgery, I read every thread every night before I went to bed.  It made me feel informed.  It made me feel closer to my goal of getting banded.  Now that I have gotten banded all I ever seem to read about on there is people failing and weird complications.  For my own sanity, I need to give it a rest and have my own experience. 

If I see one more thread about someone not losing any weight after months of having the band, when I am at a plateau I might cry.  I will go back someday because there are a lot of positive things to learn there, but right now it just feels way too doom and gloom for my present panic. 

I need to pick myself out of this private panic room.  I need a plan.  A plan is only an idea until it is documented.  (Project Management rears its ugly head.)  Here is my plan:

• Start tracking daily intake.  Not to feel like a diet, but just to feel like I have some control and knowledge over what my actual intake is.  I will not do this forever.  Part of getting a band was that I don't want to spend my life tracking calories.  But until I learn how to eat again, I need training wheels
• Force myself to drink more water. 
• Start blogging again.  Every day.  Even if I just type nonsense. Whenever I put off doing something, but think about it all the time, it is a sign to myself that I fear that thing.  In most cases, it is a fear of confronting something.  In this case, blogging makes me feel accountable.  If I ignore that I have not lost any weight and don't put it down for anyone--including myself--to read, I can continue to pretend that this whole band thing is a breeze.
• Give myself a fucking break.  It has been three weeks.  I have had three decades to completely warp my eating habits and body image.  CHILL OUT.  This isn't going to happen quickly and I am not going to automatically wake up from surgery and know how and when to eat.  
• Vacuum the cat hair off of the damn treadmill and use it every night.  I have a treadmill at home and membership to TWO gyms with locations all over NY.  I have not worked out in two months.  I can't swim yet, but I can damn well get on the treadmill IN MY OWN HOUSE and walk for 30 minutes.  

See.  I feel better already.  I love a plan.