Stop the Freakin’ Presses!!!

I decided to take a tour of my closet this afternoon. I haven’t lost any weight this week and I was feeling kinda bummed. I thought maybe trying on some clothes that used to be too small might make me feel better, you know?

I pulled out a pair of jeans that I last wore Christmas of 2004. As I shook them out, I knew they were going to be too small. They’re two sizes smaller than I was before surgery. I guess I started with these jeans out of some sick desire to punish myself for not losing anything this week. As I was pulling them up, I was thinking, “These are never going to fit. Maybe in another month, though.”

You know what’s coming, right?

They fit. Completely and totally fit. Not even “lie down on the bed and stop breathing so you can get them zipped” fit. Comfortably fit. I can sit and still breathe, even.

I got tears in my eyes, people. I’m really doing this. It’s really happening. I’m going to be skinny. HOT DAMN!

Fun Fact Friday: This-Is-Getting-Harder-And-Harder Edition

* I used to have my tragus pierced on both ears. I had to have a CT scan and had to take them out a month after getting them. I never could get them back in, so they closed. I want to have them re-pierced.

* I’ve never broken a bone. I have had stitches eight times, though.

* I have extremely crooked pinkies.

* I have an irrational fear of june bugs.

* My favorite Disney movie is The Jungle Book.

* I was VERY disappointed in Breaking Dawn.

* My ceiling fans need to be dusted in the worst way, but I just can’t seem to work up the energy to care.

* Gerald and I are going to spend four whole days away from Maddie in two weeks. We’re going to San Antonio for a conference and Maddie’s staying with my in-laws. She’s going to have a blast. We probably will, too.

* I went to the gym yesterday for the first time since my surgery. I expected it to be hellacious, but it totally wasn’t. It was easier than before the surgery, which really surprised me. After all, I am living on less than 500 calories a day. I only did 10 minutes on the treadmill, per my surgeon’s instructions, but I’m still proud. I plan to go back today and do it again.

* In October, I’m going to NYC for the first time ever. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it!

ABC

My daughter is obsessed with the alphabet. Particularly the letter B. I hear “B! B! B! B!” a million times a day.

She also points to the words in books and pretends to name the letters. It’s so cute I think my head might explode.

Thanks

I appreciate your advice on the PiF situation. I didn’t want to ruin the spirit of the contest by sending something when I didn’t really win anything. But, you’ve convinced me that I wouldn’t be messing it up, just doing something nice for someone. And the world certainly needs more of that, doesn’t it?

PiF Ettiquette Question

Hypothetically speaking, someone was told they won a PiF contest all those weeks ago. This was the second or third contest this person won, so she decided to just pick another random person from her original contest. With me so far? This girl emailed the new winner and told her all about it and got the stuff to put into the package.

Well, then something, like maybe a surgery or something, came up and she totally forgot to mail the package. AND THEN, she never heard back from the person who’s contest she won. She has a feeling she’s never going to see that package. No big. BUT, does she still send the package to her winner, even though she’s not really paying anything forward? And it’s been like a month?

Help a sister out, willya. You know, hypothetically, that is.

My Very Big Girl

Today was Maddie’s 18 month checkup. Technically, she’ll be 19 months old in a week, but it’s hard to get a well-baby appt with her pediatrician.

Anywho, my girl is growing like a weed! She grew THREE INCHES since her 15 month appointment. (Which she had at 16 months. Notice a trend?) She’s 33 inches tall and weighs 24 lbs. (I’ve lost an entire Maddie. Can you believe that shit??) She’s in the 75th percentile for height and just under the 50th for weight. My 99th percentile roly poly fat baby is long gone. *sad sigh*

She had one shot, but all was forgiven as soon as the nurse handed her a sugar-free sucker and a sticker. She’s easily bought, what can I say? She had a completely clean bill of health and we don’t have to go back for six months. That kind of threw me for a second. I was all “Six months? Really?” I’d gotten kinda used to the every three month schedule.

A year and a half into this motherhood gig, I feel like I’ve finally gotten the hang of it. Sure, there are days when I want to run away to Mexico and find a pool boy named Paulo, but they’re few and far between. Mostly.

Easy Schmeasy

Alright, let’s address the folks out there that consider bariatric surgery to be “the easy way out.” Personally, I’ve not had anyone utter those words to my face, but I hear them all the time from other post-ops.

First of all, it took me more than a year to complete the process. I went to the seminar in June of 2007, remember? That’s hardly a rash decision, you know. Then there’s the fact that nothing about this is easy. The surgery was painful to recover from physically, it’s emotionally draining, and fraught with struggles. The ONLY thing about this that’s easy is the fact that I cannot give up. It’s simply not an option.

In the past, whenever a diet or “lifestyle change” got too boring or difficult, I just quit. Then, I’d gain all my weight back, plus some. This time, there’s no way that’s going to happen. I sure as hell didn’t have a $45,000 surgery to quit when it got too hard. (Which would have been the third day after the surgery, fyi.)

This is hard work. I can’t stop for fast food when I’m out running errands. I always have to plan. I can’t have so many things that I love and that have given my comfort for so many years. I can’t eat dairy anymore at all. Period. The list of things I can’t have is five miles long. It takes a lot of mental strength to deal with that. I could very easily be sitting in the corner, crying and having a pity party.

But I’m not. Why? Because I needed this surgery. There was no way in hell I’d have done all this shit voluntarily. I needed forced behavior modification. I needed to have my options taken away from me. Those WW points that let you have whatever you want as long as you count it? I still ate like crap and expected to lose weight. I guess I though that if I ate crappy food, but less of it, that’d be ok. *snort* Not likely, huh, Jess?

What I’m saying is that this surgery isn’t easy. But it IS a fantastic tool that can be used to completely overhaul your diet and the way you think of food. I used to be a food addict, and now, I’ve got a restraining order.

Look at me expanding my horizons!

Gerald, Maddie and I ate fish for dinner tonight. On purpose, even.

Those of you who don’t know me in real life aren’t really going to understand the importance of this event. Let me try and explain. I hate fish. HATE. Actually, not just fish. All seafood. Anything that swims. It makes me want to rip out my tongue in order to never have to taste it again.

But, when you have to eat 50 -80 grams of protein every day, you start to run out of chicken recipes REAL QUICK. So, I got some tilapia and we had that and roasted cauliflower for dinner. I not only ate the tilapia, but I didn’t mind it at all. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I enjoyed it, but I didn’t hate it.

I’m so proud of myself for trying new things. Instead of sitting around, mourning the loss of the foods I can’t eat anymore, I’m finding new things to like. Healthy things, even.

I can hardly believe all the changes I’ve gone through in just one short month.

P.S. – I’m feeling MUCH better today. No problems at all. I’m hoping things are all settled with my pouch stomach. YAY!

Attention Internets:

I have lost 25 lbs.

I wore an outfit today that I wore FIVE years ago when I met Gerald. I haven’t worn it in four years.

You may now continue with your day.

Not-Very-Fun-At-All Fact Friday

Upper GI was just as horrific as I’d feared. AND it didn’t show anything.

That means I’m now sitting here waiting for my surgeon to call and tell me either more testing is coming or to suck it up and live with it.

Hurrah.