The resticted fat-girl.

"The fat girl inside of me really wants to go. I owe her this. I never let her eat." - Monica, "Friends".

Lap-band.

My best friend and my worst enemy.

I heard a lot of people say that weight-loss surgery was the 'easy way out'. They, obviously, never had it. Lap-band is actually harder than being able to tell Ashley Judd's movies apart.

(Even though I hate the word "fat" I am going to use it in the most relaxing term I can.)

My fat-girl misses food.

Plain & simple.

Even after a year. Your mind & body aren't in sync.

Just because something is healthy doesn't mean you can automatically eat it with lap-band. And even if you can, it's only a small portion.

That's basically all lap-band is: the extreme form of portion control. Instead of depending on yourself, your body is doing it for you.

A few of the things I cannot eat now are:
Bread.
Rice.
Noodles.
Orange Juice.
Crackers.
Cabbage.
Egg-rolls.
Thick potato fries.
Any Fruit.
Burritos.
Tomatoes.
Any drink that has carbonation.
Any greasy food.
Any dried out food.

I can have some of these in small quantities (tomatoes, if drained and sliced thin etc). But, for the most part - these are items that will make me sick. Especially bread. God, I never thought I'd miss biting into a hamburger so much in my life.

Just because your body says no...your mind still wants it. You're still a "fat-girl" at heart. She doesn't leave.

You measure.

You study.

You stand at the counter, looking up at the menu - thinking of what you can have that won't make you sick. You let people cut. The guy behind the register looks at you like your deformed. You apologize to the waitress, who thinks you don't like their food - when really you have over-ate and keep having to get up to vomit. You watch your friends eat and miss it. Miss the taste. You vomit out of your best friend's car door on the side of the road. You survive on nothing but egg-drop soup for a few days.

This post will probably make it look like I'm not happy with my band. But 90% of the time, I am. I am satisfied with the results, I am healthier. I can walk up stairs without thinking I will die. You can't beat a size 16. My blood pressure has calmed. And, although I feel weak a lot, feel better.

But, my fat-girl misses the old me sometimes. Although, I don't.

1 year tomorrow. 100 more to go.

In 6th grade, we'd have to go to the gym before school started. Every morning, we'd pile into the bleachers sectioned off - in the order our buses arrived.

I had just moved back to Smyrna schools from being at LaVergne since 1st grade. I knew no one. No one but Trever, who had transferred the same year, and the 5th grade blonde headed chick who was nice to me on the bus.

The first few weeks, I sat by myself in the gym. Then, as I started to get more comfortable, I decided one day I'd sit beside blonde-headed chick and her friend.

My friend was nice to me, asking me how I was and that she liked my shirt. Her friend snarled her nose at me and scooted away. My friend looked at her, surprised, "where you going?" she said - with no shame, to my face - "I don't talk to fat people. She's ugly."

My friend scrugged and scooted over by her.

I never talked to them again. I can't even remember their names, as they are blacked out in my 6th grade yearbook. Here we are almost 20 years later (imagine my face when I figured that up) and I still never forgot that moment. Although those chicks bothered me, I made a lot of friends that year (but I never got the nerve to speak to Charlie Hall til 7th grade) regardless.

Tomorrow, it'll be a year since I made a drastic decision to save my life. I had Lap-band surgery. Living as one of the "fat people" was starting to destroy me. Although, it's been tough - and definitely not the easy way - I wouldn't take it back for the world.

I know most of blogs revolve around my weight struggle. Especially the whining when I gain a few (or 8!) So, I will leave this one with my stats, updated today:

2005 - size 39 womens jeans/60 mens.

2008 - size 30 womens jeans/51 mens.

2005 - size 32 shirt.

2008 - size 14 shirt.

2005 - Bust, 46DD

2008 - Bust, 42C :(

2005 - Ring, 9

2008 - Ring, 7 1/2

2005 - Shoe, 11

2008 - Shoe, 9 1/2

2005 - Hips, 69

2008 - Hips, 58

2005 - Waist, 40

2008 - Waist, 34

Total weight loss since surgery: 52lbs

Total weight loss: 103lbs

Stumbling off the wagon.

I've had an "off" kind of two weeks. Not in my attitude or health-wise - but more emotional wise. I noticed yesterday that something being off effects everything else. A lot of people say that this is an excuse. But, it makes sense.

Ya see, I, like most people, live my life on a budget. If anything gets off the budget or costs more than it should - everything else gets screwed.

To get Poppy here for my birthday, it was $120 round-trip. I am not complaining - him being here was the most special of occasions. But $120 took a hunk out of my monthly budget.

Also, gas prices are about to kill me. $4 a gallon is tough, even for someone who gets good gas mileage.

I was off my anti-depressants for a week. Paying for Poppy to go back so soon, I was having difficulty, running my car on mere fumes, for three days. No less the extra $20 for co-pay of my meds.

Being off my meds for a week really changed me. Quitting cold turkey is never good. I notice a difference in myself. I feel things deeper, I cry, and I eat....a lot. I'm sure it's all emotional and hormonal - considering some of the food I ate this week I never really touch.

I didn't sleep well, I couldn't concentrate, felt bloated and unhappy. No exercising. I'd snap at people and was extremely touchy. But, I didn't care. I didn't care about a lot of stuff. I had self-destructive behavior within just a week.

Yesterday morning, I stepped on the scale. And, it was a crushing blow.

I gained 8 pounds. 8. Eight pounds in a week.

Talk about getting smacked in the face with reality.

I fell off the wagon. Or more stumbled off and got hit by the passing truck.

And I could say "gas prices caused me to gain weight" - but I'm not. I know it was all me. Being unstable on my own, without something to stabilize my anxiety, causes emotional turmoil. I cannot do it again.

I felt fat, ugly & insecure yesterday. I wanted to just not eat all day - but I knew I couldn't do that - that is as unhealthy as over-eating. But I did calm down some after getting my prescription, finally. I reeeally didn't feel like going to the graveyard for the family reunion - but we did it anyway. And it was nice. Very nice.

I did see Joe & Kara here for their visit. Joe was so drunk, I doubt he remembers it. And I'm glad I was less edgy later last night, or I might have snapped and not meant to.

Today I slept all day. This is my meds calming down my brain. Kinda chillin' me out. I have had no anxiety today. I haven't ate much, but that is the way it's SUPPOSE to be.

I talked to Poppy this morning. Wishing him a happy poppy day. He said that was the first time he had been wished a happy father's day - ever. I am unsure if this is true, but it was still nice.

We'll be celebrating when he comes back next month.

Cracks in the floor.

If you are seeing this, you are probably seeing my default.

When I found that pic of me & my gran, I stared at it for a good 2 minutes without blinking.

I know that I talk a lot about weight in my blogs. I talk a lot the way the world treats us differently. How much my life has changed. But, looking at that pic - it all became so much clearer. Kinda like actually being able to lift a veil. To see with definition.

In that picture, I can honestly say - I was close to 500lbs. Of course, I couldn’t weight on my doctors scales. I was 23 years old and the unhappiest I have ever been. While I will never be ashamed to show a picture of me & my gran....as I type this, my lower lip quivers.

I asked my mom an honest question: "Do you think she’d be proud of me?"

She smiled, lovingly and replied "She’d say "Lord have mercy, you’re goin’ fall through the cracks in the floor!"

I laughed.

I, by all scales, have lost more than 100lbs since that picture.

Today, I visited Dr Morton’s office for a check-up. As I sat among the people who are either filling out forms to start the process or have had surgery. They sat, small talk, discussions about surgeries, their doctors, CNN on the tv...the chairs, which are made wider, pushed together for some. One woman came in, wheelchair bound because of her massive amount of stomach.

I remembered the 23 year old girl in the above picture. I was suffocating in my own body. I looked down at myself now, the baggy sweat pants that used to be too tight. The 18/20 t-shirt that fits perfectly to my new frame. And I could not believe how small I felt.

I’m not small. Not by all means. I was smaller in high school. But I have never felt as small as I do now. It’s probably the inches.

The lady beside me was 70 years old, she had lap-band 2 weeks ago. Her granddaughter had brought her today for her check-up. Her addiction to food came after her husband died 5 years ago.

The girl across from us, she was 23-26. She had her surgery 1 year ago. She lost 70lbs.

The woman beside her had her surgery in August, she has lost 50lbs.

I asked my nurse about the numbers. "Do the numbers matter as much as I think they do?", because I haven’t lost as much as I’d hoped in 9 months. She said "No. I am not worried about numbers. You seem as though you are in the right place mentally. Once that takes hold - there is nothing going to stop you now."

And she is right.

Life might have been a struggle, physically, for that 23 year old in the picture. But, now at 28, I am finally living a life I want. No one can change me, but me.

And I like it that way.

I’m Joe’s girl. Who are you?

Okay, so I'm waiting on meds to kick in - which means, it'll be about an hour. Seriously, lap-band prevents anything that isn't liquid from hitting your stomach until it's ready. Which, good thing for food. Bad thing for meds.

Let's talk about the talk of the talk. I've been getting emails and reading tmz like crazy. No not for Britney news (yea, she's fucking psycho). But for news that brings a smile to almost every chick my age.

The New Kids On The Block reunion.

Oh c'mon - you know you loved them. Embrace your inner child. Seriously, has it BEEN 20 years?

My room was covered in posters, I saw them twice in concert, and I still have a t-shirt as most of you have seen in the pictures. I owned all the tapes (yes, tapes - not cds). But I didn't own "Face the music" I had pretty much grown out of them by that point and had moved on to....yes, Dr Dre & Snoop Dogg. I went from The Monkees to NKOTB to Dre. Thus is the life of a teenager.

Joey was my favorite. Still is. I own a cd of his solo work. "Meet Joe Mac" - yes, corny, I care not.

If they get back together, I'm there. Wearing my "I'll be lovin' you (forever)" shirt. And maybe I can find my big Joe button. Who knows? I'm 28 years old and it's past the point where I worried about how stupid I look. Life is too short.

No matter how many grey hairs I have, how much work - life - guys have put stress on me. I still have a chubby 8 year old girl inside me. Who still loves NKOTB.

Band of 180.

In December of 2005, I stepped on a scale and saw three numbers blink at me.

My doctor sighed looking at me, my blood pressure was shooting through the roof, 200/300 - 213/200...she was concerned. I was concerned.

She said "So, where do you see yourself in 10 years?" I always hated that question, ever since I was a child. I'm not good at long-term goals. I know I want to be a good person, the kind of person I'd want to be friends with - besides that? I'm good.

But her question startled me as I saw the three numbers written in red and underlined at the top of my chart.In that moment, my mind raced and I said "If I keep gaining weight, I probably won't be around in 10 years."

It was the most honest I had been about my size in years. Probably ever.

Most of people reading this have known me for a very long time. I have never been 'uncomfortable' in my body. I can handle my own. And snarky comments? Psh. You suck too.

But, two years ago, I knew I had to get control before I lost it all. Last chance. "You either fix yourself, or you die."

When you tell yourself this, with your bp sky-rocketing and having panic attacks left and right - your body will listen.

It was hard. I fell a lot. I whined. I cried. I kicked. I screamed. I gained. I lost. When it came down to it, in 2006, I got control.

But, it wasn't enough. I needed help. And after debating for the entire year, I decided that lap-band was my best bet.

Six months ago yesterday, I had a life-changing (and saving) surgery.

Since surgery, I have lost 42 pounds.

Since January of '05, the total is at around 95-102 (scales are all different and I despise them).

Anyone that says weight-loss surgery is the easy way out...obviously hasn't had it. Nothing about being banded is what I would call 'easy'.

You miss food. You miss eating. You miss bread. You get sick. You sometimes have to be 'patted' on the back for food to make up it's mind (come up or go down).

But then you have the good side...Since '05, I have went from a 30/32 shirt & 38/40 pants. To a 18/20 shirt & 26/28 pants. I feel better. My bp is under control. I can walk up stairs without my heart beating in my head. I have more energy.

While I am proud, I am not bragging by all means. I still have 100 more pounds to go. (And my THIGHS won't leeeeeave.) but I have no shame in where I was and how far I have come. Six months down, a lifetime to go...

Keep your pants on, girl.

So, today I am wearing my extra-big Winnie The Pooh sweatshirt. I bought it back in '96 with my camp check. And my grey pj pants - that have no elastic.

It's been a lazy weekend of cleaning & straightening. I had bags of trash to take to the dumpster. And, the more they sat in the kitchen, the more my mom was filling them up and adding more to the pile. I decided, after a small nap, that I needed to get to them before I had to make about 7 trips.

I start with two bags, carrying them over, I pass by a man speaking spanish on his cell. I'm assuming he's talking about his truck, he's waving his hands wildly. I catch his attention as I near, but look ahead to the dumpster.

I come back, two more bags. These are heavier than the last.

As I near the dumpster, I feel my pants slip a little off my hips, but figure they'll hold. As I toss bag one into the pile - yep, I flash all the kids at the playground along with the man on the cell who....stares then starts talking rapidly. I'm sure saying "I just saw this chicks panties!"

Luckily, they didn't fall to my knees. Just enough to make me extremely uncomfortable. And dude got a sneak peek of my goodies.

I think it's time to retire this outfit. Especially the pants. Once they fall down in public, they kinda loose their appeal

Fat. Part 2.

A little over a month ago, I posted a blog called "fat". It got a lot of attention, not only from the comments, but from friends who emailed me directly. Few days ago, Julie sent me an article on a 9-year old girl who was battling anorexia. 9. 5th grade with an eating disorder. Then, on the most recent episode of Grey's Anatomy (no spoilers) there was a man who refused to move in with his girlfriend until she was a size 4. This would not have bothered me as bad if I knew it was fiction, but I know a couple, personally, that this was the case. Except she had to be a size 2. I spoke with Corey at length about this. He's one of the few guys who's opinion actually counts with me. He says it's hollywood's influence. I say it is part hollywood. Part men. Men are so visual. It's not really their fault that they are. They want to fuck something by looking at it. Women want to fuck something by talking to it. Just the way we are built. good men are about 2%. Then there are men with low self-esteem that need to have a trophy wife. There are the manwhores, who will fuck anything. There are men who will not take a chance with a bigger girl because of what their friends will think. And then their are the men who have such a low self-image, they will secretly fuck the bigger girls because they can dominate to make themselves feel better. Ya see, those men think that bigger girls have a lower self-esteem and are desperate, easier to manipulate. Hey, I'm all for the man being dominate in bed. But, if you are going to call me at 2am and then act like you don't know me when people are around, I'm gone. That isn't anything but an ego boast by destroying someone else. That is evil. A guy recently emailed me and said "you're hot, big girls need love too!" and I wrote him back and said "...but not from assholes." "Big girls need love too" is probably the worst phrase in the world. To me, it's like saying "black girls need love too." or "smokers need love too." - c'mon people. We are all the same. You have meat on your bones? So? Are you happy? Are you healthy? Do you have some common sense? Do you like pina coladas? Do you like getting caught in the rain? Then that is all that matters. If you aren't happy, do something about it besides eating that cheeseburger or fucking random people to make you feel better. And if you are one of those guys who like your women to look like this: Just...don't...don't..don't even talk to me.

La meilleure nuit jamais.

...yes I am learning French.

After work today, we spent time at McDonald's with Amber & her kids. I snapped shots of them playing in the playset...and laughed at Logan coming down the slide backward.

When I tried to eat my double cheeseburger, no bread, it didn't like me.

I guess I got excited.

Amber said "That went down well for you last time." I said "I know..it's odd."

I think it was the lettuce. I got the "Lap-band stare" which Steph & I refer to it. When you think you might be getting sick but you are internally fighting with yourself, so you just stare at a spot on the floor.

Kane, who is 5, said "what wrong?" I said "Remember I had stomach surgery?" he said "Oh yeah...and you can't eat?" I said "No, I can...but, I think I ate too fast." he said "Yeah, I burp a lot when I eat too much."

Kids are priceless.

After that, mom & I decided to go to the mall. I have been needing new pants, but...god, I hate pants shopping. Everyone has that one part of their body that they hate shopping for. Pants is mine. Because I used to get so depressed. I got the thighage. I got the bootyage. And...pants hate me. And I'm fucking six-feet tall, which doesn't help my case any.

So, I go into Hot Topic, looking at the tees. My mom feels completely out of place, I know. I didn't buy anything though, thought about getting a few things, but decided against.

My mom was on the phone in the outside hallway when I whispered that I was traveling over to Charlotte Russe.

Now, first off, lemme explain. I grew up with Kristen. While we have a lot of the same views and personality...we are complete opposites when it comes to appearance.

I'm 6-ft tall, brown hair, brown eyes, always been obese, never been able to find clothes big enough.

She is 5'2', blonde hair, green eyes, always been tiny, never been able to find clothes small enough.

Yeah. As of last year, I only went into places like Charlotte Russe & GAP to help her with outfits.

I am 28 years old, and I had never been into a place that only sold to size XL and know I could fit into something until tonight.

When I walked in...I felt awkward. Kinda insecure. My thoughts overwhelmed me at times. Passing by all the skinny chicks without getting 'what the fuck is that big girl doing in here?' stares.

Come on, we've all seen "Pretty Woman". I use to be like Julia Roberts in stores like these, except for the whole 'dressing like a hooker' thing.

Then I look up to see Candance, Kristen's best friend. Candance is absolutely stunning, always has been. We make eye contact, I smile.

....and Candance has a complete....well, 'gaa-gaa' experience when she sees me.

She says "OH. MY. GOD. Tamela! I didn't even know you! You look fantastic!" I said "Oh! Thanks...wow...ya know, I was kinda nervous, I have never really shopped here before.." she said "I cannot take my eyes off of you! look...wow...look at your tiny little waist..." and this girl, who is like 110 pounds squeezes my sides right there in Charlotte Russe and makes me squeal.

Yea, if you have never tickled me before, it's actually extremely funny.

Girls around us look up. She said "You look amazing!" I said "Wow..." again, overwhelmed here and not sure what to say. I'm standing in a 'skinny' store being complimented by the smallest & most gorgeous girl in the room. I guess you'd compare it to the head cheerleader complimenting the social outcast in front of her peers. It was a wonderful feeling.

After leaving Candance, I bought some pants at Goody. Nothing too expensive.

And I have been on a high all night.

I was singing "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse using my straw as my microphone on the way home.

Check myspace to see that Chris got some new music up and that Little Lisa FINALLY had baby Ruby.

Seriously, my night couldn't have been better.

La mort de la grosse fille.

"You know you've changed when your own cousin doesn't recongize you." - Felicia

Amazing.

Have you ever had a moment of complete epiphany? Where something that has bother you suddenly makes sense?

Today, my good friend Marianne made a very good point that never occurred to me. She said that these feelings, these thoughts, these 'not-sure-what-the-hell-is-going-on-with-me' moments - it's mourning.

Mourning for the person I was.

As easy as it seems and as much as this makes sense, it took her saying it to me to open my eyes to it.

And now I just want to cry.

I'm not sure why.

Cry for the person I was. Cry for the fucking fat girl.

The girl who, when stressed, would eat so much she would be miserable. Who would turn to food as a crutch. Sad, lonely, rejected - food was it.

Since 2005, I have gone from this to this:



While yes, I feel better and it is wonderful - I think I am fully comprehending that this girl - The girl above in my favorite pink shirt which is now my night shirt - is still inside me. And she kinda has no idea what has happened.

I have taken her life, which was:

1 ham & cheese omelet
1 chicken & cheese casadea
1 hand full of sunflower seeds
1 half candy bar
1 meal from mcdonald's

And replaced it with:
1 hamburger with no bun
5 tater tots

That is all I ate today. My fat girl is fucked up! She's gone psycho!

I told Rebecca, "I can't depend on food anymore when I am stressed. I don't smoke. I don't drink often. I don't smoke pot. I guess I'm just going to have to have more sex."

This is what I get for being a good girl. An angry fat girl inside who never eats.

She will eventually die, I hope. And the new person, who can eat these small amounts (remember I don't get hungry) and not be angry at the world when she's stressed will emerge.

Life being banded.

Ever since I started thinking about getting Lap-Band back at the beginning of last year, my family & friends have showed me an entirely different side of our relationship.

They are either,

A. Bombarding me with questions or...
B. Quiet and are not saying much.

I know the ones that are quiet have a couple of dozen questions. My aunt Shirley has become the queen of voicing her concerns. Some have asked me when we have been alone, I'm sure this is not to embarrass me, or even themselves by asking something aloud which other people would be like "oh my god, I can't believe she asked that!"

It's concern, and I would rather them ask me and discuss than for a mind to wander.

I had an acquaintance ask a friend if I had it. She said she didn't know if I wanted people to know. If that was true, you wouldn't know. I have nothing to be embarrassed about, I have nothing to hide. While I done good on my own, I needed a tool to help me get health.

Everything from what happens when I reach my goal ("Do they remove the band?") to how many calories I consume a day (400-700) to what it feels like when food gets stuck (like a fist being pushed into your back) has been discussed.

Star Jones tried to say she lost her weight with diet & exercise. While that is part of it, you cannot lose 200 pounds in a year without help. Use your celebrity to help people, you heifer.

So, this is a drawing of what it looks like.

Pretty cool if you ask me. The part above the band is my actual 'stomach' now. As long as their is food in that portion, my brain gets a signal that I'm full. Soups, liquid, ice cream all that soft stuff goes through a lot faster. Hearty stuff, chicken, beef, porky, they all remain for awhile.

Right now, I am about where I need to be. I can eat a cup of solid, protein-y food and remain full for four hours. If I wasn't not here yet, I would have to get an adjustment where they insert saline between your band & stomach. This tightens it, causing you to remain fuller longer. I am at 3ccs of saline right now.

Of course, like with anything, I have complications.

Sinus drainage is probably the worse. The mucus covers the port around my stomach making me 'signal' that I'm full and if I get food that cannot break it up...well, let's just say, it's not pretty. This is what I get living in a place where it is 103 degrees one day, and 50 degrees the next.

I am also dealing with some social pressure. Not from my friends, who are fantastic, but from the fact that when you are in a social setting and people are eating - you want to eat as well. It can make you feel very different when you are sitting in a restaurant and the person you are with is chowing down, people around you are chowing...and you have just ate three bites of chili.

Just being in that setting makes you want to eat. Makes you want to keep consuming. And more than once, that has bitten me in the ass.

But, besides the small complications, I have enjoyed this experience so far. It has been three months and I'm at 25 pounds lost since surgery. I'm not trying to look at the actual poundage, my nurse said to focus more on how I feel - which is better. And I have lost a massive amount of inches.

My life is different now. Everyone who is around me has had to adjust to my new relationship with food. It's weird, you never know how much you miss it until you rarely eat.

If you have any questions, just ask me.

Fat.

Fat.

I have always hated that word. While, yes, I have been guilty of calling myself that before – it's probably the worse word in vocabulary. Fat, in my head, means lazy – unwashed – sloppy – an insult.

We joke at work about having 'fat-girl' syndrome – which is a love to eat.

Everyone I know loves to eat.

I know people who have 'fat-girl' syndrome and never gain a pound. I call those people "asses".

Nothing wrong with a love for food, though. As long as it doesn't become a problem...

Binge eating was one of my many forms of self-abuse during my depression. It was never bad enough to fall into Bulimia. No doubt it could have, but a disapproving look from my doctor while viewing my recent weight history turned things around.

This is not something I am proud of. While binging may have contributed to some of the rapid weight gain within the past ten years, I place blame nowhere but on myself and lack of control. Not only with food, but with life.

As hard as it is sometimes, I am doing something about my health. But, that is a different story.

I think everyone has issues with self-image. I don't think I am the only one who has spent time looking in the mirror and cussing. Either you like the way you look or you don't.

Nothing wrong with liking your physical appearance, as long as it doesn't become like the dude in 'American Psycho' who he flexed his muscles in the mirror while having sex with a girl doggy-style.

One of the things I don't like about being bigger is the fact that some guys have such a low-self image – and although, they like me, they refused to take a chance. "What will people think?" it really is their loss. I maybe be a little insane, but I am a good girlfriend.

As I get smaller, I noticed more eyes…more attention…and I wonder, 'hmmm…would he look at me if I HADN'T lost 100 pounds?' some of them, probably not. The attention is nice though.

I am not nor have I ever been 'big-boned'.

I am not 'fat'. No one I know is fat.

I am me. And you should be you. Afterall, it's the most difficult thing to do.

.....drugs.

1. I am not good with medication. Any person who deals with me on a daily bases know this. I have often wondered what I would be like on recreational drugs, considering I can get high on tylenol.

2. I have been fighting a sinus infection for a month.

3. I have already had to have some saline removed from my band to help my food go down because of the sinus drainage.

4. The gurgle is still there. The boy calls it my demon. He also has grown used to it. I was trying to walk off some of my food....trying to get it down. I said "I just wanna scream 'take it bitch!'" he replied with "Ah, yea, I want to scream that often." I didn't even feel well enough to reply back to his dirty sarcastic remark - so I just playfully pinched his belly.

5. If I don't have something hot to drink or eat before I actually eat my solids - I will get sick fast and it's NOT pretty.

6. My nurse said to take some mucinex to help break up the...well, mucus. But, the pills are too big. The pharmacist said that Robitussin had idon'tknowwhatitisbutit'saboutthislong in it that I needed.

7. God, I hate robitussin. It makes me gag. I mean, blaaaah. I stared at that bottle for a very long time, knowing that if it didn't go down - I would have to suffer through tasting it again. I decided it wasn't worth it.

8. Then I tried to eat something small - a little smokey. And one bite, the demon was back. And my ass was in the kitchen opening that bottle as fast as possible.

9. Oh, my god. Whatever that shit is - it is wonderful. Seriously, it was like orgasm in a bottle! I felt instant relief - it made me sleepy, relaxed the tension and I actually feel normal.

10. This weekend is chalking up to be busy and nice. I'll hopefully have my strength up enough to live it up.

Discouragement..

I haven't been able to hold down a lot of substance since my adjustment tuesday. I am now at a 3.6cc saline intake in my band. My band goes up to 10ccs. Today, I have ate the following:

- Half a scrambled egg, two sasuage links.
- Chicken from the chicken noodle soup.
- A pinch of CW & Amy's wedding cake.
- A small tomato & a slice of cheese.
- Three bites of chinese food.

The chinese food...yeah, that would be my first food vomiting experience since surgery. I had to cancel tonight's plans with Alicia, because I don't want to be a downer who is spitting up all night.

I read a lot about Lap-band before having it done. At obesityhelp.com, they say that one of the thoughts after surgery is 'oh god! what have I done?' I never thought that, I was firm in my decision to get healthier for the sake of my future.

But right now, while having to sit down at my sink while vomiting because I am so weak? yeah, I had that thought.

What have I done?
Will I be like this forever?
Will I be 50 and still vomiting over three bites of food?
Is getting my body healthy enough to one day have a child really worth this?

Right now, I am unsure. 16 pounds in 7 weeks is terrific, yes. But, at this moment? I feel nothing but discouragement & regret.

I know I'm just having a bad week. I'm sure I'll get past it. It's just really hard to focus on the future at this point.

Surgery update.

I have no idea EXACTLY how much weight I have lost since surgery. The hives outbreak I had afterward kinda stumped my loss last month. I would say pre-op - and post-op I have lost between 21-25 pounds. That is giving & taking a little. That puts my total weight loss since January of '06 at around 80-85 pounds.

I can tell more in my clothes than anything. I only have one pair of jeans that fit right now, and honestly, I am talking 'fit' as in that I could probably pass as dressing 'gangsta'. But, I still feel as though I'm not small enough to go down a size. That could be just my brain trying to trick me.

It's weird as hell not eating and not being hungry. Like anyone else, I have good days & bad when it comes to this. Last weekend was a bad food weekend, I could barely eat anything so I would steal off of others' plates. A fry here. A bite there.

I have learned that if you have sinus issues or a cold - fuck it, you aren't eating a thing.

After my first fill, I got into a fight with a stewed potato. It got stuck, and god I thought I was going to die. It felt like an ice cream headache in my back without the cold. Now I am scared of them. You stay faaaar away from me, mr potato!

A few people have been around me when I have gotten sick. Not SICK sick, but...'yeah, this sucks' sick. Me & Steph agree, the person sick gets reeeeally quiet. "You try your best to get that shit down!" Steph says. When Johnny & Amber were over here the other day, I got sick and had to do some 'adjusting'. Poor Johnny.

Thank goodness I have friends who are willing to eat the rest of my food. And Julie, who drank the rest of my diet dr pepper after I realized that I couldn't have it.

Second fill is tuesday. I kinda like where I am right now, but saline is a friend. The more you have, the faster you lose.

An encounter with 'Stuart'.

Living my whole life as a obese person, I have dealt a lot with people who judge based on looks only. Guys are the worst at this. Seriously. Guys, you can suck. Suck bad.

Kids can be cruel too. In fact, just tuesday, I ran into Wal-Mart to grab some dinner (and run into like a million people I know). I was feeling good, knowing that I am close to my 20 pound mark, and looking for cheese.

A woman in her business attire & 4 inch shoes talking on her cell phone came up behind me. Her son, around 8, was running around her cart like Stuart from MADtv, grabbing everything in sight and slamming it loudly into the cart. He shouts "Mooooom, someone is really really big and she's in the waaaay!" she says "Shhh...Noah, don't be rude."

I didn't move. A woman standing beside me's eyes got big as she glared awkwardly at 'Stuart'. I just smiled to myself slightly & grabbed my cheese.

'Stuart' insulting me loudly in the meat section of the wal-mart didn't bother me. Puleaze. I have dealt with 'Stuarts' all my life.

What bothered me most...was the fact that I am sure 'Stuart' has a little girl in his classroom who is a chubby 8 year old. She probably gets picked on by 'Stuart' & his friends all the time. And if she is poked and made fun of to her limit - and she cries, her teacher tells her to "buck up" and "everyone has to take it". And the teacher tells 'Stuart' that the girl is sensitive. Which causes it all to start over again.

Do you think 'Stuart' is too young to know the difference between being a bully and being polite?

This is what I call torture.

I have a skin condition called chronic hives. My dermo diagnosticed it in April. Between March, April & the beginning of May, I broke out with hives over half a dozen times. Bad part is? Nearly 80% of cases of hives never find a cause..

The day after my lap-band, I awoke to not only being sore as hell, but also broken out all over my arms. Two doses of childen's allergy relief (liquid) cleared it up and I was good.

....that is, of course, until this past tuesday. By tuesday my stomach had healed the pain gone - but I was 'hivey' all over my body. I was taking that liquid stuff on a schedule, buddy. It would clear for about 2-3 hours and then come back.

Wednesday, the same. All day, small blotches.

Thursday morning, I woke up at 3am with my throat closing up. We ran to the ER. The doctor took one look at me and said "you have hives. We'll give you a shot, okay?" The shot cleared them and made me sleepy, but by 3pm yesterday I was broken out again - this time with a vegenace.

Right now as I sit here at 6:43am I have slept 45 minutes tonight. I am blotchy from my hands to my arms, to my back, to my neck, to my face, to my legs....in fact there is nowhere on my body right now that does NOT have a red blotch of some kind. I have done every lotion, creme, steriod, allergy medicine...known to man. I have stood in the shower with cold water running over me, yet they are still there - still itching - looking at me like 'is that all you've got?'

I have an appointment with an allergy specialist at 1pm today. I pray they give me something good. If I could just sleep...

Forget being off two weeks for my surgery, I needed a whole week just for my hives.

Them bastards.

--------------------------
Update: I called my allergy specialist at 9am and they were able to squeeze me in. My doctor says it is something I am ingesting causing them to react. She gave me some good drugs. The only thing she is concerned about is the fact that my fingers & toes were turning blue. She said that my skin could be just having such a reaction that it is preventing good blood from getting to my limbs. Glad I went in early!

Also, to you SHS people, I saw Bubba Brown today at the gas station. We waved, but I didn't feel much like talking.

Day 5.

Today I have ate the following foods:


Breakfast: 1 scrambled egg; 1/2 2% cheese slice; 1/2 wheat toast. Sipped on decaf tea with sweet & low.
Lunch: 1 cup of sugar free jello pudding; 1 slice of summer sausage, courtesy of Tony. Sipped on water.
Mid-Snack: Grazed on some small ham, turkey & cheese slices at Lisa' Mary Kay party. Also had a few cherry tomatoes. Sipped on diet sprite.
Dinner: 1 cup of vegetable soup; 1/2 grilled chicken salad with fat free Italian. Sipped on water with lemon.

According to fitday.com, I have consumed around 950 calories today. Maybe not even that much considering it won't let me figure in halves.

The weirdest thing is not having hunger pains. Seriously. It's like...I know when I need to eat, but I don't feel the 'oh god, I gotta eat right this second...' feeling.

Tomorrow I start my walking routine. I cannot start exercising (like weights, lifting, etc) until I see my doctor in July. But walking will be good. Good start.

Why do people never listen to me?

Surgery went well yesterday. The anastelogist nurse came in with Penicillin; which I had told them about 6 times I was allergic to. "Well, what does it do to you?" "I break out in hives."

She left the room, came back with 'penicillin's distant cousin.' I said, getting testy, "I am allergic." "Well, most people who are allergic to penicillin can take this." I said "Alllllright."

Surgery itself went well. No complications.

I couldn't sleep on my bed last night and did spit up a little when I got home. I think it was most just body-shock.

Woke up from an uncomfortable night to find that I was completely broke out with hives.

What did I tell you? Seriously, people NEVER listen to me.

My nurse told me to stop taking everything and get some benedryel. Two doses of that taken 4 hours apart cleared me up, but I was starting to hurt from some gas pains.

Actually, I couldn't tell you what exactly it was...or where I was hurting from. But I was hurting. My nurse (who I bugged 4 times today) told me to go back on the regular meds since the hives cleared up and get some GasX.

Now I feel fine, besides some soreness. Even felt well enough to shower for a bit.

Hopefully, it will remain like this.

My name is chica-chica Slim Shady..

I have no idea why Emenim is stuck in my head. It's not like I have heard him recently or anything.

Today I start clear liquids for 48 hours. How freakin' exciting. And I am going out of town today for family tradition of decoration at the graveyard.

I miss my Gran.

My doctor did say that while out of town, if I get too hungry that I can have a grilled chicken breast only. Which is fine, but I'm going to try to make it! Wish me luck.

Kevin - if you are reading this, we are meeting at 5, hope to see you there!