Saying goodbye to a pet

Jerry and his favorite manatee toy in 2003

Our pets are part of our family. They are our babies. Our fur babies. Almost all pets live just portions of our lives. But often those years are important ones.

Jerry and his favorite manatee toy

They are the years we met loved ones and got married. They are the years our human children were born. They help us through our empty nest period. The years our children are born might be the hardest. We mark the lives of our fur babies with our human babies. And vice versa.

Today I have to say goodbye to Jerry. 

Jerry has been through so much with me. He was there when I brought my oldest child home from the hospital.

Jerry was there when my best friend, Karen, committed suicide. 

Jerry was there when my second came home from the hospital. 

He was there when we bought our first home - a condo. He was there when we bought our first house. He was there when we had to say goodbye to the kitties we took when Karen died. He was there when Olaf and Lillian joined us. And now he won’t be here for anything else.

He won’t be here when Zachary graduates 8th grade in a couple months.

Zachary

He won’t be here when Allie graduates high school next year.

Allie

This pet who was here for almost every important event will no longer be here.

I can wrap my head around needing to put him to sleep. That is my responsibility as a pet owner.  I can’t wrap my head around the finality of that.

Who will immediately jump into my lap before I've even had a chance to situate myself on the couch?

Who will beg for food at the table and nearly bite my entire finger off?

Who will yowl in the middle of the night just because?

Who will eat my hair when I'm lying on the floor?

I know Lillian and Olaf, plus any future kitties, will help fill Jerry's void, but it won't happen quickly and it still won't be complete.

It's like losing a best friend

Tomorrow we will lose our best friends. And we will gain a playground bully.

The sense of loss I'm feeling is overwhelming. I don't like feeling intense feelings. I tend to shove them down (super healthy, I know). But these feelings of loss and grief keep bubbling up. They have been since November. Never before have I felt the need to break down and cry so often.

Obama and his beautiful family will go on to live their lives (in California!!) and no doubt continue to leave their positive mark on the world. But by leaving office, part of them is dying. Part of me is dying.

That family is pure class.  That family is who I want to represent my country to the world.

Now my country will be represented by a two year old with a Twitter account.

So along with the feelings of loss and grief, I'm so incredibly embarrassed. And ashamed.

Where do we go from here? Psychologists will tell you to acknowledge your feelings so you can move on. But I'm not sure I want to move on. I need to figure out how to use these feelings and fight.

I will not go gentle into that good night.

This isn't just a change in presidency

This isn't just a change in presidency. That happens every 4-8 years. We're used to that. Someone from "the other side" is elected and we say "gosh darn it, my choice didn't win". And we move on. Sure, we grumble. We post memes (well, maybe we didn't I've only been of FB for 8-9 years). We say "when my choice was in office we did/didn't have XYZ".

But now. This is so different. This goes way beyond "gosh darn it". This is a change that will affect millions of Americans. This is a change that will ruin lives. Except for the super rich. They're fine.

I'm going to be totally honest with you: this probably won't affect me that much. We're financially comfortable. If we both lost our jobs tomorrow we'd survive for months. If one of us died we'd be fine with our life insurance. We're white. We're upper middle class. We're beyond child rearing age (well, not really, but it's just not happening). We have family around us that can support us if we really really need it.

So I'm not so scared for *me*. I'm scared for all my friends. I'm scared for my single parenting friends. I'm scared for my disabled friends. I'm scared for my friends who might sorta kinda look like they might sorta kinda be the type who might sorta kinda have a bomb to kill us all. Whatever that looks like. Yeah yeah, let's just wait and see. I'm *sure* it won't be that bad.

What I'm dealing with the most right now, though, is the depression. Losing Obama is like a loved one dying. We'll never see him again. He's going to be gone forever. I can wrap my head around that over time, but what is replacing him I just can't.

Obama has class. Obama speaks to the people. He is one of us. Trump? He has no idea how to speak to those who aren't as privileged as him. He is the salt in the wound of losing Obama. Not only are we losing a beloved member of our family, we're gaining someone who will ruin us. It's almost too much to handle.

The loss of Obama, the loss of Clinton, the gain of Trump. I can handle one of those at a time. But all of them? I just can't.

I struggle to bring myself out of this depression. Then Trump appoints someone to a position who has spoken out against the position they're supposed to be supporting. Another slap.

This isn't just a change in presidency. This is a change to everything we are. We are more divided ever than before. And right now we need to stand strong together. I hope we all see that before it's too late.

I don't want Hillary, so I'm voting for... Trump??

Let's take a look at the people voting for Trump just because they don't want Hillary. Really? REALLY??

Elections over the years have always been either Democratic or Republican. There's no in between. As much as we'd like to think there are "other" parties out there, there aren't. It's a two party system. Period.

Trump doesn't know SHIT about how to govern a nation. He can't even run his own fucking businesses. Hillary, at the VERY LEAST has first hand knowledge on how to do it.

Every 4 years every single one of us is put into the position of choosing who best fits our ideology. And every four years roughly 50% of us says to ourselves "Damn it! Four years of this person's shit".

This is so different. This is not just four years of "gosh darn it, I don't like what he/she said". This is four years of tyranny. Has no one seen the similarities between Trump and Hitler? Because they're there. Go Google that shit.

I'm a middle to upper class citizen. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area and can afford a 3 bedroom 2 bathroom house ON THE PENINSULA. If Trump is actually elected, I'll probably not be affected too much. I'm done having babies, so he'll stay out of my uterus. I miss all the tax brackets he's targeting. I don't have any disabilities (knock on wood) that might make it hard or impossible for me to work. I'll survive this. I'll survive it with anti-Trump memes and angry Facebook updates.

But myfuckinggod, I know so many who may not. I know way too many who will have to pay for the policies he would like to inflect upon our nation.

I get it. Hillary, in your opinion, can't make a good president. She should be sent to prison (what politician should be?). I have my doubts, too. I was (am) a stern Sanders supporter. He was my dream come true. But fine, he didn't get the nomination, so I'm moving on. And I get it. Trump talks to (at) us like we're the neighborly neighbor. He says things in ways many of us have said things to our friends. He says things the way we might say things sitting around the local bar, chatting each other up. But if you actually listen, he's not saying what YOU would say. It's a cliche, but "think of the children" is an important phrase here. Think. Of. The. Children. What kind of country are you leaving your/our/my children to? A nation of love and acceptance or a nation of hate and denial of rights? Your rights could be next.

#Imwithher. And I'm not with her solely based on her philosophy. I'm with her because she is what is going to KEEP this country great.

Empathy

I sometimes wonder if I lack empathy. Someone’s grandma dies and they’re devastated but I’m all “she was 90, get over it”.  So my empathy meter often runs low. But I don’t have zero empathy. And sometimes something comes across the interwebz that really makes me realize that I do have empathy. And many of you don’t. And that makes me sad.

We all know the Cincinnati gorilla story. We’ve all taken sides. Most (and I include myself) are quick to point out the faults on each side. The enclosure obviously wasn’t safe enough. The mother obviously wasn’t watching her child.

I’m so fucking done pointing fingers. I don’t care WHO was at fault – if anyone.  Here are the facts: a boy fell into the enclosure and a gorilla had his hands on him.  There are no other facts you need to know. A child needed to be saved from a “wild” animal. There were no other options.

The mother, who may or may not have been keeping a good enough eye on her boy, had to watch this all unfold. She had to stand helpless on the edge of the enclosure and offer up words to her god or her universe that her boy not be hurt.

Have you ever experienced that helpless feeling? And I’m not just talking about watching your child go across the monkey bars and fall each and every time. I’m not talking about having to watch your awkward teenager navigate society. I’m talking about literally not being able to do anything to help your child. I’ve not been in that situation. And I thank my lucky stars I haven't.

I have the empathy to understand what this might feel like. And I have the ability to know that I will NEVER know what this feels like until I experience it. And I hope, and I pray and I send out my positive vibes to the universe that I will never, EVER have to.

So, please. Dig down. Find that empathy for that mother. Put away your pointed finger. Think how lucky she and that boy are to be safe. Send your virtual hugs her way. She knows this story far better than you do. If there is a lesson to be learned, it's been learned. Now is the time to heal.

Out of my element

A couple girlfriends and I went out on the town last weekend. San Francisco, North Beach (for those in the know). I'm pretty much a homebody and a suburb girl. I am not comfortable in The Big City. There's so much... everything.  Lights, bustle, people. And I have a fear of public transit.  Goes back to an incident when I was 10 and jumped on the London Underground, thinking my parents were right behind me. They weren't and the doors closed and off I went.  Obviously I survived and was reunited, but scared shitless nonetheless.

Anyway, I wanted to spend time with my friends, so off to The City I went. My friends know and love city and are in their element. I was not, but they had my back. I wouldn't be abandoned.  Our goal was to have tons of fun, fun we wouldn't normally have. So off to the strip clubs we went.

It was early (for a Friday night in SF). The first club (The Condor) was quiet and the girls happily chatted with us while they danced on stage. It was fun. I loved their outfits, I loved their aerobics. And I was in a *whispers* STRIP CLUB. Giggle. I gave one of the girls a couple dollars, admitting this was my "first time". She was so sweet, told me exactly where to put the money and said "slap my butt, your friends will love it". See? Super fun, just my level of break out naughty.

This club was pretty tame (who knew?) so we tried a couple other places. Some wanted to charge a cover, which we weren't going to pay. We found another club and sat ourselves down. This is where my fun, happy and "giggle, I'm in a strip club" feelings ended.

I appreciate the female form, but I found I was much more interested in watching the girls' faces. And seeing their faces killed me. There was no emotion. None. Like they were dead inside. And I bet some of them were. It made me so sad. I leaned over to one of my friends and said "I really kind of hate this". Being the amazing friend that she is, she immediately said "Ok, let's go", and we were out of there.

My friend explained to me that these women really do make a good amount of money, and there are so many rules in place about touching and appropriate behavior from the guests (clients? patrons?), but I just couldn't get rid of the image of their emotionless faces. I still can't.

Most of these women strip because they have to. Maybe they don't have the education for a better job. Or because the Bay Area is so damn expensive they need this second job to pay the bills. Or life just put them there because life can do that. I doubt this happens to male strippers. But what do I know. My male stripper knowledge comes from Magic Mike.

My Weight Loss Journey: The Next Next Steps

The next next steps.  I've had a lot of steps over the last couple years.  Weight loss surgery. Losing 100+lbs.  Getting new boobs.  I'm now a week away (A WEEK!!) from another big step: lower body lift. When a large amount of weight is lost, all the excess skin heads south.  The boobs sag, the arms have bat wings, the thighs wrinkle and the abdominal skin sags and sits right over the pubis. Lovely.

In a week I'm going to have that skin removed.  I still struggle with a lot of body issues (like the aforementioned arms and thighs), but this is a biggie. Imagine your body from your head to your chest looking pretty much exactly how you'd like it to look.  Yeah, you're probably showing more age than you hoped you would, but for the most part you're pretty OK with how you look (and this is a major milestone for how you used to feel about yourself). But that belly. Some shirts and skirts are great at hiding that excess skin, but you still see it every.single.day.

In a week it will be gone.  It's kind of blowing my mind right now. I have NEVER seen my lower body look "skinny" (whatever that means). I still don't see the rest of my body look skinny.  Just today I had a conversation with my boss where she said she's never known me not "skinny". Skinny? I just can't wrap my head around that word.

Every woman looks different. And none of us should be judging a woman for how she looks on the outside. And I should be happy with how I look right now. But I'm not. I have the ability (meaning money) right now to make it happen. So why the fuck not? I've always wanted to look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw. I never was, but I am getting there.

I plan on buying a bikini top. And I plan on piercing my belly button. 40 is the new 30, right? Maybe even the new 20.

Skinny

**edit: I sat on this post for a long time. I needed to get it out there. Even if it's unfinished.**

Skinny. Slender. Thin. Healthy (I hate that one). I've heard all these terms in the last several months. "Look how [insert the above words] you are!" Yes, there is a large part of me that is super excited to hear those words.  But there's also a part of me that wants to shout "FUCK YOU!! I'm the same person inside!"

At 274 pounds I was funny. I said things that made people gasp or laugh or look away uncomfortably.  At 160 I say the same damn stuff.  Yes, I have more self confidence now.  I can hold that eye contact with that cute guy in Starbucks that I never could have before.  But if that cute guy got to know any of the mes over the last couple years, he'd be getting to know the same person.

So I'm struggling with this label of skinny, and all the synonyms that go with it. Is that what I am now? Just some skinny bitch? Because there's a lot more here.  There always has been.

I've come back to this post because I'll be getting a lower body lift (super-duper intrusive tummy tuck) in a week.  I'm mostly excited about it, but a little scared.  OK, a lot scared. But the part that's bugging me the most is how many people will now "see" me. And why the fuck couldn't they see me before?

Bewbs

So here we are, a month and change out from my breast lift and augmentation. That wasn't want I expected.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't regret for a second having the procedure done. I'm happy with the outcome. I'm still healing, so I'm sure I'll be even more happier as more time goes by.  What I didn't expect was the healing time. Notice how in that line above I said "I'm still healing...." I still have discomfort and weird feelings.

Keep in mind (as I try to remind myself) that my only other experience with surgery was laparoscopic when I had my weight loss surgery. That was 5 itty-bitty cuts and some gas pain.  This was 6 great big giant cuts and a lot of pain, for a lot longer time.

Those who aren't squeamish, or those who don't have a problem seeing the boobs of someone they know, can click on the link below. This is what my breasts looked like the day of surgery.  I called them Frankentits:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/853mx8aumphoqtd/Day%20after.JPG?dl=0

Here's some fun (G-rated) comparison pictures:
Before:

After:

Notice they're not huge.  That was the point. I just wanted what I had refilled. I ended puberty with a B. I wasn't thrilled. After pregnancy and during nursing I was a D. I was thrilled.  Imagine now, those D boobs deflating to As.... I was definitely not thrilled.

The discomfort comes from the multiple suture lines as well as having a foreign body under the muscle that likes to move around some.  It's a feeling I'm still getting used to.  Reaching up for something high on the shelf feels totally different now. I can sort of feel the implant moving around under there.

This June I will be doing a lower body lift. That will involve a much larger portion of my body and, I assume, a much longer recovery time. Knowing what I know now, I'm ready for it. I'm ready to not be able to jump right up and get on with life.  I'm ready to give up running for a large period of time (which I wasn't ready for this go-round).  I'm ready because, goddamnit, I worked hard for this and deserve to have the body I've always wanted.

My Weight Loss Journey: The Next Steps

This last October marked my 2 year "surgiversary". It's been two years since I had the gastric sleeve weight loss procedure.  I've lost 115 lbs. I feel great! I look pretty great, if I do say so myself. At least with clothes on.  With clothes off I'm a little unhappy with where my journey has led me.  Don't get me wrong.  I'd do it all over again in a heart beat, but there are parts of my body that I am very unhappy with.

I have very saggy boobs, and that bothers me.  There. I said it. Body image is a bitch. I shouldn't care what I look like, it's what's inside me that matters, blah, blah, blah. But I *do* care what I look like from the outside.  And I've worked pretty damn hard to get to where I am now. So I want the body to reflect that.

I also have a very saggy belly (it's called a pannus, if you want to be all official about it). Sure, the right underwear hides it, sort of, but I see it. I have to lift up that saggy belly and apply coconut oil to fend off rashes and bacterial infections.  I want that bitch gone.

Then there's my arms. They're like bat wings. I raise my hand to say hello or goodbye and my arms flap away.

So I'm starting the next step(s) in my journey. Plastic surgery.  It's one of those issues that people tend to have very strong opinions on one way or another. My opinion is I worked hard to get to where I am now, why the hell shouldn't I be able to have the body I've always wanted?

December 19th I'm going under the knife.  Being a teacher affords me random breaks through out the year. Winter break is coming up. So, I'm getting the boobs done. I will have boobs that will stand up with out the help of padding and fancy Victoria Secret bras. I used to have these boobs. Now I will have them again!

In June or July I will have a lower body lift done to take care of the saggy belly. It might also combat some of the wrinkly thighs that I'm not so concerned about.

Want to hear something funny? I'm more scared that I'll come out with some Dolly Parton boobs than complications from the surgery itself.  I'm not scared to go under the knife. I have respect and feel secure in the doctor I've chosen.  But I'm scared everyone will notice my new look and judge and laugh at me for it.  Low self esteem is a bitch.

This is the post to get this out there. I've not told too many people for fear of the "you look fine" reaction. But this is my choice, and I could really use your support. I will follow this post up with before and after pictures.

So here we go! 8 days and counting until my next significant step!

Take that, cancer, you asshole.

Friday, March 21st, is Ice Cream for Breakfast Day. What's Ice Cream for Breakfast Day, you ask? Let me tell you.  A friend of mine, whom I've never met, died of Melanoma. It was crazy fast. But he wasn't going to let it stop him from enjoying life to the fullest.  He was diagnosed four years ago, on March 21st (can it be four years already?).  During his battle he decided he would create this Ice Cream for Breakfast Day to teach us all to enjoy life.  Life is precious, life is short.  Sometimes you should just eat ice cream for breakfast.  The first ICFBD was set for the one year anniversary of his diagnoses.  He died nine days before that.  Now, as his family has picked up their pieces and moved on, we still remember him and his spirit on our Third Ice Cream for Breakfast Day. Bruce, I never knew you. But I think of you often. And I think of the mark you've left on this world.  So, everyone out there, whether you knew Bruce or not, celebrate LIFE and how precious it is.  Have some ice cream for breakfast with us. (You might want to practice through out the year, as well.)

Breaking up with Facebook

I recently decided to take a Facebook break.  All of a sudden I felt overwhelmed by all the negative posts, the "my life sucks because of this" posts.  As you may know, I've been exercising a lot lately and it's finally making changes to my mental health.  I feel good about things.  Life isn't just "meh", it's good.  I'm able to see the negative in my life and am working on changing it - either by changing my views on it or changing what is causing the negativity.

I toyed with the idea of leaving Facebook for a couple days.  I didn't think I could do it.  When I finally made the decision it felt good.  It was like a burden was lifted off of me.  However, I'm finding that that unburdened feeling is seeping away and other feelings are coming up, like loneliness. And minor panic (I might be missing something important!) And this was all on the first day.  I've lost an entire group of friends all at once. I sometimes wonder if they're talking about me.  Then I fear they're not.

I've made a lot of friends over the years through online groups like The Babywearer.com, iVillage message boards and my local Mothers Club. Not to mention the several friends I've made in the more intimate private Facebook groups.  Most of these people I only connect with over Facebook. Although I haven't deactivated my account and I can still be reached through messages, I still feel completely disconnected from them now.

Back in 2006 a very good friend of mine died.  For months afterwards I would think "Oh, I need to tell Karen XYZ" and then realize I couldn't.  Leaving Facebook is similar.  While I certainly can log back in and tell my Facebook friends XYZ, it completely defeats the point of leaving in the first place. My point is there's a sense of sadness and loss when I chose not to log back in.

A couple times I've had to log back in to check the dates of an event or post in the Virtual Running group and I'm almost afraid to even look at the news feed.  I get a little anxiety over seeing one of those posts that pushed me over the edge.  But I'm even more anxious over seeing a post that will suck me back in.  Breaking up with Facebook is hard.  It would be so easy to go back, fall back into the routine.  But I know over time it will get easier.

(Part of me doesn't even want to share this blog because if I cave and come back to Facebook again, then I'm afraid you'll all think I'm a hypocrite.)

I am a runner.

Six months ago I would have said, "if you see me running, you better run, too!"  And, if you had said "you should try running", I would have laughed and laughed at you.  Me? Running?? Hahahahaha!

But secretly, I wanted to be a runner.  I daydreamed about running along the waterfront like I see so many other people do.  I noticed all the cute running attire.  I saw posts my friends made about how far they ran or what race they completed.  But I was far too self conscious.  What if someone I know saw me?  I resigned myself knowing I was a walker and walking was just fine.  Walking was great exercise, too.

One day I tried it.  Just for fun.  When no one else was around.  While heading downhill.  It was kind of fun.  Exhilarating.  At that moment I decided I needed to stop caring who saw me running.  Who cared if they laughed all the way to work and told all their coworkers about that crazy lady they saw running.

So, I started the Couch to 5 K program.  I cannot speak highly enough of this program.  You can literally be someone who has never run before and this program will turn you into a runner. I went from knowing I could never run to running over 3 miles several times a week.  I feel good, too.  I have so much more energy that just walking didn't give me.

And now I'm in the club.  I'm one of "them".  I understand memes like this:

I nod my head at passing runners because we're both in the same club.  I love that stuff.

So any of you who ever thought you might like to run, but just *know* you can't: try it! You CAN! If I can, you can.  So get out there and get moving!

Cross Addiction

There's a phenomenon called "addiction transference" or "cross addiction".  In short, this is when one addiction is replaced by another. For example, a smoker may quit smoking by chewing gum. Now that person feels the need to chew gum all the time.

Those who struggle with weight are addicted to food in one way or another.  We didn't get to this point by not loving food.  After surgery we can't eat like we used to.  Even if we give in and eat that piece of gooey chocolate cake, we still can only have a couple bites.  That often doesn't satisfy what we're looking for in that cake.  It's not just the taste we're after.

When we can no longer turn to food for our emotional needs, we turn other things.  Some turn to exercise.  Others shopping. Others yet, sex.  Anything can become an addiction.  Some of these addictions are worse than others, but they can all have a negative effect on our lives.

I used to be a smoker.  I quit when I got pregnant with my daughter.  She'll be 10 in July, so last October I have been nicotine-free for 10 years.  I quit for her.  I tried quitting before, but was never successful because I liked it.  But with that life growing inside of me I was able to do it.  I never looked back.  I never once felt the need for a cigarette.

That's changing though.  Lately I've been feeling the urge.  It's not strong, but it's there.  I won't give in.  I know through past experience that if I have one cigarette I'll be back to 1/2 a pack a day in a heartbeat.

I'm using this knowledge to be more aware of how my brain is doing.  I know exactly what my body is doing.  I can see it in the mirror and on the scale every day.  But the brain is a different matter.  Sometimes I'm sad when I can't eat a lot of a yummy food.  Or I get frustrated when I want some chips or cookies and there's none in the house. I struggle finding a replacement behavior.  And I have a feeling that struggle will continue for as long as I'm on this journey.

If any of you have dealt with cross addiction and found ways of dealing with it, I'd love to hear about it.

Not for the faint of heart

Everything is on YouTube these days, so it's no surprise that the type of surgery I received (Laparoscopic Sleeve Gastrectomy) is viewable there.  I never went looking for one before surgery (because it didn't occur to me to do so) and after surgery I wasn't sure I really wanted to see it.  Today I ran across a post from a fellow Sleeve friend.  She posted this video and I watched.  It's really amazing.  And a little disgusting.  So, if you have a weak stomach, I don't suggest you watch this:

I find it quite amazing to watch.  To think they can do all this through a few small holes in an abdomen.  To think they did this (or at least something very similar) to MY stomach is a bit surreal.

When horrible things happen

In September a man abducted a child from my kids' school.  She got away and wasn't hurt.  He was eventually caught.  But when something that will "never happen to you" happens to you, your perspective changes.  Now every unfamiliar face is a potential suspect.

Today in Connecticut a man killed elementary aged children and adults.  Before the abduction at my children's school these events would, of course, upset me, but there was also a sense of being removed from the situation.  However, after the abduction these events hit closer to home.

I am having a hard time compartmentalizing these events.  I see the terrified looks on the children's faces and can picture my own children's faces with the same look.  I'm trying to detach myself, but can't.  Then I wonder if I really should.  I should be upset by this. I should be sitting here at my desk crying.  Something like this should not be shrugged off. We shouldn't just thank our powers that be that it wasn't our children.  But I don't know what else to do.

It's overwhelming, these emotions.  I don't want to feel them, but I do.

And the scale keeps marching down!

This is amazing.  I'm losing weight almost daily.  I step on the scale 3-4 times a week and each time I'm down by a pound or more.  Today I hit the 50 pound lost mark.  This is in only 3 months, since starting the program in August.

If anyone out there is thinking of weight loss surgery I urge you to check it out.  It's not for everyone, but knowledge is power.  The more you know about your options the more likely you are to be successful in your weight loss.

Yes, my start to on this journey was somewhat rocky.  I never regretted having the surgery done, but I sure didn't enjoy a couple of the paths I went down.  I still mourn the loss of food. I still wish I could eat a huge juicy hamburger with cheese and bacon and fries.  But I am extremely glad I can't.

This is what's so great about this surgery.  If I slip up and give in to that juicy hamburger I can only eat about 4 bites.  It is physically impossible to eat much more than that.  On diets if you slip up you'll end up eating the whole burger and feeling guilty.  I don't have to feel guilty over 4 bites.

But please don't assume I'm eating 4 bites of hamburger every day.  That's not healthy and I'm not only training myself to eat less, but to eat healthy as well.  I need to establish healthy eating habits now, for if I don't I'll start to gain weight back after I hit my goal.

I know I'm not done with the bumps in my journey.  In fact, there will be much more after I hit my goal weight and need to maintain.  But I am so happy with the choice I made.  I'm glad I took this step in getting myself healthy. I did it for myself and my kids.

Grieving The Loss of Food

Not eating real food is depressing. My family is eating and I sit here with my stupid broth. Again. I just want one bite of the hamburgers they’re having tonight. One bite of the egg sandwich they had this morning.

I know I’ll be able to in a while. But knowing that doesn’t really help me right now. I find myself on the verge of tears sometimes.  I’m grieving the loss of food. At times it makes me want to find a time machine and turn back time and not have the surgery.  If I was actually faced with that choices, chances are I wouldn’t take it.  But right NOW I might.

I knew the journey would have it’s up hills and down hills. I just had no idea how they would affect me. 

I look back on my last post about being in pain.  I’m not anymore.  I still get weird twinges when I eat and drink, but nothing like before.  So, of course, I’ll someday look back on this post and realize I was soon able to eat real food again.  It’s just hard to get out of the here and now.

This Too Shall Pass

This is some serious pain.  When you hurt a leg or an arm it really hurts, but there’s a difference to pain inside your body.  That’s where all the important stuff is.  If you hurt your arm or leg bad enough it can be cut off and you can still go on to live a productive life.  Something goes that wrong inside you and there’s nothing you can do.  Am I saying there’s something that wrong with me? No. But it’s a lot scarier than limb pain.

I know this too shall pass.  I know it gets better. I know my friends in my support groups all say with in a few days they were ready to get right back to doing what they did before.  But the other part of my brain can’t wrap it’s head around that.  It can’t get past the pain.  It can’t see that tomorrow, the next day or even later today I’ll feel better.  It’s stuck here and I don’t like it.

I’m posting this because the logical part of my brain knows I’ll look back and read this later and laugh at myself for being so dramatic.  But I also don’t want to forget what this feels like so when someone else goes through this I can honestly say I know exactly how they’re feeling.

The inner bitch needs to be slapped

Tomorrow is the day. I’m to report to the hospital at 9:30. Probably means my actual surgery will be closer to noon.  I’m trying very hard not to think about it because when I do I freak out a bit. 

I have this inner voice that can’t possibly believe I can ever be thin.  She likes to remind me about all my failed attempts to lose weight in the past. She likes to tell me to not get my hopes up because I might lose weight, but before I know it I’ll gain back all the weight and then some, just like before.

That bitch needs to shut her fucking mouth. Because you know what? I WILL be successful this time! I am being given a tool that will make this attempt successful. Unlike other diets where I’ll eat good for a couple days, then fall off the wagon and say “screw it! I just can’t do this”, I will not be able to not eat well.  I will be physically incapable of gorging myself.  There is no way to NOT lose weight.  And once I get to my goal weight I will have been trained to eat well. There’s no going back. The fat me will not exist anymore.

So, where ever you are tomorrow around noon pacific, send a little thought out for me. And a little bitch slap to that inner voice.