Um, hi…. remember me?
Look, let’s cut to the chase. I’ve been negligent with my blogging and commenting lately. My excuse is that I’ve been sick and whiny and, well, no one wants to read that crap.
So, this is a quick post to let you know that I’m still around. I’m still reading you and I’ll be back as soon as I get over this swine flu black death sinus infection.
xxoo
Filed under complaining | Comments (6)Blerg
I’m getting the results of my BRCA test back today.
The doctors can’t find a reason for my abdominal pain.
I have to go into work an hour after my genetics meeting.
Yes, that was horrible planning on my part.
I’m going to spend the morning playing with my baby girl and shopping at Target.
I miss you guys.
Filed under BRCA | Comments (10)I’m One Big Mental Glitch.
First, thank you all for the sympathetic/empathetic (I can never remember which is the correct term) comments about The Hernia. I went ahead and made an appointment with my surgeon for tomorrow morning. I’m quite unhappy about the horrible testing I will most assuredly have to endure, the surgery itself, the recovery time, the lack of paid time off from my job for said recovery time, and the expense. However, I’m allowing myself a weak glimmer of hope in the form of a tummy tuck at the same time. I know this is futile and someone will most likely end up in tears, but for now it feels good to hope.
Now, on to the real topic of today’s post: Prettiness. How do you know if you have it? Sub-topic: Flirting. How do you know when it’s happening to you?
I don’t ever remember being told I was pretty as a child. Let that sink in for a moment. Never once did my mother tell me I was pretty or beautiful. (Before you think poorly of her, let me excuse her behavior by telling you she was abused by her father as a young girl and had many mental glitches with parenthood because of that abuse.) As I moved into the notoriously awkward teen years, I had plenty of boyfriends who told me I was pretty, but for some reason, if my mom didn’t think I was pretty then I just wasn’t.
I think it’s because we’re conditioned with that stupid phrase about someone having a “face only a mother could love.” As a mother, you see the best in your child. Of course you think they’re pretty or handsome. And smart, too! I tell Maddie she’s pretty and smart at least once a day. It’s not something I do intentionally. I just think she IS pretty and smart. (Also an asshole, but that’s another post.)
So, in my mind if my own mother didn’t think I was pretty (I have no idea what she thought, only that she never said it. Which equals “thought” in my head.) then I must not be pretty. I’ve never thought I was ugly. I even find my individual facial features attractive as sums of the whole. It’s the whole that gives me trouble.
Ok, are you still with me? There’s a point to all of this, I promise.
Now that I’ve lost weight and am now within the range of “normal” sized women, I find that I’m getting more attention from men. Not outwardly sexual attention. Just regular attention. More men strike up conversations with me. Men that I work with who talked to me when I was fat talk to me a little more now. Or they talk about different things. It’s weird. It’s like all of the sudden I’ve become a worthwhile diversion in their eyes.
This leads us to the sub-topic of flirting. When a man flirts with a very obese woman, it’s safe. Both parties involved are aware that it’s meaningless because men don’t find fat women attractive. Right? (Regardless of whether or not that’s the truth, that’s what most fat women believe.) Now, it seems as though I get flirted with a lot more than I used to. Or maybe I don’t. One of the things I worry about is not being able to recognize flirting anymore. I mean, what if I’m not being flirted with any more than I used to? What if I just assume it’s flirting because I’m not fat anymore? What if I’m not fat but I’m ugly so the flirting is still meaningless? Who cares if it’s meaningless because I’m married so it’s ALL meaningless. GAH!!!
(Also, if I am being flirted with more often, that makes me mad. I’m the same person I was when I was fat. If I’m “worthy” of your attention now, than I should’ve been a year ago, too.!) (But, you know what? I’m not the same person I was when I was fat. I’m more outgoing, I’m more confident. I’m less obsequious. I guess that makes my mad-on irrelevant.)
Not only are there significant physical changes that come along with losing a massive amount of weight, but there’s a boatload of mental hang-ups, too. I can’t have sugar AND I don’t know if I’m pretty. I can’t eat bread AND Wait? Was that flirting? I’m lactose intolerant AND I’m suspicious of male attention.
Like I needed more mental glitches. *sigh*
Filed under confessional, WLS | Comments (8)Drugs are bad, mmmkay?
So, I spent most of last night in the emergency room. Around 6:15, I started getting some stabbing pain in my upper abdomen, right under my sternum. A half an hour went by and the pain intensified. Since I was at work, I didn’t want to make a scene. I shuffled over to the break room and called Gerald. He told me to go to the ER and that he and Maddie would meet me there. Well, I don’t know about you, but my personal version of hell is entertaining a toddler in the ER well after her bedtime. So, I nipped that plan in the bud and asked my boss/friend to take me to the hospital. Luckily, I work near the hospital where I had my gastric bypass, so I felt comfortable that they had experience dealing with post-op bypass patients.
I got there at 7:00 and was in a room by 8:00. They gave me some pain meds that didn’t work, so then they gave me morphine which also didn’t work. I had X-rays to check for a bowel obstruction and they came back clean. The pain got so bad that I broke out in a cold sweat, then my lips and hands started tingling and I passed out right in my hospital bed. Thank goodness the nurse was in the room with me. They gave me a second dose of morphine and a shot of a drug called Bentyl. In 10 minutes, the pain was a horrible memory. A couple of hours went by and then I had a CT scan. I went back to my room and watched late-night TV and texted Gerald with updates and plastered twitter with drug-induced misspelled tweets. At 1:00am, the doctor came in to tell me that the CT scan showed an internal hernia, most likely involving my colon. Apparently, hernias are one of the most common “complications” following gastric bypass. “Complications” in that it happens after the bypass, but isn’t caused by the surgery itself. Rapid, massive weight loss (like 105lbs in 8.5 months) results in loss of supportive fat in the abdomen and often results in a hernia.
They gave me the a prescription for the pill from of Bentyl and told me to make an appointment with my bypass surgeon. You know, because I want to have ANOTHER damned surgery. This will be three in 9 months. That’s ridiculous. I’m avoiding making the appointment and probably won’t do it at all until the prescription runs out and the pain comes back. I just can’t deal with another surgery. Not emotionally and certainly not financially. We’re still paying out $3000 on my bypass and $2300 on my gallbladder removal.
Gerald commented last night that I certainly am not the poster-child for gastric bypass success. I know things could be much, much worse, but this pretty much sucks. I’m not skinny enough for all this trouble to be worth it.
Filed under complaining, WLS | Comments (17)
