Before and After Junes

A year ago on June 24, my friend Sandy and I had our official "before" photos taken. She was going to have her RNY in just a couple days and my hope was to follow shortly.

This past week we posed for the camera again. The third person in the photo is our friend Dyan. She ws a reluctant participant last week since she knew she was the only one of us three who was going to look fatter!

The photos really hit home. It's easy to lose sight of how far you've come. But these photos are amazing. I think we look healthier, happier and, of course, hotter.

The cool thing? Someone who saw these photos told me that they don't even remember us looking like we did last June.

Resurrected and Ready to Rumble

I feel like I'm coming back from the dead. Kind of.

It's another busy week in this Sassy Sister's life. Lots of work (review time and loads of deadlines), lots of meetings, lots of training new employees, lots of traveling, lots of new clothes (thanks, mom), lots of carbohydrates, lots of blah, blah, blah.

My mom, who had carpal tunnel surgery last Thursday, and I went and got pedicures Saturday morning. There's no one I'd rather have next to me as someone sloughs dead skin off my heels than my mom. She doesn't gross out over it like friends would. It was my early birthday treat to her. What else do you get for someone that you've been giving gifts to for 38 years?

Saw my sweet nieces this weekend. Jaden pretended she was a dog and peed on my leg. Lorrin and I had a belching contest (I won). Nikkole and I went to see Nacho Libre. The sacrifices we make for the kids we love, huh?

Also saw the grandfolks. Granny's been sick for the past month and it pains me to see her age so suddenly and so severely. By the way, she turns 79 this summer. Next summer we're having a 180th birthday celebration for the three of us. I hope Granny live until then.

Isn't that morbid? I could kick myself for writing that. This year she and Gramps have just really suffered some major health issues and their mortality has never been so obvious. I worry about how my mom and dad will cope with the responsibilities of their ailing health. I know they'll do fine. But that's a shitload of worry to burden. I at least am thankful that I'm healthier so that I can be there for my parents.

Things you should know about post-op me...

Favorite multi-vitamin: Centrum Adult Chewables
Favorite protein powder: Scitec Protein Delite in Pineapple Vanilla
Favorite ready-to-drink protein: EAS Advantage Cafe Caramel
Favorite protein snack: Proto's Ostrim Meat Sticks in teriyaki.
Favorite cheese: Dubliner Cheddar
Favorite fiber : Benefiber and Metamucil cinnamon crackers--tied
Favorite candy-like laxative: Phillips Chocolate Chews
Favorite supplement: Citracal Lemon Chews
Favorite shampoo: Nioxxin
Favorite body lotion: L'Occitane Rich Shea Body Lotion
Favorite television show: MTV's Fat Camp and MTV's True Life "I'm Obese" double feature
Favorite recipe: Kim's Cinnamon Flaxmeal Muffins.

I'm sure I have more favorites. But I'm getting bored.

Hers, Mine & Ours

I just got back from a weekend at home.

I haven't written much lately at all about my separation from my partner. It's been 10 weeks since I moved out and got an apartment on the other side of the city. Ten weeks of two sets of rent/mortgage, utilities, cable, internet, etc. Ten weeks of a futon for me, more room in the closet for her. Ten weeks of me missing my cats, her dealing with piss and puke from the fur balls. Ten weeks of quiet and contemplation, freedom and flexibility.

I guess I haven't wanted to write about our separation because it's not been easy. Yes, it's what I wanted. But it's still not what I had intended to ever happen. I didn't make a promise before my friends and family to care for and love her all my life to just up and leave 18 months later. Of course, I hadn't planned on my surgery so radically changing my world. Although a separation is what I needed, it still embarrassed me. And I still haven't told a lot of people--including my grandparents.

And the other reason I haven't written about it is that I don't need to hear what people think. The fact is, the only thing that people should comment on is my happiness. If I'm happy without her, good. I'm happy with her, good. I want people to want for me what I want for me--and I reserve the right to change my mind whenever I want. Amen. I don't want to listen to people passing judgment on her, presuming they know her like I do, understand her better than I do. If people would cut me slack, they should do the same for her.

I haven't wanted to explain myself. Or feel defensive. Or feel judged.

So I haven't.

But this has been my second weekend back at the house. I'm happy about that. I've enjoyed it and I've enjoyed her. Does it mean I'm moving home? Nope. Not any time soon. Does it mean there's room for the possibility that we may work things out? Yes. Definitely. Should it all go south, then it does. But when it sucks as bad as it did a couple months ago, I doubt it could be any worse.

By no means do I have any of the relationship stuff figured out. She still does things to drive m crazy. And I know I do the same to her. But we're learning to be together again as the new and, hopefully, improved people we are.

That's the scoop.

Cracker Slacker

I picked up two boxes of crackers at the store tonight, put them in my basket and walked around the store for 30 minutes. Then I threw them on an end cap and left. They weren't crackers. More like crack. This girl ain't smokin' none of that sheeyat no more.

The 100th Post

Here it is, my 100th post. That's 4 seasons in TV time. I've lasted longer than "Joey."

Anybody out there that started reading this back in October besides me? I just reread some of those earlier posts. 2 months out-down 55 pounds. I don't think that back then I even could have imagined I'd be 9.5 months out and down 135 pounds. I was excited to be walking into fat girl stores in the mall. Now, I've shrunk out of those clothes and right out of those stores into the normal girl shops.

I was freaking out about food--when I ate, how I ate, what I ate. OK, some things didn't change all that much. At least now I better understand why I eat. When, how and what have become incidental.

I thought about my sloppy clothes, my shrinking boobs, my distorted perception of reality, blah, blah, blah. I suppose you could point the cursor at any month and read the same rant, just a few pounds different in weight.

Although it all sounds eerily the same, I'm a different person. Physically, it's obvious. Here's the first pic I posted of myself on 11/7.














And here's one of me from last week (with my new purple glasses resting on the world's biggest nose)...














Mentally and emotionally, I think I've changed some. I'm more certain of myself. More willing to experience my emotions. More capable of defining myself and defending myself.

My job has changed. My primary relationship has changed. My friendships have morphed, have ended, have been renewed. My responsibilities have expanded and my commitments have shrunk. My sanity has come and gone and has come again.

I have no flippin' clue where I'll be, what I'll be doing, how much I'll weigh for post 200. If anything, I've learned I can't worry about it. I'll get there, God willing. And maybe I'll be better for the wear. If not, I hope I at least have a damn good time along the way.

Ta-Dum!

For the first time ever in my adult life, I am NOT obese. My BMI of 29 (once 51) puts my in the overweight category. I'll take that. Yes indeedy, I will.

Connecting the Dots

I had a breakthrough this week, a shift in perception that has the potential to change my relationship with food.

I was in a restaurant Monday night. Dinner was ordered. The salad came first. I ate a sufficient amount and left enough room for the main course. However, the main course was delayed. When it finally arrived, the food wasn't what I had expected based on the menu description and, for what it was, it wasn't really that good.

I complained to the waiter, then ate what I thought was worth eating just so I could get in my protein. Soon, of course, I was full. But I wasn't satisfied. I was still disappointed about the food. I was unhappy about the delay. I was irritated by the inconvenience of not eating in the time span that I like to eat. My stomach was telling me I was full--but my head was still hungry because it wasn't satisfied.

And that's when I realized that hunger and satisfaction have absolutely NOTHING to do with each other. I can be full and not be satisfied. Conversely, I can be satisfied and still feel hunger. For the first time ever, I actually experienced (or noticed) the disconnect between my head and my body. I recognized that no matter how full I felt, I still wasn't satisfied because the reality of the experience didn't meet my expectations. Even if I kept eating, I still wouldn't be satisfied. In fact, I'd end up feeling even worse because I'd soon enough feel guilty for eating more than necessary.

So I put down the fork and said I was full. Unsatisfied, but full.

The waiter eventually brought a replacement entree. It looked worlds better. Yes, I wasn't hungry. But I felt like I could take a taste--and just one taste--because I understood that I was going to do it for the satisfaction of it and not the hunger. Make sense? So I did take a bite. It was perfectly grilled and absolutely delicious. Then I was satisfied. Not satiated. But satisfied. And that one bite was enough. I didn't have feel like I had to gobble down the whole thing.

It all goes back to being aware of my emotions and understanding the relationship between my emotions and my body. Tuesday night I got home late and wanted to eat. I thought about it and realized I wasn't hungry. I just needed to feel connected. Food would not make a satisfactory connection. It would just make me feel more disconnected from myself because I'd be eating for the wrong reasons.

Yep, that proverbial light bulb went on. It's bright. Grab your shades.

Free Wheelin'

I got a bike yesterday. A Trek Navigator 100. Metallic suede and black. Sure, it's cool. But not as cool as me in my helmet.







(Notice my slim profile and narrow shoulders.)








It's a multi-sport helmet. I can use it for skateboarding and snowboarding, too. Yep, I'm living on the edge.






Ok, here's the skateboard. I picked it out because of the bottom. The top is just black. But when I'm flyin' high overhead, most people will only be able to see the bottom anyway.

Old Mother Hubbard

My cupboards are bare. I went through them last night and tossed out any snack-like food. I saved the corn-flax cakes and the rye crisps. Too boring to pig out on. I even junked a box of sugar-free, wheat-free cookies that actually tasted ok. But they are satan incarnate and I am on a mission to save my soul.

Dangerous liaisons

I hate those people who have WLS and then never think about food again. They lie. How the hell can you NOT think about food when all you get is 8 flippin' ounces a meal? And you've got to think about food if you're going to keep yourself properly nourished.

I won't lie. I think about food all the time. Whatever. It's whether or not I EAT it all that time, right? Or whether or not I EAT the foods that I should. Unfortunately, movie popcorn and neon cocktails aren't on my nutritionist's list of recommended foods for proper daily nutrition. And, unfortunately, they're what I've had for dinner (or in addition to dinner) 3 times this week.

I'm treading in dangerous waters. I have a few excuses I could pull out of my ass to justify my eating. But why bother? We all know what they are. I just wish I'd stop eating. Or at least stop caring about eating.

Three months until my 1-year anniversary. By then, I want 30 more pounds gone and no more binging. I don't know which wish is more unrealistic.

Howdy Stranger

I run across old photos of me and it's like bumping into someone you think you might know...but just aren't certain. She looks familiar, but I can quite place the face.