I am bad at this

I have not blogged in months. I have only lost about 10 lbs in months.  I should feel worse about this than I do.  Dipping my toes back in the blogosphere.  Hopefully it will be the prompt I need to stop eating flan and sitting on my lazy ass.

I gained 2 lbs! Hallelujah!!

I am not even being sarcastic. I am thrilled that I gained 2 lbs.  I was in Jamaica for 6 days and ate at a buffet for 99% of all my meals.  I also drank my face off.  Gaining only 2 lbs is NOT something that I would have done this time last year.  I would have gained at least 10 and I would have been miserable.  But I wasn't miserable.  I was hot.  People, I WORE A BATHING SUIT WITHOUT A COVERUP!!!!!  Not all the time, but I did walk to and from the bathroom once or twice.  I let my cousin take a picture of me in a bathing suit.

I could literally cry right now.  This is the first vacation that I have had ever where I didn't spend the whole time wishing I had dieted before I left.  Wishing that I wasn't the fat friend.  Wishing that I didn't hate myself so much.  This was the first time that I danced shamelessly at the wedding.  That I strutted around like the hottest bitch at the party because you know what? I WAS.  (Well not the hottest, but definitely in the top 10!)  Even if that is not true, that is how I felt.  My sister said to my cousin last night when he picked us up at the airport "You should have seen Nikki.  She was FIRE all weekend.  She even rocked me she looked so good." She has no idea how happy that one offhand comment made me because that is how I felt.  I am so happy that for once, my outsides matched my insides.  I was confident and felt great and it showed. I have a few NSVs and then I will let you guys be the judges of how confidently happy I looked at the wedding.

• I walked around in a bathing suit (with and without a coverup) and didn't want to kill myself
• I may or may not have made out with the cute bartender at the pool bar (That is not an NSV, but just a sweet side effect of feeling so confident.)
• I didn't sweat profusely even when it was hot.  Getting ready for the wedding, everyone was complaining about how hot it was and I didn't even break into a light dew.  I used to be the biggest sweater in any room, but I only got a little moist while dancing.  This, my fellow formerly morbidly obese sweaty friends, you know is huge.
• One of the guys from the day of "THE PICTURE" was there. (You know the picture.  See below in the black dress.)  He has not seen me since that day.  He said "I don't remember you looking this sexy that day you were sitting on the cooler at the picnic."  He also commented on how slowly I eat.  He said "It's cute and all, but sometimes I get aggravated and want to tell you to hurry the hell up so we can leave the restaurant."  I just laughed and continued eating at a snail's pace like a good bandster.
• My dress was not plus sized! Ladies, there are so many more options for formal wear once you get out of the plus sizes.  Who knew.  For once I didn't have to wear something matronly.  It's like all stores think that if you are overweight you are automatically the mother of the groom.  

I am really truly happy with myself right now.  I still have a ways to go, but I am enjoying the trip so much I am not even concerned about when I'll get there.

Without further ado, the evidence.

Please recall the tragic days at the end of last summer:

Now indulge me while I post waaaaaay too many pics of myself, but it is my blog and I am allowed to be a little vain.

The Perfect Storm

I had my first PB today. I was in a bowling alley in Pittsburgh pre-game for SuperBowling. All I ate was one piece of broccoli and a tiny bite of fish. Why would this cause me to get sick? Perhaps because I have been tight as a drum all weekend. I think I have hit upon every band tightening cause out there. Let's check:

5 days post fill
Period came this morning
Fighting a cold
Flew Thursday and today
Job interview tomorrow (stress)

Did I miss anything? I am so annoyed because band life has been a breeze for me. Now because I've been so pathetic and tight all weekend, my family I was visiting probably think I'm insane for doing this. Ugh. I just want to be able to eat something. Anything.

Total downer these last couple of posts. To end on a light note, I am dancing around being 70 lbs down. I'll be sure to celebrate with a small sip of water and maybe a Tic Tac. Do they make those in protein flavor?

Too Tight?

I had my fourth fill yesterday and I think it was too much. I am still on liquids. Last night I had soup and had no problems. Right now I am struggling drinking water. I'm getting the left shoulder pain. So frustrated!! I'm getting a cold and I am also stressed out. That might be part of the issue. Crap. I'm also flying tomorrow. Great. A mini vacation where I can't eat or drink. Any Pittsburgh bandsters out there want to be on call to recommend an emergency unfill doctor.

Validation by . . . stripper?

Let me introduce you to my new best friend.  His name is M-essi-ah.  I added though dashes because I get the feeling that he is the kinda guy who googles himself obsessively.  Here is a visual to get the story going:

There I was at the bachelorette party.  I was the designated driver because the shower was for my sister's best friend, so I figured she deserved to get as silly as she wanted to.  So keep in mind that I am stone sober for all of this.  Everything was good until the entertainment arrived.  Now, I am not a prude.  I like to think of myself as fairly laid back and open minded.  That is until last night when I went to my first "stripper at a private party" party. 

I was SHOCKED!!!!  I blushed.  I had to leave the room for bits of time.  And then my sister--well into the vodka by this time--points to me and sends our guy my way.  I was terrified and horrified all at once.  You see, he kept picking the women up.  As a forever fatty, having a guy try to pick me up fills me with fear.  I used to hang out with a guy that was always picked up his friends.  (I was young. Don't ask.) Anytime he tried to pick me up, I dropped to the ground like a sack of flour.  It was the only way I knew to make him stop.  Humiliating.  We are no longer friends.

Anyway, there I was in the middle of the floor swaying with terror when I said to Messy, "I am too heavy.  Please don't pick me up.  You'll drop me on my head and I will be paralyzed."  I swear to you that is exactly the ridiculous thing I said to the stripper.  He says, "Relax."  As if.  Then he lifted me up and ordered me to put my legs around his waist.  I was so scared that I did.  He released one hand and started dancing and said "Look. One hand."  I was dumbfounded.

After the show, as he handed me a card in case I want to book him for another party, he said, "I told you you weren't heavy."  Say what????  YES I AM.  I told him that I have lost a lot of weight recently so I guess I haven't processed it yet.  I HAVE NO FILTER.  The stripper does not care about my weight loss for chrissakes.  He just wanted a tip!!!  But he responded, "well get used to guys being able to pick you up and toss you around now."  I tipped him. 

Not because I want to be "tossed around" (well kinda), but because without even knowing it, he gave me such a great NSV.  A man--albeit a very muscley one--picked me up and didn't break his back or grunt with the effort.  Thanks, Messy.  I owe you one. 

The other highlight of the night was the bartender.  He is a personal trainer who was doing a favor for a friend.  We talked all night.  I am hoping that he asks our mutual friend for my number.  Ladies, please please pray because, well . . . look at him:

And for good measure here is a picture of me and my sister.  The bridesmaids all wore bustiers.  She does not normally dress like a French hooker, but she looked damn good.

wish my arm wasn't so fat, but look at that tiny curve at the waist!!!

Conrad

I just looked up the meaning of the name Conrad and it says "Bold; wise counselor."  I was shocked to find that it didn't mean "of Satan; the Devil's minion."  Conrad is my new trainer.  We had our first session today.  I am typing this with my arms glued to my sides because if I lift them, I cry.

Here's the thing though: I have been doing strength training on my own every other day for almost two months.  I have NEVER been this sore.  I feel like I have been wasting time.  I know that's not true because any calorie burned counts, but, damn, I wish I had shelled out for a Conrad sooner. I am about 4-5 good workouts away from fitting comfortably in the bathing suits of my dreams for Jamaica.  Remember these sexy little things?

I have also started doing the Couch to 5K training program and signed up for a 5K on March 6.  I hope to run the whole thing.  It may take me 90 minutes, but I'm doing it!!!

On the weight loss front, I think I am starting to see a pattern.  I tend to lose big (3-4 lb/week) for two weeks of the month and then I piddle around at .8-1 for the other two (if I don't gain .6).  I am not going to obsess about how to make it consistent (read: I am going to think about nothing else for weeks).  The point is that it is coming off. 

When they said you lose between 1-2lbs a week with the lap band I, of course, thought, "Oh hell no!  I am going to lose 4 every week and get to my goal in no time."  I have a little problem with patience.  I suppose if I really put my mind to it and tracked every single calorie and never gave into the cravings for cake and never had wine with friends, I could do that.  But, I learned something pretty important over the last 4 months.  Having a life is fun and oh so necessary.  The self-imposed exile of obesity is no way to live just as the anal, obsessive, food nazi is no way to live either.  So we come to my word of 2011.  I have gone back and forth between patience and moderation.  But, I think that patience is really what I need to focus on.

 /ˈpeɪʃəns/ Show Spelled[pey-shuhns] 

–noun

2.

an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay: to have patience with a slow learner.

3.

quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.”--Tolstoy

I'm Lovin It!

Last night was an impromptu picture night.  Rebecca and I met for dinner and then hauled our cookies--literally--up to Meghan's for wine, The Bachelor, and pictures!  I am very tempted to post the violin video, but I won't.  I love my friends.  Rebecca said the nicest thing to me last night.  She said that I looked like a girl--not a heavy girl--just a girl. I still have so much to lose, but compliments like that really spur me on.  They also both told me that I looked like a fool in the pants that I was wearing, so I will very shortly have some stuff for the Sisterhood. 

So here they are. Month 4 of the most unflattering outfit.  (Click on them to make them bigger.) The shorts no longer look like spandex and I can actually stand with my legs together.  Things are coming along nicely!