2 months post-surgery – Bringing up Baby.

Last Friday was two months from my RNY surgery and I thought it was time for an update.

The first month after surgery passed in a whirl of doctors appointments, blood tests and medication adjustments.

Month two is where the reality of what I’d done started to really kick in. I’d heard about treating your new stomach like a newborn baby but always thought it was a bit of an artificial metaphor. Boy, was I wrong.

So here are Six reasons why my new stomach is like a baby:

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The evils of ‘just a bite’

The evils of ‘just a bite’

And I say to you brothers and sisters that no where, Ah Said, No Where, in the earth, the heavens, or your soggy little mind has the idea of ‘just a bite’ ever existed.

Todays lesson in humility is brought to you by the letter B.

sliced bread beside wheat on table

B is for Bread – which I baked yesterday.

B is for Bite – which I promised myself was all I would have.

B is for Bloated – which is how I feel. Just like a pregnant whale on a July beach.

B is for Bathroom – which, well, you know the rest. 

If you’ve been following this blog, you know that I’ve been on this lifestyle journey for a very long time now. Slowly learning about what does and doesn’t nourish my body and about how to be as respectful and gracious to myself as I try to be to others.

It still amazes me though how much of a mind*F* I can twist myself into at times. Yesterday I was baking for the boy’s dinner and I wanted some. Not bad food – just not a good choice. I’m still only three weeks out from bariatric surgery. I want to eat carbs/bread? Really?

This is probably not the nourishing food my body needs to heal.

My brain is sneaky though, it kept telling me that if I didn’t go over my two-ounce limit I could get away with it. Just a bite, it whispered. All the while waving Lucifer’s yeast laden offspring in front of my quivering nose.  So I thought I would be smart. I made bread for the boys as well as 4 small cobs, each less than an ounce… me-sized.

You know that dough rises, right? Well, let me tell you, as soon as I decided to make buns suitable for my limits. The bread started rising. The taste and smell of it clawed through my forebrain and into those instinct driven centres I don’t like to think about, and can seldom control. Within 3 hours the bread was baked and my four babies had been buttered and eaten. Four one-ounce breadlings were dropped into a system that is still healing from major surgery and hasn’t had real food in almost six months, the result of these little yeast bombs was predictable, diarrhoea, cramps, nausea… dumping syndrome.

My poor lizard brain doesn’t understand ‘just a bite.’ It recognizes full or empty, wants or doesn’t want. I just can’t do this to myself any more.  I need to find a way past this brain game and realize what it truly is. It will never be just a bite, it always means more, needs more.

Not sure how to do this. Have you had any success taming the irrational hungries?

For now, no more baking!

 

 

 

Just one more mountain.

As I drive the four hours to Edmonton for my surgery tomorrow, I thought I’d check in and let you know that things are moving forward. The last week has been hard, much harder than the six months before it, and now I’m looking at the last mountain.

I’m scared, scared of changing, scared of not changing enough, just scared. But this is still the right thing to do and with a push, I’ll get’er done.

Here’s something I stole from another group that fits a lot of what this journey has held for me.  For me about 95% of this has applied

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40 things people won’t understand unless you’ve had massive weight loss – weight loss surgery:

1. It’s not the easy way out
2. It’s not guaranteed that you will lose weight
3. You’re more than a skinny face
4. You still eat, eat to live
5. You’re not gonna be skinny overnight
6. It’s mentally draining
7. You take thousands of pictures because you don’t believe it’s you
8. You still “feel” fat at times
9. You feel like the world is judging you/watching you
10. You fear failure
11. Being healthy is #1
12. You still occasionally eat junk food
13. You do a lot of soul searching
14. You lose a lot of friends during your journey that were never really there for you anyway
15. You gain supportive chosen family (friends)
16. You’re gonna fall off the wagon and that’s ok (get back on)
17. You’re not perfect
18. You have a thousand thoughts running through your head every moment of everyday just about food/calories/exercise/calories burned
19. You are your own worst enemy
20. You talk about your weight loss because that’s YOU, it’s your life, it’s forever a part of you
21. It’s ok to be proud
22. You wish others shared your love of exercise/calorie counting because it’s been drilled into you everyday of your journey.
23. You don’t judge others who are overweight
24. All you want is to be “normal” and wear normal size clothes
25. Your not trying to look like a Barbie (but being cute helps )
26. You wear new stylish clothes because none of your old clothes fit anymore and you can’t walk around naked
27. You aren’t looking for compliments, just acceptance
28. You will occasionally make a fat joke (you made fat jokes when you were fat and no one thought anything about it)
29. You want people to know you used to be obese because you want to give them motivation, let them know it’s possible to lose the weight
30. You aren’t conceited, you are just proud of your accomplishments
31. You don’t want to change the world, just adapt to it
32. It’s hard to socialize because no matter what people will bring up your weight loss
33. Depression is imminent at one point
34. Food is an addiction that you have to control
35. The whole process is exhausting and never ends
36. People will judge you no matter what your size/weight is
37. Inside and out you are a completely different person for the better
38. You secretly wish everyday was cheat day
39. You would love to cure the world of obesity but you know that’s impossible
40. You are worth the endless sacrifice

Oh, Bread. Why do I love/hate you so?

 

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I guess it was to be expected.

I knew going in that not every day on this weight loss journey would be full of wonderfulness and puppies.

The days that aren’t,

are usually full of bread.

Over the past few weeks things have been fairly stable. I’ve lost a few more pounds and, other than a mordant obsession with the upcoming surgery, I am feeling confident and comfortable with where things are going and what I expect from here on out.

Then today happened, my willpower disappeared, and the bread came knocking.  I ended up baking two dozen homemade buns and a dozen cinnamon buns, as treats for my family, of course.  So the house filled with the smell of yeast and cinnamon and I caved in. I’m not sure if it’s my on-again off-again carb addiction, or … Oh who am I kidding, it’s bread, it’s always on.

So I broke down, I took a cob or two, slathered them in butter, and prepared to chow down. Only it didn’t work.  Yes, I ate them, but they didn’t taste good and they sat in my gullet like bricks. Now I’m sitting here feeling nauseated and disappointed with myself. Maybe it really isn’t good for me any more, maybe I’ll finally learn, maybe pigs will fly.

My Boobs Are Falling Off!

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I’m now 18.5 months into prep for weight loss surgery and yes, it’s working. I’ve lost 85 pounds and hopefully will be getting a surgery date soon.

BUT . . .

There is something very important that I just wasn’t warned about. I was prepared for wrinkles, for sagging, even for the inevitable gas bombs that come from a liquid diet but no one told me that my boobs would fall off!

For the past two weeks I’ve been dealing with frightful electric shocks right through the girls every time I bend down to reach for something. If you’re dealing with this please remember that wearing a very good support bra helps a lot!

Not being fond of getting my chest zapped a dozen times a day, I took this issue to my doctor and learned something completely wild. As an obese woman the nerves in my shoulder girdle and chest wall have been compressed for years by layers of extra padding. Those nerves are now resurfacing, and believe me they arent happy.

“Squish me for decades will you? You’re in for it now!”

According to the doctor, the chest wall architecture will settle down as the weightloss progresses and once I level off it will stop all together.  Until then, don’t bump into me. For your own safety. Just dont!

The things they don’t tell you. Someone aught to write a book.

The last climb.

So, I got my date for surgery. On June 22, 2018, I’ll be up in Edmonton and my life will change again.  I should be ecstatic, thrilled, frightened – so many things that I should be. What I am is tired.

I think a lot of it comes with being 4 months on a liquid diet and at a bit of a stall weight-wise. I don’t want to use the fact that I’m going for surgery to become an excuse to eat, but it’s working that way. I need to buckle down, freaking stop baking, and get back to my variety of normal.

It’s really easy to say that I’m baking for the family, that I don’t want them to be without good food just because I can’t eat it. But really – would it hurt them to not have the homemade bread for a while? Or to go to 7-11 and buy hamburger buns. Of course not- and they wouldn’t mind. I’m the one who bakes it, and I do it because it smells good in the house and even knowing that bread is my downfall, I want it.

Is there a 12 step program for breadaholics? helpless

The screaming started at 7:03.

That was the precise moment when the demon trapped in my innocuous Samsung tablet reared it’s warbling head and screeched me out of a tranquil sleep. With nerves jangled and envious glances at the fuzzball, who, having just come home from night shift, simply humphed and rolled over, I made the first mistake of the day, I put my feet on the floor.

Okay, here we go. Feet on the floor. Push up, grab at the dresser, not in itself a good plan as last week’s laundry is still piled there. Wobbling to an upright and vertical position, I take my morning walk down the hall. Oh, fricative! I dropped something.

Knees bend. Knees, I said bend! Damnit joints, you aren’t listening again! Lock knees, grab sink, bend over while doing my famous Weebles imitation. Lean and back, lean and back, lean and GRAB, and I’ve got it!

Slowly unlock knees, move weight to heels, relax frame and beeeennnndddd…

The screaming started at 7:09.