tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56414220252865165542024-03-12T18:01:00.680-05:00Slimming Down to Sexy...Eventuallyhealthy is sexy....I'm getting there....Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.comBlogger306125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-52372828808872954592024-01-01T09:29:00.000-06:002024-01-01T09:29:07.859-06:00let us see what we can accomplish when we actually try, shall we? <p> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Maaaaannnnnnn…. 2023 was really something, am I right?!?! In some ways, this year was so damn fantastic - and in others… lets just say there are some clear opportunities for improvement!</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e144333f-7fff-fb29-43dc-9bc1d49ed761"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TL2Xa-P1Y5JR3Wo1MbxSB7mL2mvOy22s3mP_5sCSknZk3gLanPDN2hkJ_8_YMlCM4tR2ezDJztoVWCGfdYGOK9Xce11umjaSqRywKoBztBDcRzDG9FyIdIejWQPmhv9g6vTxTIxsDMDHyOcDiX842XxUGplEikKpBZzIeSpw9z0b_nnWRmLIaqLDH18/s2080/IMG_8053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2080" data-original-width="1290" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TL2Xa-P1Y5JR3Wo1MbxSB7mL2mvOy22s3mP_5sCSknZk3gLanPDN2hkJ_8_YMlCM4tR2ezDJztoVWCGfdYGOK9Xce11umjaSqRywKoBztBDcRzDG9FyIdIejWQPmhv9g6vTxTIxsDMDHyOcDiX842XxUGplEikKpBZzIeSpw9z0b_nnWRmLIaqLDH18/s320/IMG_8053.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />I set myself a goal at the beginning of the year - - to leave the state of MN at least once per month. What I learned was - I can stick to my goals… when they’re fun! I got to experience some truly great things and places. I got to see a bunch of new places - and things that it was really important for me to be a part of (my oldest niece’s last tournament with her club team in CA, and my nephew’s team win their division at the Cal Ripken Experience in SC)</span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I’ve set a whole bunch of other goals that I didn’t do so well with. Most of them relating to my physical health & wellbeing. At some point, that motivation that had been with me since my WLS in 2016 packed up all of it’s shit, and split. Vanished without a trace - leaving me to wonder if the last 6 years had been an aberration. Had I imagined that working out used to be automatic? Something I did without question. I planned it around whatever other plans I had to make sure I got it in. Instead - in 2023 I couldn’t seem to persuade myself to peel my ass off the couch! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I allowed myself to make any and every excuse to not show up. Some actual - some exaggerated. At the time I didn’t really see it that way - - but you know how hindsight makes all of the things clear…. The reality is - yes, my bod is more sore. My knees and hips are PISSED a lot of the time. But is there a chance that the complete lack of movement is making it a larger issue? I’m guessing there is. Picking up some extra LBs probably isn’t helping either. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You guys know I’m an over-sharer, right? Not a whole lot has gone on in the last 7 years that I haven’t been pretty open about. But the one area I have somewhat kept to myself is my personal life. That is the one area of my life that I don’t usually really feel the need to broadcast on social media. Well - that may be misleading. It’s not like there’s been much to share! Lol I go on dating apps - become disgusted with humans (at least the male ones that cross my path) - take a break. Repeat, repeat, repeat. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The reason I am bringing it up is that I have allowed this emotionally exhausting cycle to become an unacceptable distraction this year. To the point that I have made it a part of my goals/resolutions for the year. To allow myself to (hopefully) remove “dudes” from my excuse list: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /><br /></span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; padding-inline-start: 48px;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">I have started working with a therapist. NO - not only because of my relationship challenges, although it is a consistent topic during our sessions. I figured it sure couldn’t hurt to just talk to someone to provide some guidance. I think most of us could use some help/support - and finally decided to start back in August.</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">My picker is broken. Completely broken. So instead of continuing to do the same shit, and expect everything to just magically work out, I am taking a break from dating apps for 2024. I know, I know. At my big age - is this a good idea? I had that thought myself… should I really sacrifice an entire year, as old as I am? But I quickly reframed that thought to: I’m not sacrificing a year - I’m INVESTING in myself for this year. Be better. Attract better. Experience better. RIght? RIGHT. </span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">I used to be really fucking content all on my own. I don’t know if you guys have gathered this or not - but I am a damn delight! Lol. I did my own thing, dudes be damned! Then I was in a relationship for nearly a year - and realized I really liked having someone around. I’ve been attempting to recreate that - - companionship & affection? I think that’s probably the best way to describe what I’ve been looking for - - for the last couple of years, and the shit isn’t working. So I am using this year to more fully focus on my damn self. What I enjoy doing. What I want to see & do. How I want to spend my time. What’s important to me. Where I want to be. How I want to grow. What I want from this wonderful thing called life. A complete refocus on self-love. </span></p></li></ul><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">That’s probably enough about that - - but I felt it was something I wanted to share. It is important to me - and will be a constant work in progress - so is a part of the overall plan for the year. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LEXmHx3ujbCVGUu6UEKGS9-zOPtsAaNi2OK4ONda6R8bS4a_pToMbMrjpxDZX39rdWvMZqu_MR-8kvgf0cO9PoS4mumnU9o5Rg45pgLm6FNWSwibprcODjQLiCsDmVw4AbBFsmUBavrUipHt1RuQbauwJBP2mhWciu2N_DBNrVd-Zf51Cx9ULPbWzlc/s5329/IMG_8078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5329" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LEXmHx3ujbCVGUu6UEKGS9-zOPtsAaNi2OK4ONda6R8bS4a_pToMbMrjpxDZX39rdWvMZqu_MR-8kvgf0cO9PoS4mumnU9o5Rg45pgLm6FNWSwibprcODjQLiCsDmVw4AbBFsmUBavrUipHt1RuQbauwJBP2mhWciu2N_DBNrVd-Zf51Cx9ULPbWzlc/s320/IMG_8078.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Tracking Chart 💗</td></tr></tbody></table><br />What else is part of the plan, you ask? Well - I’m sure you can guess this - - GET MY PHYSICAL HEALTH BACK IN ORDER!!!!! I think I kept expecting to be in the same place I was when I was working out 5-6 times a week consistently - - and then would be shocked and pissed off when I wasn’t. What kind of moronic logic is that!??! I would like to thank said therapist for pointing out that it was really fucking hard when I started working out after my surgery. It wasn’t easy. I wasn’t in shape because I wanted to be - - I had to GET into decent shape. And since I’ve basically just took an entire year (or maybe even more if we’re being honest about it) off - I really am basically starting over. I’m not going to be able to do all of the shit I could do before. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to be REALLY fucking uncomfortable sometimes. That really fucking sucks to admit - - but it’s reality. So we’re going to rebuild this shit.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I’ll be starting a new </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">30 Out of 33: Moderately Inconvenient </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">on January 1st, and I’m actually going to do it this time. I am even taking it back to Kindergarten with a chart and stickers and shit! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To add some additional motivation - - I have a couple of trips planned later this year that I’d really like to do plenty of walking & hiking - - so getting myself back in shape is really important to me. And I’m giving myself some time to get there - - so it is absolutely something I can accomplish. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was thinking I should have done “invest in me in 2023” but I missed it - - but we aren’t looking back any longer. We’re not going to continue to shoulda/coulda/woulda…. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">We’re going to “Invest in me a whole lot more in 2024”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div>Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-35752100792263140442020-01-19T16:19:00.000-06:002020-01-19T16:19:54.050-06:00FUPA Removed...sort of... : one year laterI've been hesitant to write this post. See....I tend to vomit up whatever I'm feeling onto the page, and then hit post and walk away. I don't really edit. I don't concern myself with being PC - as this is my experience, told from my point of view - so I figure I might as well be honest about it.<br />
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But the concern I have with this method, regarding this topic, is that I'm going to come off as ungrateful. Ungrateful for the opportunity to have this surgery done. Ungrateful for all of you supporting me and keeping me motivated through it. And mostly that I'd seem ungrateful to my family who put their lives on hold to take care of me, and do all my chores, and make sure I was taken care of...for WEEKS. I am so absolutely appreciative for all of that - - and I don't ever want there to be confusion about that.<br />
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That being said - pretty much all other aspects of my first skin removal surgery - - my Circumferential Body Lift (aka: FUPA removal) - - have me going through a ton of emotions. Actually - who am I kidding - - it has me experiencing ALL the emotions. I looked them up - apparently humans have 7. So I experience even more than these emotions - - because I feel a whole lot more than 7 things.<br />
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I experience happiness and surprise... Some awe... A little pride thrown in for good measure - when I see that I have a flat-ish stomach. It's not perfectly flat. There is still extra skin there (to be expected, within reason) - so thankfully I don't need to feel compelled to strive for a 6 pack, as that shit just is not happening no matter what I do. But for the first time in my life, when I look down, I don't see my stomach/FUPA sticking out. It feels pretty frickin sweet. So there is good. About 50% of it is good.<br />
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But then I realized a couple of months ago that I don't really look at my body...but now it is not for the same reasons I used to avoid looking. Before I was just so big, that if I looked...I mean REALLY LOOKED... I likely wouldn't have left the house. I NEVER would have changed in a locker room. I wouldn't have let anyone near me without being 100% fully covered.<br />
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This is different. This is avoidance, due to the other emotions: Anger, Disgust, Sadness, Fear & Contempt. I'm still using not registering my body as a defense mechanism - - but for very different reasons. Every time I look at the area of my body lift - at the scar line, and the areas surrounding it, I typically experience one of these emotions.<br />
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Yes - of course there are times where I look and I'm still pretty damn jazzed - - especially when I finally observed how light my scar lines were getting. Who knows how long they've been this light - - because I don't recall even seeing them for a long period before then.<br />
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But the overwhelming majority of the time, I'm some varied version of pissed.<br />
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I'm still so incredibly mad that my surgeon didn't tell me he was in over his head. That he put me under, without a solid plan of how he was going to execute this surgery - ALL of this surgery, not the parts he could get done within his allotted time. What a fucking coward. To put me through the surgery, and that recovery, without getting everything done is just unacceptable. Or maybe he's just so incompetent he<i> thinks</i> he did get everything done. Maybe he legitimately things a woman wants to have all of the loose skin/fatty tissue left on her lady biz....that we desire to be able to tap one side and have it ripple like a water bed? Maybe he thinks I wanted my crotch to be crooked. SERIOUSLY CROOKED because he just fucking left it untouched during the surgery. I honestly cannot even begin to guess what the hell he did to my ass...but I can assure you it looks worse. WHAT. THE.FUCK. WAS. HE. DOING?!??!?!<br />
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But more frequent than my overwhelming contempt for him, and what I perceive to be completely unethical practices, is the anger I have at myself. I chose him. I met with other surgeons - one who has proven to be an absolute gem (used for my 2nd surgery) - - and I chose THIS GUY!??!???! My brain allowed me to pick someone who couldn't be bothered to proof read his after-care instructions - not once, but twice!??!!?!? I picked a guy who had no idea how to deal with my particular needs, and wasn't professional enough to just admit it. I let this guy do the most invasive thing I've ever had done - with apparently no plan/no idea how long it would actually take him. He had me in there MUCH longer than he said he would - and still didn't finish the job. And then post-surgery when I'd try to ask him about it, he'd completely brush me off. What an unprofessional asshole.<br />
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I am genuinely more self-conscious of my body now than I was before. Before I was just a really, really, big gal - - but it was what it was. No big surprises. Now - with clothes on - you expect one thing, but then SURPRISE! It's a crooked waterbed crotch and a misshapen rear end! When I sit it looks like I have a pillow stuck in my pants at my crotch/upper thighs because of all the extra skin he left. And every time I see it, I get pissed off....<br />
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So the anniversary of this surgery brought up a bunch of shit for me - - I know, I know...after this swearing rant, you guys already knew that. It's made me shut myself off more than usual. Most days I unconsciously avoid looking at the areas that trigger me. Some days I forget, and then I have to have a talk with myself. When I look at my lap I have to have a talk with myself. On those pissed off days I have to end my pep talk with "fuck it - - you could have died"...because honestly I can't believe something significant didn't happen with the amount of walking that moron had me doing after my surgery...<br />
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So like I said - - I'm about 50/50. Grateful I got to get most of that albatrose (all of that extra skin) off me....but so disappointed in who I let do it.<br />
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Like with all of use & with all things, I'm going to need to buck the fuck up....and I will. But I'm also allowing myself some time to feel what I'm going to feel about it....<br />
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Looking at these pictures actually makes me a little proud of how far I've come - - even the one that looks like my asscrack goes up to my middle back, unless I pull my skin apart. What the hell is that about!??! The things I don't notice, because I don't look that closely....<br />
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<br />Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-432443363444112522019-07-14T20:06:00.000-05:002019-07-15T12:10:07.080-05:00The Schedule<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Over the last threeish years, the positive improvements to my life are seriously way too many to track. Although this new life I lead has become the norm - - so commonplace I rarely recognize it as anything that hasn't been my existence from the start. I don't want that to sound like I'm not grateful for the changes I've experienced....I do still have random little moments where I think back to how it<i> used</i> to feel to do whatever it is I'm doing at the time. Or realized it was not so long ago that there is literally not one chance I could have done what I'm currently able to do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But I am realizing also that all of this positive has also come with what can, at least at times, feels like a negative. My schedule. Or more accurately, my intense need to stick to my schedule. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I live my life by a series of alarms. A set of parameters that I've adjusted over the last few years, but now cling to like a life-line. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">People that have had the type of surgery that I've had (Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy) are told to wait 30 minutes before eating/drinking - - so basically when I finish my meal, I set an alarm for 30 minutes, and that's when I can drink. I do the same when I finish drinking - - a 30 minute alarm is set, and then I can eat. Now, there are times where I don't follow this to a T, but those are typically infrequent - and there is<i> usually</i> a reason beyond: I need to shove food in my mouth this second! And that is exactly why I continue to follow the 30 minute rule all of these years later. I feel as though it helps avoid what could become a lot of mindless snacking. So this portion of my schedule seems pretty required/legitimate, would you agree? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here's where things can get a little more tricky. I am consistently in bed between 8:30-9:30pm almost every night. That's not just school nights - - that's EVERY night. But how can this be when you're such a vibrant, young, single woman out on the prowl, you ask?!?! The answer is - I'm really only one of those things...I have moments where I think trying to pull off a vibrant woman on the prowl would be fun...but then I get tired, and I go to bed. But seriously - - I am certain sleep is at least partly responsible for the fact that I've been very successful since my weightloss surgery. I am also certain it is a huge part of why I haven't had the plague (no major cold/flu) for the last couple of years. I'm crazy diligent about my sleep - - so if you want me to attempt to be social with you, we need to do it early =) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Another reason for the early to bed thing...especially on the weekends in the summer...is that I want to get my butt out and go for my walks early in the AM. As much as I trust myself, to an extent, to get out later in the day and get my workout in - - it's never a good idea to push my luck. Plus - it's an absolutely lovely way for me to start my day. I throw on my headphones and go. I'm typically just about the only one out there, so then it cuts down on the irritation I experience when other walkers/runners are so damn rude they don't even acknowledge my existence...but that's a whole other topic.... Anyway - especially after essentially sitting on my ass for the first 5 months of the year, getting back in my routine has been extremely comforting for me. As much as I still don't love working out (the weights/gym stuff), I love the result and see it's necessity. Endorphins are real, and they are my friend. Walking is my therapy. My disposition needs me to work out...for the welfare of others...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I prep and portion/weigh/measure out 95% of what I eat (at least). I eat the same things over, and over, and over. Every "work" night, I get everything prepped and ready for the next day so I can just grab it and go. I spend a reasonable amount of time most weekends prepping food for the week. No excuses. When I try to cut corners on this process, it inevitably comes back and bites me in the ass. It stresses me out, and I don't like it - - so I've absolutely recognized its benefit. I am no longer willing to skip this and "wing" it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think a lot of what drives this is, unfortunately, fear. Since my surgery I've had a couple of scary moments (I blacked out with my niece at the MoA - I stayed upright, but it scared the hell out of both of us, I think. Then there was the morning I fell on my face twice when I was getting ready for work - - no one ever could figure out why that was) so I make sure I eat and drink...often. On a schedule, if you will. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My fear is also based on the fact that I've failed every other attempt to lose weight. That was 41 years worth of trials and failures. That's a lot of damn time to just forget! And as much as I trust myself more now - - it took about 2 years post-surgery to finally believe that I could do this, and I would stick to it - - I still have moments where I'm just waiting for it to all fall apart. I trust myself to stick with it, but I'm still very conscious of the fact that it could all go to shit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So I stick to my schedule. At times I'm extremely militant about it. It is the thing that helps me continue to believe I can stick with this long term. It makes me feel in control, and it has been working, so I continue to use it. I may miss out on some things - but what I've gained, to me, is absolutely worth it. The volume of things I'm able to do now, the level at which I can consistently participate in my life, seems like a very acceptable tradeoff. </span>Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-80887642273453116482019-04-14T15:14:00.000-05:002019-04-14T15:14:13.612-05:00Removing All the Skin // Surgery IIAfter all of the hoopla surrounding FUPA removal back in January, it's safe to say that surgery number 2 has definitely snuck up on me. After finding out Dr Camp was a complete hack, and having to process that information. After searching for a new surgeon, and picking one. After going back to the gym and realizing how quickly things can get SO HARD again. After all of that...I finally looked up and realized my 2nd surgery is in less than 2 weeks!<br />
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Surgery 2 consists of: Boob Installation / Wing Chop / Flap Removal<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I no longer have my boobs...but I have the bags they came in...</td></tr>
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On Thursday my sister drove my mom & I through the most recent April MN blizzard to my pre-op appointment with Dr Landis. </div>
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We discussed my boobs...or lack thereof... and the plan for putting them back where they belong - - or at least a hell of a lot closer than they currently are.<br />
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As you can see by the pictures, my boobs are non-existent. They lay flat like pancakes - - although I would rather refer to them as my "crepes"... you know - fancy pancakes!<br />
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We're somewhat limited as to how high they can be moved because the base of my breast (the area where the bottom of my boob meets the rest of my body) is not something that can really be adjusted by much. Yes - there is some fancy medical term for this intersection - but I cannot, for the life of me, remember what it's called.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO63jarnu9cuwTS2EdxRD9pQoWMMLnXN9vz7fARbjdnefzQu7KQstmqBiBWnwzMrXsH8VDPSJSDi9zAAYR86pN1Yn45aVcqK1ZJYe9N0sVzAC_rKnZXJr26WmuzYzn2iqWIHskmsXa05c/s1600/boobs3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO63jarnu9cuwTS2EdxRD9pQoWMMLnXN9vz7fARbjdnefzQu7KQstmqBiBWnwzMrXsH8VDPSJSDi9zAAYR86pN1Yn45aVcqK1ZJYe9N0sVzAC_rKnZXJr26WmuzYzn2iqWIHskmsXa05c/s400/boobs3.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
My poor boobs, which I have to lift up and set into any bra I wear, are just so sad. The skin is all stretched out. There is just nothing to them anymore! I swear my pectoral muscles stick out further than my damn boobs!<br />
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But anyway….Dr L is going to lift these bad boys up - -<br />
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The way I understand it - -the nips will basically be cut around...<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> there will be an incision along the base of each boob, and then up to the nipple area on each breast. After putting the implant in, covering with my own tissue and moving the nips north a bit - - any additional loose skin will be folded together with the scar/seem up from the bottom of my breast to the nipple area. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">How all of that is going to be done without me being in some pretty significant discomfort, I do not know. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqVyGHVlxsuQw0Uer36TXGnKLjDiFO5vLzb1h7ssYThjHdrzoiVoEYLmmkKV-vVV3oRztEh8U496MlfCZgmPu8SP96C4xv65svteMwoF1QNTNPVKfI6cue1rDJH3gUBuUvv2XwVxe2pQ/s1600/flaps2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqVyGHVlxsuQw0Uer36TXGnKLjDiFO5vLzb1h7ssYThjHdrzoiVoEYLmmkKV-vVV3oRztEh8U496MlfCZgmPu8SP96C4xv65svteMwoF1QNTNPVKfI6cue1rDJH3gUBuUvv2XwVxe2pQ/s400/flaps2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqVyGHVlxsuQw0Uer36TXGnKLjDiFO5vLzb1h7ssYThjHdrzoiVoEYLmmkKV-vVV3oRztEh8U496MlfCZgmPu8SP96C4xv65svteMwoF1QNTNPVKfI6cue1rDJH3gUBuUvv2XwVxe2pQ/s1600/flaps2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I believe the plan is to also fold these flaps on the side of my body (located under my armpits) into my new boobs as well...extra filler, you know. </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I'll then have a scar coming down from my armpit where the these lovely scrotum looking sacks are currently hanging out.</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">That may seem like a ridiculous way to describe them - - but it's pretty accurate.... my loose arm skin tends to have a very similar aesthetic when at certain angles. </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I am certain that waking up with boobs is going to be by far the weirdest part of this whole process... it has been like 3 years since my boobs packed their shit and left...it's been even longer since they were anywhere near where they were supposed to be... so this is going to be SO WEIRD!!!</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Here's to never again having to dig my boobs out of my armpits!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rG-ypgnld4exUpMRtH7A6VuRGV2gXs31uRu4ZnlWjseufR1wso0s1ZFLCIhsnllK-mzmJytsqbCQGh3PD8v-zQDTY1O8BN6SjvWXYzqNQkIQRal784u9M-n8SiMoP2bMSjdtCylvgP4/s1600/arm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rG-ypgnld4exUpMRtH7A6VuRGV2gXs31uRu4ZnlWjseufR1wso0s1ZFLCIhsnllK-mzmJytsqbCQGh3PD8v-zQDTY1O8BN6SjvWXYzqNQkIQRal784u9M-n8SiMoP2bMSjdtCylvgP4/s400/arm.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I will also be having a brachioplasty performed. That's fancy talk for removing these flapping wings that are currently monopolizing my upper arms! </span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Of all of the things I've had/am having done, this is the one I'm the most excited about!</span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">These damn things just keep getting in the way! Although I have been wearing tank tops the last couple of summers - - because, you know...when the sun's out, loose flabby guns out - - it will be nice to not have to be concerned with accidentally slapping someone in the face with my loose arm flub while cheering on my nieces. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">When I'm at the gym, I can constantly see/feel them swinging around, or just hanging out of my shirt, while I try to do whatever insane routine Scott has assigned that day. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Not to mention to perilous task of trying to shave my armpits with all this loose flesh! Honestly - how I haven't severely cut myself is completely beyond me! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">And lets be honest...I've never been a girl with decent arm muscles. I was athletic back in the day - I was strong - but I've always been a big girl, and weight lifting wasn't something that was really done by the ladies back in the day (or at least my day...back 2343 years ago)...so this is the first time in my life I might actually have some muscles in there! I'd like to see what is buried in all that skin! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">So this is it...I'm down to less than 2 weeks before I go under the knife...again. I'm feeling confident in my new surgeon and his team. It sounds like I'll have fewer restrictions on me post-surgery, and I don't have to wait a week to shower!! It's a gift for everyone! </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">We head to the surgery center on Friday, April 26th at 6am Surgery is set to start at 7. I'm sure we'll get my sister hooked up to keep everyone updated on that day. </span><span style="background-color: white;">The only big question remaining is...does this surgery center have those delicious graham crackers for me in recovery? </span>Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-66980516198339147072019-03-27T12:03:00.001-05:002019-03-27T12:03:39.167-05:00My Brain vs Plastic Surgery : Part III'm struggling here, guys. I try to keep the negative to a minimum. I operate in a fairly content/happy place most of the time these days - - but I am having a really hard time forgiving myself for my abysmal decision regarding my first surgeon. I am mad at myself for choosing him - for putting "he seems pretty laid back & I like his cowboy boots" and "I can save a few bucks" over the important shit, like "he's actually worked with people with a lot of skin to remove" and "he knows what the fuck he's doing". I didn't ask nearly enough questions. I didn't ask the <i>right</i> questions. I didn't put in enough work to insure I was going to have the best experience, and results. I chose someone who couldn't even be bothered to proofread their after-care instructions! It is irking my ass to no end that I'm still bothered by this, but telling myself to let it go is proving much easier than actually doing it. I feel like I've kind of closed myself off from people because I'm still cranky/sad/pissed/annoyed by this whole experience.<br />
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I'm hopeful the next month will provide the time I need to "get over it". I'd like to try to regain some of the excitement I had prior to my last surgery, before all the pissed offness began..... I'd like to be pumped to see what my body is going to look like when this excess flab is removed, instead of feeling complete indifference. I'm hopeful this disinterest is at least partially caused by the fact that this winter sucked total balls, and now that it's warming up things will improve in the "Natalie's Disposition" department. Fingers crossed, everyone.<br />
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My healing from FUPA removal is going fine - I just have one small spot on my lower left back that seems reluctant to close up. I have a few spots along my scar line that aren't as smooth as the others, but they appear to be healing. My lady-biz is a daily reminder of my error in judgement. It's saggy and crooked - seriously. The scar has a hard spot in it. There's a spot where it kind of bunched up and healed. The right side is much lower than the left - (caused by walking 2 hours a day starting the day of surgery?) contributing to the crookedness. My butt looks worse than before the surgery...I genuinely can't figure out what the hell he was doing there... But the positives are: I'm back with my trainer. I have good range of motion. My overall health is fine. I just keep reminding myself things could have been so much worse than a crooked vag.<br />
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In an effort to move on - -<br />
I have my 2nd surgery scheduled with <a href="https://www.drlandis.com/" target="_blank">Dr. George Landis</a> for Friday, April 26th. He'll be removing my wings (excess skin on my upper arms), removing my flaps (loose skin under my armpits, on my sides, and installing boobs (putting them back in the vicinity of where they go, and adding a smaller implant). He graciously agreed to provide any post-op care for my first surgery, so I was able to sever ties with boot scootin' boogie (aka: my first surgeon).<br />
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I really like him. I like his vibe - also chill, but a little more profesh. He has worked with people who have lost a lot of weight, and he gets it! When I told him I don't want to walk out with absurdly huge boobs he just nodded and told me "after people lose a lot of weight, they're just kind of done being big". BINGO! So accurately stated!<br />
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I have my pre-op session with him April 11th, where I should learn move about care and limitations after surgery, and get more instructions. I did tell him the good news for him is, if he gives me correct after-care instructions, they will be followed. Needless to say - we'll be going over instructions verbally, and as a group, to make sure we're all on the same page.<br />
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So at this point I'm just trying to get out of my own head. Trust this surgeon, who was a very close 2nd after the first round of surgeon interviews - - but when you have to pay for every cent of these procedures, the lower bill won out. I'm now fully understanding that you truly "get what you pay for"...Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-55304945903125198132019-03-10T12:28:00.000-05:002019-03-10T12:28:16.137-05:00NSV: The Closet<div>
I realized the other day that there has been another transformation that has taken place since my gastric bypass surgery. It was a little less obvious than the physical changes. Not something I am as aware of as the emotional changes. But it is a change none-the-less.</div>
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For the 5-10 years (at least) prior to April 18, 2016, I had barely used my closet. It was this area of my house that I tried to ignore. Inside it were a number of garments, ranging in sizes and colors and styles...not one thing in there that would fit. I had jeans in sizes 28, 20 & 32 - most of which wouldn't go past my knees. I had sweatshirts is sizes 2XL that hadn't fit in years. I had button up shirts and pull-over shirts with varying degrees of stretch - all in size 26/28. I had attempted to wear some of the looser, more forgiving (see also: really stretchy) shirts until the last year or so - - but they too had just been hanging there. There was a layer of dust on the top of each hanger, and the clothes hanging on them, because they hadn't been disturbed in such a long time. </div>
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My wardrobe those last few years was made up of about 10 pieces. A pair or 2 of sweatpants - I believe I was wearing size 5X right before my surgery. A few maxi-skirts, which I discovered were even more forgiving than sweatpants, in 4X that I could order online from Target. A few t-shirts - men's size 5X - in long & short sleeve varieties. 2 short sleeve/cowl neck sweaters that were big enough, and long enough, to keep all my things covered. That was it. These items, along with some outrageously sized underwear and few pairs of socks, would rotate between my body, my laundry basket and my washing machine. </div>
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If I kept these very limited number of things in the laundry basket - I didn't have to look at all of the things in my closet I could no longer fit into. I didn't have to have that particular daily reminder of my size, and the lack of options that caused. I didn't have to get slapped in the face each morning when I realized I could no longer fit in the largest sizes available at the "big girl" stores. </div>
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And so it went until I started dropping some weight...when I was like a toddler in reverse because I would grow out of clothes so fast going the other direction. I would try on those old, dust-covered options - - often waiting too long to try them on, and missing that tiny window where they actually fit. I received donations from friends and family - which was just so kind and awesome, and also something completely new! You don't exactly have a lot of people that can give you their hand-me-downs when you're damn near wearing the biggest sizes manufactured. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijPZ2fl55DWKWCSbyG_m4bo7Sc5lfZaP26Q2KhMoroDzr0lPoJ82Mn7xGWcBZBFNjKLpCV0Ho-B-pYyu59GVpQxShGy6UQ6TWGlgfRT7BUUGXM1eEyzFtWwNAB_7IY5n2wLG9WtfH7Xno/s1600/Closet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijPZ2fl55DWKWCSbyG_m4bo7Sc5lfZaP26Q2KhMoroDzr0lPoJ82Mn7xGWcBZBFNjKLpCV0Ho-B-pYyu59GVpQxShGy6UQ6TWGlgfRT7BUUGXM1eEyzFtWwNAB_7IY5n2wLG9WtfH7Xno/s400/Closet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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And just like that, I started building up an actual wardrobe. Nothing too fancy - - I'm still cheap as shit, and refuse to spend any real money on clothes until I'm done being nipped & tucked to figure out what sizes actually fit! </div>
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It dawned on me just the other morning how weird, and amazing and comforting it is to be able to have this many options. To have a closet full of clothes that actually fit! (except for that one pair of Lucky size 14 jeans...they have until June to fit, or they're out!) Everything in this room can be worn. Some may be a little bit. Some may be a little on the tight side. But all of it can be worn if I'm in the mood. For anyone that has ever been really limited on what they're able to wear, you guys will understand why I'm going to go ahead and count this as a major NSV (non-scale victory). </div>
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The changes...the amazing positives...that have come my way since deciding to have this surgery are still coming in almost 3 years later. They're physical...and emotional....and both...and neither....and I'm just so grateful for all of them. </div>
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Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-7215259532397232202019-03-03T13:01:00.001-06:002019-03-03T14:48:43.242-06:00The Breakup<div>
As I learned in the movie "Some Kind of Wonderful", trust is the basis of any relationship....</div>
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I started my search for a plastic surgeon looking for experience and knowledge of course - - but just as importantly - I was looking for someone I vibed with, and felt I could trust.</div>
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I don't think it will come as a shock to any of you that I knew next to nothing about plastic surgery...I was hopeful to find someone that would provide me with accurate expectations & options, while keeping my safety paramount. I was relying on these professionals to advise me on what to do, when to do it and how to do it - to help insure I came out of each surgery with the best results possible. </div>
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I took for granted that they would also let me know if my "exceptional case" was too much for them - - if they didn't feel as though their background or skillset was best suited to my particular needs. <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">("Exceptional case" was what Dr Camp would refer to me as any time I had a question, or issue, with the work he had done)</span> My expectation was to find someone worthy of the trust required for this process. I was going to, quite literally, put my life in their hands on more than one occasion. My expectation was that I would be given accurate information to keep me safe during my surgeries, as well as while I healed. I was counting on this person. I was trusting this person. </div>
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So when about a month ago, the surgeon I had poured all of my trust into proved that that belief in him had been an error - I was...devastated. I was hurt, sad, confused...but most of all - I was PISSED. <a href="https://slimmingdowntosexy.blogspot.com/2019/02/natalie-and-terrible-horrible-no-good.html" target="_blank">Remember that post from a few weeks back with all the swearing</a>? Let me now break down this timeline to help explain to you what brought that all about....<br />
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Friday, February 1st - -<br />
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As I eluded to in my previous post - I discovered at my 3 week checkup that I had been given completely inaccurate post-care instruction from my surgeon and his team. Not only was I given information after our first consult that advised me to take (6) 15-20 minute walks a day when it should have been <i>A WEEK</i>, but it was in the packet of post-surgery notes we went over prior to leaving the surgery center. No one bothered to proofread their instruction. That level of negligence was absolutely mindboggling to me. They initially sat looking at eachother dumbfounded - insisting that directive hadn't been in their literature. I told them I'm certain it was, as that was pretty specific info for me to have just made up. Low and behold - by the time I got back out to the car, he had found his error. No apology. No nothing. Just a text that he'd found it, and was now editing his information. <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">How? Seriously....how does that even happen?!?!? </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">It was at this same appointment that I asked to confirm our next surgery (upper body) was scheduled for March 14th, which he said was set. Later that day I received a text message that we'd been pushed for another surgery that day, and we'd have to move my date. Mind you, this is a month & a half before the surgery date - - someone else NEEDED that date so badly we got pushed? Unlikely. Guessing it was never booked, and there were no options available when he finally went to secure the date. Lying to me is not a wise move.... PLEASE NOTE: for later that we discussed my 2nd surgery face-to-face and there was no mention of an issue with that plan</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Sunday, February 3rd - - </span><br />
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Due to a vacation I already had booked, and my care team being out of town, shifting my surgery date one week in either direction would not work. We'd have to push to the end of April, after my vacation. I sent a text advising this. I was told it was probably for the best to allow more time to heal, to which I agreed.<br />
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Monday, February 4th - -<br />
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I send a text to check that the newly agreed on date for surgery was booked - April 25th. I was told it was becoming increasingly difficult to schedule on Thursday's (his set day for larger surgeries, not mine) and we've have to push to Friday, April 26th - - he'd then do my follow-up in home Saturday 4/27.<br />
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No problem. But here's where shit starts to go really, really wrong in a hurry....and the back-and-forth mile long texts begin...<br />
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He sends me a text advising that after reviewing his OR times, the one surgery we had planned will now become 2. He cited a bunch of medical blah, blah, blah - - but regardless:<i> how in the hell did he not know this at our first consultation? Or last Friday while I was there? Or really any time prior to now? </i></div>
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At this point, I'm shocked - but hadn't taken the time to think of all of the additional costs on my end (another leave from work, more vacation sucked up prior to my short term disability kicking in, more time with decreased pay while on short term disability). I ask which surgery we're doing first - boobs or arms - and which will include the flaps on skin on the side of my body. </div>
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And here's where the rage begins.....</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgordIIT8u_GLY93vzMG37h8UQpTVovTgIjO-zvH1EwnStHbxVgCQtWbPKH-qUGY9C8J1jSnLkjMYGb0u3jKMhNv4dCeGtbbOLFCuLPb0hS_0i9R9sWCyIYdAqAB1J9O6rCJJbdp2FBWMM/s1600/Notes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgordIIT8u_GLY93vzMG37h8UQpTVovTgIjO-zvH1EwnStHbxVgCQtWbPKH-qUGY9C8J1jSnLkjMYGb0u3jKMhNv4dCeGtbbOLFCuLPb0hS_0i9R9sWCyIYdAqAB1J9O6rCJJbdp2FBWMM/s320/Notes.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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Notes from my first appt, with flaps noted</div>
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He acted like we hadn't discussed the removal of the flaps and this would require an another procedure...One he had never mentioned, I didn't know existed, and he had never advised I might need during our repeated meetings and conversations. He also told me I could go "google it online". </div>
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Now I am IRATE. </div>
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When I ask for clarification - to insure he was telling me the flaps on skin weren't going to be addressed - he came back with a whole lot of bullshit that did nothing but solidify that fact that he didn't know my body, couldn't remember what we had discussed, and didn't seem inclined to complete the work we had discussed, and agreed to pricing on, prior to this point. </div>
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I asked that the notes from my first appointment, as I knew his nurse had taken them. See that area circled in red where it talks about the flaps of skin on my sides near my breasts? Yep - that would be the skin we're discussing here. The skin he acted like he didn't know existed. The skin that would require another procedure to get rid of.... Liar, liar, pants on fire.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguK-Edujyl8MIk_HO-QAeMfzyTp25YpXy2sefBxTdkYm3Gk_XMR4UsF7WUM3eA-aynroAy-w35z-9P_fMp2lNNWtmRYVDD0E0D6GfQEDgsxG6crNjuPMOq-9UM7Ya73YIMceBZBtr5Zuo/s1600/Flaps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguK-Edujyl8MIk_HO-QAeMfzyTp25YpXy2sefBxTdkYm3Gk_XMR4UsF7WUM3eA-aynroAy-w35z-9P_fMp2lNNWtmRYVDD0E0D6GfQEDgsxG6crNjuPMOq-9UM7Ya73YIMceBZBtr5Zuo/s320/Flaps.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">you see any flaps in the middle of my back?</td></tr>
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Oh - fun fact - - the new procedure I needed to correct my "back and flank redundancy" and because "these flaps wrap all the way around to the middle of your back" would be another $7500. SURPRISE!!!! He did backpedal after I sent the picture of my back, and said he could do the flaps with my arms...like he didn't have pictures of my back already he could have looked at? Just laziness. He also didn't care for the fact that I told him this whole scenario wreaked of unethical...</div>
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After all of this, I was an emotional wreck. I was ready to cry one minute, scream the next, punch something the next. On Tuesday I get his nurse involved - asking is she was aware of the information I'd been provided the day before. She wasn't. I wrote up an email, detailing my feelings about the last few days. I agreed to go to a follow-up to hear the "new plan" for the remaining work I needed to get done. </div>
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I was extremely disappointed in all aspects of how this was handled - from the texting of information this big/involved to how our meeting went that Friday when we met in person. I could no longer trust him to be my surgeon.</div>
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This is by far the biggest thing I've ever gone through. This was supposed to be an exciting, rewarding event - - where I finally got to see what was under all that flub. See what I'd been working so hard for over the last 3 years. Dr. Camp literally fucking ruined this for me. </div>
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I wish I didn't give him that much power. I wish I wasn't phased by this - - but we had a fucking plan...and in a 4 day period he blew it up because he was in over his head, and didn't have the balls to tell me that. He didn't care enough to warn me he had never had a project this involved before. He didn't want to admit that this "exceptional case" was more than he was ready for. </div>
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And the stupid thing is - - I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I picked him. I'm mad that I didn't see that he wasn't the best choice for me. </div>
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So here is what I'll share, to try and save some of you from making the mistakes I did:</div>
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<li>Do your homework, and ask the questions - - I didn't have a thorough understanding of what was all involved in the procedures I was having done...I figured I'd get accurate/thorough info from the doc/surgeon - but I've now learned that isn't always the case</li>
<li>Have someone with you to take notes during your consultations - probably not the worst idea to record them/take pictures</li>
<li>Ask for detailed information about where scars will be, how things should look after. Trust me - you'll appreciate having a heads up if you come out of there and your lady biz is all saggy/swollen/crooked....you don't want to be surprised when it looks like an anteater.</li>
<li>go through post care instructions prior to surgery. In person. With a group around. Make sure you aren't walking 2 hours a day when you're supposed to walk 2 hours a week.... </li>
<li>Does your surgeon have experience with people in similar situations to you? Sure - - everyone has to have someone be their first, but it doesn't need to be you....and being the first is incredibly overrated when they're out of their depth.</li>
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Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-70866785154137523422019-02-24T15:16:00.000-06:002019-02-24T15:16:34.150-06:00The Exhaustion of InactivityIt was a little over three years ago that I was the super content to sit on my ass, not doing a thing. Dormancy was my norm. Stillness my comfort. A trip to my kitchen was about the furthest I would walk with any frequency - and that was about 30 feet. Sitting and I were def BFFs.<br />
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Then Scott came on the scene...and with that came increased movement. Slow movement. Huffing & puffing movement. Whine-saturated movement. But still...movement. Over the last 3ish years - that had become my norm. I took a 4 week break at the time of my gastric bypass surgery - but still had frequent, short walks incorporated in that recovery.<br />
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Going into my first plastics surgery - I tried to get as much movement in as possible. I kept up with my workouts. Incorporated some additional yoga stuff, just to enjoy being able to move pain-free. Stayed on the elliptical. Remained the brightest spot in Scott's Monday & Wednesday afternoons with our sessions. I wanted to go into my surgery strong - knowing I did everything I could to get myself prepared for the best recovery....<br />
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I read, and reread, my post-care directives from my surgeon. Memorizing them, so I made sure I didn't cause any additional issues or delays in getting back to my now normal/active life. Little did I know that my surgeon and his team had failed to proofread these instructions - and I was told to walk 20 minutes, 6 times a day. This should have been 6-20 minute walks a WEEK. So the day after they cut around my entire body, and pieced me back together, they had me walking for 2 hours. I was putting on 4-6 miles a day for the first 3 weeks after my surgery. When I should have been enjoying my drug-haze downtime, I was out hoofing it around the hallways of my building.<br />
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So needless to say - I was less than jazzed at my 3 week follow-up appointment when they realized their error - and bumped me back down to 1-20 minute walk a day. I'd been walking around repeatedly when I really wanted to sit in my chair and enjoy a relaxing recovery - - but at 3 weeks out, I was feeling pretty good. I was ready to up my activity, and had it knocked back down to basically non-movement.<br />
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One of the pamphlets I was given about the circumfrential body lift (aka: FUPA removal) procedure said that people would likely be able to return to activities such as tennis, golf, swimming & sex after 4 weeks. I don't know who the hell would have thought sex sounded fun at 4 weeks - - but bless whoever they are. I can assure you, I still have no interest (not that I have a ton of options thrown my way) at 6.5 weeks out. But if people are able to play tennis at 4 weeks - why I am I still being held to one 20 minute walk a day? Trying to turn back the hands of time/potential damage caused by having me walking 2 hours a day when that is absolutely NOT what I should have been doing? I can't help but wonder...<br />
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Now I have realized the exhaustion that is caused by inactivity. I feel like I don't sleep as well as when I'm active. My body is...bored. I swear my brain is not firing on all cylinders! There are likely more side effects to share, but my brain isn't capable of remembering them.... =) <br />
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I knew recovery was going to be a change of pace. I just didn't fully realize how dependent I am on movement to keep me content and comfortable. Who would have thought movement could replace pizza?Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-54929241977277870652019-02-04T18:54:00.000-06:002019-02-04T18:54:26.247-06:00Natalie and the Terrible, Horrible, No good, Very Bad DayLet me start by stating that I absolutely hate what I am about to do. People who post cryptic, passive-aggressive statements or posts in what seem to only be a feeble attempt to elicit sympathy, or concerned questions about their welfare...it drives me bonkers...but here I go....<br />
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Today has been the most colossally shitty day that I can recall in a really, really, really long time. I'm not going to get into much for details right now because I feel like I need to give the situation, and myself, a minute before I spout off about things that could correct themselves (although that is seeming unlikely right now). So lets just leave it at the fact that today was absolute shit...and go from there. <br />
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Now...over the last few years I've developed slightly better coping skills. Where an emotionally taxing day in my previous life would likely end in some combination of: chocolate cake, beer, French fries, Cheetos, wine, pizza, big macs, copious amounts of queso, vanilla vodka, a Baconator or 2.... I have now typically turned to some sort of physical exertion to help deal with my emotional turmoil....<br />
<ul>
<li>a long walk with my headphones on</li>
<li>a quick, but strenuous, ride on the elliptical</li>
<li>two words: slam balls!!! (Scott's best purchase)</li>
<li>flipping tires - although I normally hate it, it makes you feel slightly invincible</li>
</ul>
So what does one do when their body has been sliced all the way around, and they can't do shit? None of the things on the list that have now become stress-relieving go-to's are allowed. I can't even go for a fucking walk because it makes me swell up, and makes my upper vag sensitive as shit!!! I can't even take a damn bubble bath. About the only thing, not food-related, that I can do is scream into a pillow - - and even that would probably make me pop a fucking stitch.<br />
<br /><br />
The best I could do was try and run the couple of errands I had as quickly as possible, and get my ass home. Drive past all of the fries and pizzas and chocolate cakes. Get myself to the warm, safe haven of my house. Get into my chair. Cover up with my blanket. Allow myself to feel whatever the hell it is I am feeling. Eat my taco meat with jalapeno dip. Keep the (non alcoholic) liquids flowing. And maybe, just maybe, find the outlet I need by firing up this computer and venting right here. Swearing as much as I fucking want to swear. <br />
<br /><br />
Not shoveling things "in" to try and make me feel better, but letting things "out". Let my frustration and pissed-off-ness and overwhelming disappointment out in a....questionably...constructive way. <br />
<br /><br />
There's still a decent chance I'll be in tears at some point tonight - - my emotions have been a little too close to the surface for the last couple of months - - and both being pissed off and sad/hurt/disappointed tend to bring me to the brink. And if I do, so be it. At least I won't be crying into a beer....which I count as a slight improvement for myself. <br />
<div>
</div>
Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-12068415559918116262019-01-08T18:00:00.000-06:002019-01-09T08:23:31.149-06:00My Brain vs. Plastic Surgery<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As odd as this is going to sound - there is a small part of me that is kind of sad to be having these skin removal surgeries. I've gotten used to this body. I know this body. I know it's capabilities and short-comings. This loose, soft, mess of a bod has become my normal. And as much as I poke fun at my vagina neck and my scrotum arms - and as much as I bemoan when I hear my FUPA slapping against my legs - - I'm also kind of proud of this body. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This body hung in there pretty damn well when I pushed both of our limits, taking us to almost 500#. This body tolerated those early "workouts" when every damn thing about them made it hurt. This body kept going, and kept working - shockingly never having a serious injury we needed to work around - until we gradually got to this point. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So all of that might help explain why although I'm looking forward to this next step, my brain has had numerous doubts. This is going to seem so scattered and random - - but scattered & random is exactly what has been going on in my head the last couple of months... </span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Do I really need to have FUPA removal surgery? There isn't really <i>that</i> much skin on my </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">stomach... I can totally live out the remainder of my days unaffected by this... </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You have lost all shame. You rock tank tops all summer, even with your scrotum arms swaying in the breeze. Why do you need to cut off the flub? You've survived this long with them - - what's 20-40 more years? </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You are not a girl that lacks confidence...are you? What are doing this for? Who are you doing this for?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Is the cost/pain/time associated with these surgeries really necessary? I mean - it's not like there is something I'm going to be able to magically do post-surgery that I'm not able to do right now. Cutting off my FUPA is not going to make me a marathoner (my knees and hips are shot - - removing a few pounds isn't going to change that). It's not like I can't get out of bed, but I will be able to once I have my scrotum arms chopped off. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The boobs. Good God! The boobs! This is the part I'm having the hardest time with... I mean...it will be the weirdest to suddenly have boobs after rockin' these crepes for so long. It's not like I went through something traumatic like my brave, strong, amazing friend who had a double-mastectomy, and more than earned herself a set of sweet cans. I bulked WAY up, then shrunk down a bit - and my tits packed their bags and left... Don't get me wrong - having some boobs that are actually where they're supposed to be, should be pretty sweet...but seriously...I'll be a girl who had a boob job (insert eye roll)</span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Is this just entirely too vain? Honestly. Vanity has felt, at times, like the only legit factor in choosing to go through this. To put myself through the pain. To make my family take care of me. To be "that girl" that was trying to attain a perfect body through surgery. I just have moments where this feels incredibly narcissistic and selfish. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But the truth is - there is no other way to get rid of this loosey-goosey skin suit. It is not going to magically contract if I just keep applying lotion. There is no amount of exercising on the planet that is going to tighten this mess up. This is quite literally my only option to not have a swaying orb floating around me at all times. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I share all of this to let you know that I don't take this opportunity lightly. I fully recognize how lucky I am to be able to do this, and I'm 100% committed to making the most of it. I am very aware of how amazing it is to be surrounded by the supportive, loving, kind, entertaining, giving people that I am. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I am so excited (and intrigued, to be completely honest) to see what we've been working on the last 3 years - because this has been a group effort. There is no way I would be where I am now without you guys helping to keep me going. I</span><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">'m happy I get to share the good, the bad & the ugly with you.</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I cannot fathom what it will be like to actually see what is underneath all of this...flub. I genuinely cannot even picture it. It's mind boggling. </span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now let's see what's next...let's take Natalie 3.0 for a spin, and see what she can do...</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Have you submitted your guess for the weight of the FUPA? Do that here: <a href="https://goo.gl/forms/ANEuAkqvoqNGqf6f2" target="_blank">Guess the weight of the FUPA</a> (I fixed the link)</span></div>
Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-49651283725640866992019-01-01T06:00:00.000-06:002019-01-01T08:19:18.698-06:00It Puts the Lotion on the Back<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I think I was born with a FUPA...I probably came out of the womb covered in goo, rocking a fupe. I don't recall a day where I didn't have one. Sure - there were varying degrees. Some smaller - some so, so large. Now it's can best be described as saggy...a loose pendulum swaying side to side with my movements. </span><br />
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<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">While I had issues working around my whole body those last few years, my stomach was definitely one of the most problematic. I couldn't bend at my waist - - so trying to get my shoes tied, get a golf ball out of the cup, and a million other things - proved nearly impossible. You should have seen me struggle to cut my toe nails, or paint them...laborious to say the least!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzdkHeO5FRKrQysvCXI0A_WQUNwO0ZtMA2ABUD7lbKoArKrY-BHGrL9qPn-I2xvJM5wrWG7r-LRaT90swdD-A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">This most recent version and I have developed a rhythm. For most of the past couple of years I co-existed with this more deflated version of my FUPA less than consciously. It became automatic to tuck my multiple layers around it, trying to keep the crevices clean & dry -- doing my best to not develop any of the painful looking rashes/skin irritations I have seen others suffer from. It became this soft and squishy extension of myself that I honestly barely noticed...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Well...barely noticed until I'd do certain things at the gym. When I exercise, I repeatedly reposition my workout pants to try to keep them between my FUPA and upper thighs - bound and determined to avoid chafing. Any sled-pushing, and burpee-doing, would result in an audible slap of my FUPA against my legs. Scott claims he couldn't hear it, but that sound was deafening to me...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">So as my FUPA and I enter the end of our time together, I've tried to pay attention. To not overlook the inconvenience it causes. To not diminish the tedium of insuring my skin is properly protected and cared for. To actually see the drawbacks of having this dangling mass hanging off my body - - not just the weight of it, but not being able to see some of the progress I've made working my ass off for the last 3 years. I have no idea what's under there, and I'm finally willing to admit I'm pretty damn excited to see it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I'm looking forward to having "the spread" (the extra bulk on my hips/ass that spreads out when I sit down) tightened up a bit. (pulling up my lower core area will also pull up my upper thighs/hips/ass) I may legitimately fit in my plane seat, and not have the the spread spill under the arm rests next to me! For a girl who is really happy to finally fit in a plane seat again, this is just the icing on the cake! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The only drawback is that I will legitimately no longer have an ass. I didn't realized that until we were doing "FUPA's Last Photo Shoot" and I made that video. When I pulled up on the top of my rear, that baby was GONE! Hopefully Dr Camp can build me a little something...we all know I have the extra material... but I've also warned Scott that my return to the gym will have to be known as "Operation: Build a Booty". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">We are down to our last 9 days together. It has been nice having this time to actually observe the changes to my body more closely than I have since my weight loss surgery...and it will be weird as shit for a while when it's gone...but I adjusted to this body pretty quickly. I'm confident I'll be just fine in my new FUPA-less existence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Have you guessed the weight of the FUPA yet? Here is a link: <a href="https://goo.gl/forms/yMi6JBtGmGPmgGyZ2" target="_blank">FUPA Weight Guessing Game</a></span></div>
</div>
Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-20425140278577773072018-12-26T05:30:00.000-06:002018-12-26T05:30:02.070-06:00New Year, New Natalie? <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is absolutely ridiculous that another entire year has passed! I remember when I was young, and all of the "old people" (anyone over 30) would tell me how fast time goes the older you get. I assure you, I believed that to be complete bullshit...but here I am - constantly in awe of how quickly our time seems to evaporate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I went in to 2018 a little nervous. The newness had worn off after my surgery. I figured I had definitely lost the weight I was going to lose - - I was weighing in at 209# on January 1st - - I had blown any and every goal I had for weight loss out of the water! Now I'd have to be accountable. I'd have to stay on task. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was my standard M.O. to stick with a plan for a while (granted - I'd already stuck with this much longer than most) and then just completely jump ship. Abandon all of the behaviors that had created any amount of success, and go back to my old, destructive ways. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was scary. I was concerned that I'd need that "newness" to keep my brain engaged. I was worried that without the shiny new accomplishments rolling in one after the other, I'd lose interest like every other time in my past. I mean, really - - when was the last time I finished something? When was the last time I didn't just give up when things got a little hard? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But then something happened. My brain finally clicked on, and realized that this whole process has been hard! </span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Admitting I needed to do something as drastic and permanent as surgery - hard. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Going to my bariatric appointments, both physically & mentally - hard</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Starting to work with Scott when I weighed 495# - HARD</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Being on a liquid diet for 21 days before my surgery - HARD</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sticking with all of the nutrition and movement guidelines right after surgery - hard</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Continuing to go workout and push myself - hard</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sticking with my eating plan, and continuing to follow the 30 minute rule - hard</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've proven I can do hard shit! And I can stick with it. Maybe I can trust myself enough...believe in myself enough...to actually accept this as my new normal. I am now a person who moves her ass, and eats what she's supposed to most of the time. I'm a person who is willing to be honest, and vulnerable, and really excited about things most people don't understand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm healthy. I'm happy. And I'm grateful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm heading into 2019 optimistic - which has been a really frightening thing for me in the past. I have this whole "it's easier to be hurt/disappointed when you were hopeful" attitude. I'm not sure when I turned into such a pansy - and now that I'm actually seeing it - I'm NOT a fan. That shit has to go. So here are a couple of things that I'm going to work on in this new year:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">New Bod - with a new bod comes responsibility. I will have an increased obligation to myself. To get myself as ready as I can for successful surgeries and recoveries. To get back to working out as soon as safely able, and stick with it. To continue to stick to my diet. </span></li>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">FUPA removal is 1/10/19</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">boobs & arms shortly after - - hopefully</span></li>
</ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Stop Saying "I'm Sorry" all the damn time - - not that I will never show remorse. Not that I will never owe anyone an apology. But what I'm going to try to curb is the automatic reaction within me to apologize if someone isn't 100% on board with my thoughts, statements or actions. The words "I'm sorry" come shooting out way to easy, and have lost all weight. They are just entirely too overused...I hear it all the time from others as well. Don't be sorry for everything you say, feel or do. This world needs to toughen up a little bit. There's a difference between empathy & remorse. Let's all try to be a little more empathetic...that's way more constructive as far as I'm concerned. And I'm NOT sorry to say it 😉</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Try to turn this new life into...something - - I have no idea what that looks like, or what opportunities there are - - but I trust myself enough in this process to allow myself to try and help others. I believe I have something to offer people who are going through situations similar to mine. I've been contacted by a number of people that are considering bariatric surgery, or are just trying to live a more healthy life - - and I love it. I know it was great for me to have people to talk to that had gone through the process - - and I'd like to be that for other people. So stay tuned...or send suggestions/ideas if you have any</span></li>
</ol>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know I'm a couple of days early - but here's to an ass-kicking 2019! What are your goals for yourself in the new year? </span></div>
</div>
Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-7870363697548697612018-12-10T12:01:00.000-06:002018-12-10T12:11:38.530-06:00#WhatNatalieEats<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/null" name="_MailOriginal"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Food. My narcotic of choice. For years, it
basically ruled my existence. It was quite nearly my demise. <o:p></o:p></span></a></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">BS (before surgery)
Diet: Diet Coke, Pizza, Diet Mt Dew, Burgers, Fries, Fried Chicken Sandwiches,
more Diet Coke, Copious amounts of alcohol, more pizza, many fried things…with
a just a dash of water thrown in so my organs didn’t completely shut down.
Needless to say, the drive-thrus got a work out!!! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sure…I’d pull it
together for short periods of time. Every time I’d start a new program, I’d be
militant in my execution. ON POINT! I’d have a few weeks. A couple of months,
maybe. It was the same with all of them: Weight Watchers, Slimgenics, Fat Camp,
LA Weight Loss….I was a star…until I wasn’t. Then I’d quickly pack back on any
weight I had lost + a whole lot more. The cycle was constant. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then at the end of
March 2016 there was the liquid diet. Twenty-one of the worst days of my life.
Looking at my life now it is very easy to throw it in the “totally worth it”
column - - but holy shit was that hard! For 21 days the closest thing to food I
got to consume was sugar-free jell-o or popsicles. Otherwise everything was
literally liquid. It was the absolute fucking worst. I had nightmares that I
cheated…one time I was guzzling Diet Coke like it was going out of
style…another time I was hoovering a caramel Twix… I’d wake up in a panic,
until I realized that I had literally given away ALL of my food, and there was
nothing left in my house to cheat with…I was safe. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the last 2.5 years
we’ve been working on our relationship, food & I. It’s had it’s rough
moments – but overall I’d say we’ve come out of this whole thing stronger J I
don’t really care for cooking – so I am frequently grateful that I can
literally eat the same things, day after day, without getting sick of them. I
still have the things I want to have, when I want to have them (assuming they’re
available to me) – I just have them in much smaller quantities. I have lost the
will to leave my house to grab something if I am having a craving – so have
found my need for it will likely pass by the time I have access to it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I do feel like my
taste buds have changed since my surgery. I still love Cheetos - not those
puffy ones – but the crunchy. Like, really love. But I have some new/odd things
I crave as well:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Combos! Seriously. The buffalo/pretzel & 7 layer dip ones...YUMMO!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Hotdogs! I spend a lot of time at softball fields in the summer, and can't seem to get enough. Gross - but so good. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Cucumbers - this has been the last few months - but put them with buffalo chicken dip, or HyVee ranch dip...swoon...</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Caesar Salad Kits - - thankfully this one was mostly last summer, or I could have died!</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I still love pizza –
and that remains the one food I limit how frequently I eat it. I try to keep it
to at least 2 we<span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">eks in between. A few times it’s been less. A lot of the time
it has been more. </span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As cliche and annoying as it sounds - I do genuinely see food more as a means to an end now, than the thing that brings me peace and comfort. Due to the schedule (waiting 30 minutes on each side of eating to drink) I have removed the opportunity for mindless snacking. In order to stick to my schedule, and get enough food in, and drink enough, I have to stay on task. No taking my time, eating more than I am supposed to at any sitting - because I can literally only eat so much at one time. I do see people that have had my surgery who spend 2 hours eating a meal...I have no idea how they make that work. I get in, eat, and get out - so I can wait my 30 minutes and drink again. My life is a series of schedules and rules - but they're working - so I try my best to roll with it. </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">My new life wants
me to do High Protein, High Fat, Low Carb. Daily goal is 80 grams of protein.
It seems like I eat the same stuff every day. Here are some of the regulars:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _MailOriginal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">** please do not take
my diet as any sort of nutritional guideline! I eat very differently than the
average human should - - but it works for me. Consult a professional with
questions/ideas/guidance **</span></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Protein
Shakes: it is still my least favorite. Likely because my brain knows I HAVE to
have it, and I don’t like being bossed around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Greek
Yogurt with granola<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Turkey
Chili<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Cured
meats/Jerky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Cheese,
cheese, cheese <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Nuts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Bacon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Eggs
with cheese, EBtB seasoning & mayo – sounds gross, but trust me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Balanced
Breaks – before the gym<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The biggest adjustment I have made, is packing my food. Each day I pack snacks and lunch. Every weekend I go to tournaments I have a cooler packed with snacks and beverages. I CAN eat whatever I want, but I CHOOSE to stay on plan the majority of the time. Yes, I have hotdogs and cheetos - - but I eat my yogurt and nuts the rest of the time. Sometimes the planning gets a bit annoying - but it has just become my life now...and my body thanks me for it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-63372748193700902712017-12-31T17:54:00.000-06:002017-12-31T17:54:00.601-06:00Happy New Year!2017 has definitely left an impression. Looking back it seems like it lasted about 15 minutes...but when I look at all of the things I've done this year...things it simply would not have been possible for me to do before...it's more than slightly mind-boggling.<br />
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For those of you that follow along on Facebook or Instagram - you likely already know most of this, so hopefully you don't find my recap too boring...but so many people type up their holiday letters recapping their year of adventure and accomplishment - - and for the first time in forever, I feel like I have some pretty cool shit to share!<br />
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The word I would use for 2017 would be "amazing". I started the year feeling amazing - - I was at about 280pounds. I had lost over 215 pounds. I had already flown past where I was hoping I'd get after surgery. I was working out. I was eating pretty well. I was able to fit into actual pants again...I could wear jeans. I was feeling fantastic. I was thinking that if I could just maintain that loss - - if I could somehow keep myself on track, and not have a huge backslide, I'd have it made. I was no longer limited by my size. Don't get me wrong - I was still a sizable lady - - but compared to where I had started....I was content as hell!! But I would learn that I didn't need to be content with where I was at...because things were just going to keep moving!<br />
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In March I did something I hadn't done in years...which kind of seemed like a theme for this year... I loaded my ass onto a plane, somewhat fitting in one seat! My sister & bro-in-law used their miles to allow Wendy & I to go Mexico to visit our aunt an uncle for a few days. I realized a few things while on this trip:<br />
<ul>
<li>I truly am solar powered - - winter is horrible</li>
<li>It is so much less anxiety-producing to fly on a plane when you're able to somewhat fit through the aisle, and don't barely fit through sideways</li>
<li>My face sunscreen had obviously expired, because I fried the shit out of myself from the neck up</li>
</ul>
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The end of winter/early spring also gave me the courage to do something else I'd been hesitant to do. Reconnect with friends from years ago. I was lucky enough to get back together with some of my absolute favorite ladies from my Moorhead State days...it's amazing how we were able to just pick up where we left off - - didn't miss a beat! I hadn't seen them in 20 years - most recently because I was just too damn embarrassed about how I'd completely let myself go, and gained approximately 1 million pounds.<br />
In April I went to Seattle with a group of fantastic friends that I've had since 7th grade. Seriously, so much fun! We walked, and walked, and walked. Something there is not one chance I would have been able to do before. And I only got "hangry" once. Live and learn - always carry snacks! =)<br />
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This year I attended a bunch of concerts and sporting events. I know most of you totally take for granted the fact that your ass is just going to fit into whatever seating is offered/available - - but let me assure you, when you've been on the other side of that - - having anxiety over seating/walking/standing for years, it is so fucking fantastic when you realize you can now fit. In stadium seating, in tiny folding chairs all strapped together. You can go up or down the number of steps required to get to and from your seat. You're not worried about how far you might have to walk to get to your final destination. You don't panic if you might have to stand for a bit (although you will forever prefer sitting on your ass if given the option). You finally get to remove "no" from your list of auto-responses, and actually getting to formulate your answer based on your genuine interest in whatever the event is you have the option to attend. It's magical!<br />
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One of my biggest reasons I decided to have this surgery - - other than the sheer exhaustion of being a 500# person - - was my family. I knew they were concerned about me - - many awkward conversations later, and I finally heard them. But anyway - - they were a huge factor. I was so tired of missing shit! So I have now gotten to attend more softball games, basketball games, t-ball/coach pitch (which lets face it - - is like watching a few adults try to herd cats) in the last couple of years than the 10+ years before that combined. It is honestly so amazing to get to watch these kids accomplish such amazing things - - and I'm finally there for it!! I'm there for it all!! I just don't know how to describe it other than I am just so grateful! I love these 3 kids so much - - and being able to be present for them is just indescribable. And I feel like I have like 30 nieces and nephews now - because I appreciate their friends and teammates - and want nothing but fantastic things for all of them!<br />
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In September I crossed a major experience off my bucket list. We went skydiving!!! I had wanted to do this for years. YEARS!!! And my dad & sisters did it with me. And my poor mom came along and took pictures, and watched her entire family load onto a plane, just to jump out of it! And as a huge added bonus, one of my best friends from Jr High/High School brought her nephew on the same day, at the same time! All 6 of us got to go on the same plane. All of us got to experience this amazing thing together. I know there were a couple in my family that weren't exactly excited about it - - but once we all made it safely to the ground - - I came in on my ass, which seems appropriate - - I think they were glad they joined. It was, you guessed it...amazing. And finally being to the point where I could do it was....just...wow.<br />
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And, as if this year wasn't rad enough - I went to Utah in November. My youngest sister/activity coach went to visit my bonus sister and her love. I don't even know how to describe this experience. It was just the greatest. Our hosts were fantastic, and took such good care of us. And were so patient with me, and my cardio limitations/crazy brain. Everywhere I looked, it was just beautiful. I saw some of the most amazing shit. And it was just miles and miles and miles of untouched/unfuckedwith beauty. As a girl from Minnesota, I had no damn idea just how many mountains were out west! This was such an eye-opening experience. And I feel like it demonstrated, in the most gorgeous way possible, just how far I have come since I made the decision to have this surgery. I was just so damn thankful for being able to experience it.<br />
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So....those are the big things. Those were the major milestones. But what it's not telling are the millions of tiny little things that made this year uniquely awesome. I weigh in tomorrow - on the 1st - so we'll see if the sugary treats of the holiday season have caught up with me - - but as of today I've lost another 73# this year. I'm down a total of 288#. I've gone from a mens size 5X tshirt to a mens L. I now feel like a bit of a slug if I don't move my ass a bit during the day. I'm going to keep track of the miles I put on in 2018 - - I think that will be a really interesting number...especially considering my mileage for 2015 was probably about 30 miles...total. Seriously.<br />
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See....amazing. Doing amazing things, surrounded by amazing, supportive people. I am so damn lucky. I appreciate all of you.<br />
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I am not naive enough to think that 2018 won't have it's challenges. Going into the maintenance phase....trying to stay motivated when the pounds aren't dropping off...will be a major focus for me. Sticking to the things that got me to this point - - working out, lifting weights, watching what I shove into my face, moving my ass. And I will likely start researching some skin removal options...but that honestly scares the shit out of me....so we'll see. But even with these things staring me in the face, I am so excited to see what this new year brings. What experiences I'll have that just a couple of years ago seemed impossible.....Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-15324336016415601362017-10-22T16:01:00.000-05:002017-10-22T16:01:15.334-05:001.5 Years. 18 Months. 72 Weeks. 546 Days.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">Wednesday I hit a pretty major milestone - or at least it felt like one to me. I am coming off the most transformative 18 months of my life since....well, probably since my initial 18 months. So much has changed. So much has gotten better. So much continues to surprise me. So much is awesome. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">Part of me cannot believe how fast this time has gone, and part of me feels like it's been a million years. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">I look at that girl on the left, and it's truly becoming harder and harder to remember her. And although my first inclination may be to pity her, I quickly look to the right, and realize what a badass she was. She summoned up the courage to admit she needed help. A lot of help. She recruited her family, her friends, got herself a trainer...and she knew sharing all of this with anyone interested in following along would help her. Putting the good, the bad, and the sometimes really ugly out there would allow this overwhelming support to come into her life - - and she needed all of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;"> Because although there is a very large contingent that believes surgery is the easy way out - and I will shamefully admit I used to somewhat belong to that camp - I now realize that is just absolute bullshit. Many of the hardest times I can remember - the most challenging emotionally - have been since I walked through those doors of the bariatric department at Methodist/Park Nicollet Hospital. Between the 3 weeks of liquid diet and the strict diet for the numerous months after my surgery - - this shit was HARD!!! Now, yes - carrying 495# around was hard as well...but I'm simply stating this process is no walk in the park. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">But is it worth it? In my humble opinion, it is totally worth it. It has been, and continues to be, totally worth it! The results I have had have so far exceeded what I thought was possible. Prior to surgery, I was hopeful to get where I was at the 6 month mark (those pictures from 10/2016). I weighed 317# at that point. I'd lost 178 pounds, and was feeling damn near spry. I know I picked 225# as my goal on this ap that I use - but I truly thought there was no chance I'd get there. I thought maybe after skin removal, and if I really kept working out...I could potentially get in the vicinity - - but honestly!!! I cannot wrap my head around what is happening here!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;"><a href="https://youtu.be/3cp2vOBObbM" target="_blank">Loose skin Video</a> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">I know describing this experience as "weird" is completely over-simplifying - - but I honestly don't know how to accurately convey what is quite simply, disbelief. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">I feel all of the things you'd likely guess I feel: fortunate, blessed, better, healthier, more lively, more mobile....but I also feel loved and supported and more empathetic and kinder (a little bit =)) and empowered and worthy and excited and stronger - physically & emotionally.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">I cannot wait to see what the next year and a half has in store. </span></span>Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-15549973763196602662017-04-18T19:42:00.002-05:002017-04-18T19:42:30.505-05:00a year in the LIFE<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A year. 365 days. 52 weeks. 12 months. That is the amount of time that has passed since that one day when my best decision became my new reality. As with each milestone that comes and passes, this one also feels a bit surreal - - like time went by entirely too quickly, but this just also seems like how things have always been....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> But, of course, this isn't how things have always been.... The way things had been for entirely too long went something like this: eat like crap, become less mobile, try to eat better, exercise a little bit, lose a few pounds, fall completely off the wagon, stop exercising, gain back every pound I'd lost and then some... repeat... repeat.... and so on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That was until one day when that girl on the left looked at her kitchen, which was about 20 feet from where she sat on the couch and seriously wondered if it was worth having to get up and go <i>all the way out there</i> to get something to drink. Seriously. I had to contemplate whether it was worth it to have to get up (no easy task) and walk the 20 feet to my kitchen to get a drink. Because at that time movement of any sort caused pain, or discomfort, or both. That was it. That was the final straw. I needed help. It was time to seriously consider surgery. I sent a text to my youngest sister about it before I changed my mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I talked to a couple of people who had gone the surgery route, or knew someone who had. I found 2 fairly close ties that went through the same hospital and the same program. That was about the extend of my research. I did their online pre-qualification stuff. Received the packet and went to work on that - mailing it in as quickly as I could before I lost my nerve. My insurance wouldn't cover it - so I tried the appeals process, which was just a complete waste of time. I was lucky. I had the option to borrow the money. I will be paying for this hammock for the remainder of my days - - but at least now I will hopefully live enough days to get it paid off. And just like that, my first appointment were set. September 9, 2015. I met with a lovely nurse, a doctor and the nutritionist. I used valet at the hospital, because I wanted to walk as little as possible. I weighed 495 pounds. That number was humiliating. How I let myself get as far gone as I did is beyond me. Really. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I had appointments with the physical therapy department and the psychologist. For the physical therapy appointment I had to walk down to the other end of the hospital. I literally had to sit down and take breaks. It was just too far for me to walk in one stretch. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I had to do a sleep study, and found I had absolutely horrible sleep apnea. I met repeatedly with each department until they all finally gave me their approval to have this surgery done. I had my final appointments what ended up being about 6 weeks prior to my surgery. I finally met my surgeon - Dr. Thomas Jones. He said he's assembled the exact team he wanted to perform my surgery, and my date would be Monday, April 18th. You see - even though I was going to weight loss surgery, I was still heavier than most that have this procedure done. I was advised at an early appointment that they wanted me to lose 50-70 pounds prior to my surgery, to make it less dangerous. I also had to sign forms that said I understood that if something did go wrong during surgery, I was still too heavy for the machines that would help them figure out what was wrong - - so they'd basically just have to open me back up, and go exploring. So basically I was too fat for weight loss surgery. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">what I now lack in boob I make up for in swinging arm fat</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It was right around Thanksgiving of 2015 that I met with, and started working with Scott. The 2nd best decision I've made in quite some time. I cannot express enough my gratitude to him. Sure - I would have lost weight with just the surgery....but for me the goal was to always get back to healthy. I would not be anywhere near where I am right now without him helping me get to that goal. I still have SOOOO far to go - - but I'm definitely headed in the right direction. And my FUPA isn't hanging to my knees - and I believe he is solely responsible for that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's been a year. Someone sent me something soon after my surgery written by another person who had a similar surgery that basically said you forget about all the bad things associated with the surgery, because the good things are so good. I have searched for that recently - but can't seem to find it anywhere. But it's true. Those bad spots: the liquid diet, the few months after surgery where everything has to be mush, the fatigue, etc - - all of it pale so much when compared to the overwhelming positives. I have my life back. I know that sounds so cliche - but it is the truth! I was damn near immobile - and just last weekend I put on about 17 miles walking around, exploring a new city with my friends. I'm realizing how low I had allowed myself to get, and I am definitely feeling like I'm on the upswing...and it is nothing short of absolutely fantastic! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span>Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-77271699429630665592017-02-18T15:01:00.000-06:002017-02-18T15:01:32.704-06:0010 Months Sure Can FlyI feel like I blinked, and it's 10 months later. No - I haven't completely forgotten about the first few months after surgery when I was losing all patience with my diet, and this whole new life in general - - but that does seem like a distant memory at this point. It is insane to me how much my life has changed - but also how much this just seems like my normal at this point. And day to day, it is my normal - - but then I sometimes think back and realize just how far I've come.<br />
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After my personal training consult (one of the many departments you meet with prior to approval for surgery) I was told I needed to walk for 5 minutes at a time, 4 times a day. I would literally walk in circles around my apartment, and you would not believe how difficult it was to keep moving for 5 minutes! I'd have to sit down and take a breather after each round. These days I don't experience anything near that. Yes - I am still in pretty crappy shape - - lots of room for improvement there - but 5 minutes is nothing. Just one of the many things I don't even think about anymore, until all of the sudden I'll stop and think about just how immobile I was....<br />
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As with any major surgery, and subsequent life change, there are some challenges....<br />
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<li>My face continues to be broken out most of the time. I guess this is normal - but I swear my skin is worse at 41 than it was when I went through puberty! I'm really trying to focus on making sure I'm getting enough water in my system, and I've started putting coconut oil on my skin a few times a week. Maybe I just hit a good stretch - but it seems to be helping!!</li>
<li>I'm still not loving drinking my protein shakes. I need to have one a day in order to get me to my protein goal, because I just can't eat enough to get there without it. I have flavored (chocolate, banana & caramel) premade shakes as well as protein powder I could mix with milk or water. They no longer make me nauseous - but I think I'm still holding a grudge from when they did right after my surgery. That, and it's the one thing I <i>have</i> to have per day - - so of course that annoys me.</li>
<li>Getting enough liquids proves to be a challenge for me. Because I can no longer "chug" when I drink - I can take a couple of swallows at a time, but that's it - I basically have to drink ALL DAY LONG!! (trying to drink too fast gives me a pain right under my sternum - like the water gets stuck there, trying to get through my hammock. So I have to drink more slowly than I normally did before surgery) That's when I'm not waiting my 30 minutes on either side of eating.... I get distracted - so getting enough to drink can prove to be a bit challenging. </li>
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But all of those are admittedly minor. The list of positives is much more meaty - -<br />
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<li>Things that are easier now than they were 10 months ago: EVERYTHING!!!! Walking. Getting up. Sitting down. Like I willing just moved every piece of furniture and cleaned along the edges in my apartment - vacuumed and wiped down base boards (my mom would be so proud)!! I haven't done that...ever. I fold my laundry and put it away - because I'm able to wear more than the 4 things that fit. After running errands, I put things away - they don't just lay in a heap for days until I can gradually motivate to put them away. These are little things that everyone else on the planet just does - but they are things I never really did before. I'm taking some pride in my existence again.</li>
<li>Job Confidence - I've worked 2nd shift for the last 3+ years. It worked really well for me when all I did was go to work, sit on my couch and sleep. It didn't matter if I was working on a Tuesday or a Saturday - - I wasn't going to do shit with my time anyway! But now that I want to participate in my life, it was starting to cause some fairly major scheduling issues. I applied for a job on the day shift - and will be moving as soon as my replacement is hired and trained (hopefully by the end of March). This is something I just wouldn't have done before for a variety of what are now ridiculous reason - - and I'm so excited.</li>
<li>I have muscles. It is nearly impossible to see them at this point, because they're being safely stored under a whole lot of wobbly flesh - - but they're there. I can feel them sometimes! I think I had to have a certain amount of muscle deep down before - - it takes some strength to move 500 pounds around. But now I have more - and there are brief moments where I feel like a little bit of a bad ass!</li>
<li>Dating....I'm not 100% sure this belongs in the positive column...it has been an absolute exercise in absurdity so far - but I'm counting the fact that I'm open<i> </i>to <i>trying </i>to date as a pretty significant win. I'm willing to put myself out there a bit. Although I'm still not sure I was designed for this - - I'm more than a little set in my ways, like my alone time, have zero tolerance for bullshit, etc - - we'll see how it goes. </li>
<li>I have a couple of vacations planned. The first - my sister Wendy is taking me to Mexico (where our Aunt Rhonda & Uncle Candy are willing to let us crash at their place) for a few days in March. Here's how things have changed - - 1. I am not even completely freaking out about getting on a plane (more specifically - my ass fitting in the plane seat). I cannot remember the last time that was the case. I banned myself from flying in 2010 until I could fit - and before that every flight was an anxiety-inducing disaster. Now - I suspect I'll fit - and it's going to be fucking awesome. 2. Vacation to me no longer means drinking and eating to excess - - the thing I'm the most excited about is going to walk in the green and the sun and the warmth. (this was all before it was 60 degrees in MN in February - - but I'm still pretty damn excited). Warning - I will likely be blowing up my social media pages because 1 - this will provide some pretty epic NSV's and 2 - my sister Wendy and I attract mayhem wherever we go together - so 12 hour travel days will likely create some memories worth sharing and documenting. </li>
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So there you have it - - my 10 month "state of the hammock"... Things continue to go so much better than I ever thought they would. And I am constantly overwhelmed, and humbled and just so incredibly grateful for the people who are just nothing but supportive. My sisters and parents have mentioned how people they know are hanging out with me through this insane experience, and will talk to them about it. It's truly amazing to me, and I continue to be blown away by all of you. Seriously - you guys help me so much. I consistently baffled by what I've done to deserve you all, and the kindness you show me day in and day out. I love you all. Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-27600170392152185762017-01-20T13:08:00.000-06:002017-01-20T13:08:10.290-06:009 Months Post-Op** I'll try to do updated photos every 3 months. As with my 6 month shots, you'll see more of this bod than you likely want to - but I want to be as honest as I can about what this process is like/does to a body. You've had your warning =) ** <br />
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It truly seems like so much longer than 9 months since that morning that I couldn't stop sweating, because that's how my nerves chose to manifest themselves. Since I put on that huge gown with the cool air hose hooked to it. Since the new nurse tried to get my IV started, unsuccessfully. Since I sat there in that bed on wheels waiting for them to take me off to surgery, genuinely concerned I wouldn't wake up. Since Dr. Jones and his team changed my life for the insanely better.<br />
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In the photos I post that have 3 pictures - the one on the left will
be September 2015, the middle will be October 2016 and the right will be
January 2017. I am wearing the same clothes to show that difference as
well - and lets face it - - they're pretty damn comfy now! I didn't
spend a lot of time trying to make everything fit just right - so
they're not professional shots by any means - - but they should give you
an idea.<br />
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I don't know that I see much of a change from the 6 month to the 9 month pictures, but the lighting makes me look like I have a bit of a tan, so I'll take it =) I'm so pasty white thanks to Minnesota winter!!<br />
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Putting these pictures together was a little bit more difficult than it has been in the past. I don't know if it's that I am feeling so much better, and able to do so much more now - - not sure what caused it - but I was just so genuinely sad for that girl on the left. <br />
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This 9 months has definitely been a time of self-actualization. Before my surgery, I never felt depressed. I didn't feel like I lacked confidence. I didn't realize how the choices I was making were based on what I perceived to be the best I could do instead of what I actually deserved. I didn't feel that unhappy. Sure - I had moments, but it wasn't all the time. Thank God for defense mechanisms!! I am just now starting to realize how much I was holding myself back because it was just easier to do that then want/wish/hope for things. And I think I'm about done with that shit. Time to start going for exactly what I want!<br />
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I think this back photo, which we forgot to take at 6 months, was the most shocking to me. I mean, holy shit! All of those rolls were eating my bra! Not to worry - my ass is still wide, and those hips aren't going anywhere - - but I'm fine with that. Look at the rest of my back!!! It's not just multiple big rolls anymore! Yes - I will likely have chronic back fat - but I don't give one shit! I have a back now! I can kind of see the line where my spine is. I guess all those damn rows and back exercises Scott has me doing are worth it...almost! =)<br />
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I seriously cannot get enough of looking at this comparison. It is just unbelievable how much a body can change in such a short period of time! This, ladies and gentlemen, is why you do weight training.<br />
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This one...hasn't really improved. These arms of mine are...saggy. There is muscle in there somewhere - - I promise! But the loose skin/sagging is insane! My nieces were touching the saggy part and promptly informed me that it feels "like a boob!" Which is great news, as I could possibly just move this saggy crap over to my boobs (see picture below) so I might actually be able to fill out my bra again! The one positive of this comparison is that my wings (that part under my armpit, hanging over my bra) appear to have shrunk up a bit? Or maybe that's just wishful thinking?<br />
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Speaking of boobs - - mine have officially left the building. On the left you can see the open/unoccupied area in the cup of my bra. That's a lot of unused space, because my poor scrotum boobs are basically poured loosely into the bottom half of the cup, and no longer have the "meat" to fill the whole thing. Let me say - YES. I know I need new bras - but seriously. I can fit my fist in the now open area. Maybe I'll put a play together called "bye, bye boobies"?<br />
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The only other drawbacks I'm experiencing at this point is my hair - - it is still falling out at an alarming rate. Hoping that will start to slow one of these days. And nothing really fits right. I seem to be in the middle of all of the sizes. Not really something worth complaining about - - but it is my reality.<br />
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So things are moving right along over here. A year will be here before I know it. I feel like that warrants some sort of celebration - - but just not sure what that should be? I'd be open to suggestions? <br />
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Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-87126455380457528082017-01-08T09:57:00.000-06:002017-01-08T09:57:10.259-06:00When Not Normal Becomes NormalIt seems as though my 7 and 8 month surgiversaries snuck right by me! Maybe it's because some of those milestones that seemed so big soon after surgery are seeming less and less noteworthy, and less and less important. Maybe it's because this "new" life is truly starting to feel like....life. Not new. Not old. But definitely better. Not to fret - - I will still be celebrating...it just may not always be monthly...because the day my life so drastically improved for the better is most assuredly something to be celebrated.<br />
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So as I approach my 9 month surgiversary, I've taken a little time to reflect. I interact with people who have had the surgery more recently than I have. I have a friend of mine from college who will be having her first appointment soon. When I chat or text with them, it takes me back to when I was at the stage they're at. All of the emotions you feel before your first meeting - - nerves, excitement...and also questioning if this is the right decision. Do I really <i>need</i> to have surgery? (the answer to that one for me was an absofuckinglutely) But you still go through all of that. Then those first few months after surgery can be so frustrating. The diet is limited. You might not be losing as fast as you wanted to, or as fast as others have - and you have a hard time not comparing your experience to theirs - - but everyone's experience is so different!<br />
<br />
But the truth I am reminded of every time I start looking back is that this was the best decision I have made, and could have made, for myself. It's not always easy. There are definite challenges. I have to be conscious of the decisions I make regarding food all the time. I keep waiting for the honeymoon phase to end, and for it to be come increasingly difficult to make good decisions - because let's be honest - one doesn't get to almost 500 pounds if they don't have some pretty significant issues with food. But so far, so good. I still follow my rules. I don't drink within 30 minutes of eating (I set alarms, which has earned me a fair amount of mocking from my coworkers). I try to stay away from carbs for the most part, but don't beat myself up when I have them occasionally. I treat myself to the small bags of Cheetos sometimes. I don't drink carbonation, don't use a straw, don't chew gum and haven't had any alcohol in....forever. And I don't miss it - - except for diet coke, but oh well.<br />
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I've also spent some time looking to the future - which is new for me. Willing to try new things. Interested in trying new things. There are still many instances where my brain instantly reacts as BS (before surgery) Natalie would have - - instantly thinking "no" or "I can't do that"...but they're becoming less and less. I'm not nearly as content as I once was to just sit in my chair watching TV all day. I want to be out - - even though it's winter - doing things. Errands no longer terrify me. I'm no longer concerned about when I run my errands to insure I'm able to get the closest spot possible, so I don't have to walk any further than absolutely necessary. My only deterrent now is the weather (winter is not even remotely close to my favorite), but at least I can now fit into gear to allow me to combat it a bit.<br />
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Everything is easier. That is the biggest difference. EVERYTHING is easier. Getting up, sitting down, bending down, reaching up. Movement is easier. Everything doesn't constantly hurt! My left knee is still being a bit of a bitch - - but Scott has me doing some new exercises that will hopefully help. If not - off to the doctor I will go to have it looked at.<br />
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I'm trying to embrace cooking....or as I still like to refer to it: food prep. I've been scouring Pinterest. I've got some ideas sent to me by people on my page. I can't make any promises - but I'm going to try. That which does not kill you... =) It has it's benefits and challenges. One benefit is that when I do make something, I have about 342 meals because I eat such small portions. One challenge is that I have 342 portions - - so I end up eating it FOREVER! My freezer is currently fully stocked! One of my favorite meals continues to be a Greek yogurt, nuts and a string cheese. I was a little over eggs - - but that seems to be passing, gratefully. Still working on high protein, high fat, low carb. It's not as much of a challenge as I thought it would be. I allow myself pizza once every 2 weeks - - it's my gateway drug, so I'm a little more strict than usual with it.<br />
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My hair is falling out - which his proving to be the only real issue I deal with. Most people have said theirs stops around 6 months. Most people also have much less to lose than I do/did - but hopefully it's getting ready to wind down here before too long. I picked up some Biotin yesterday - so we'll see if that helps. But honestly - if that's the biggest issue I'm dealing with, I'm pretty luck.<br />
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I overextended myself a bit with work during the last month of the year, and was do damn exhausted I could barely function! I ended up skipping workouts, which made me feel guilty and stressed. It was a good reminder to me to not go back to BS Natalie - - where I didn't worry about taking care of myself, or make time to take care of myself. I need to allow myself time to take care of me. I need to make time to take care of me. I'll do better. I was back seeing Scott last week - and all though all the things kind of ached a bit, it felt so good to get back into that routine!! I have a body that will move now - - I need to keep it moving!<br />
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So basically, things are kind of kicking ass for me right now - and I'm trying to enjoy every minute of it! I hope your 2017 is off to an excellent start. I can't wait to see all of the amazing shit it will bring our way!!Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-42862001267572113602016-11-23T11:46:00.000-06:002016-11-23T11:46:12.930-06:00Ode to my TrainerOne of the primary reasons I finally broke down, admitted I needed help and had this surgery was that I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be mobile. No longer living in fear of having to walk somewhere, or stand for a while. I wanted to be able to play with my nieces and nephews. Go for walks. Live a "normal" life...not the size-edited version of a life I'd been living for so long.<br />
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Part of my success, I knew, would be finding a personal trainer. I've worked with a couple of them in the past, and the truth of the matter is - I need one. I am not one to stretch out of my comfort zone. I don't try things to see if I can do them. I don't push myself.<br />
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Today Facebook let me know it was my 1-year anniversary of friendship with Scott Sutherlin.<br />
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Around Thanksgiving last year, I started working with my trainer Scott. My sister's sister-in-law went to his bootcamp classes, and she had really good things to say about him. He was right in my town, so that was convenient. At our first meeting, I just knew we'd work. He's worked with overweight people - and by overweight I mean well over 20 pounds to lose - and has not only helped them shed the weight, but keep it off. Weight-loss surgery patients were nothing new to him. He didn't see like one to take any shit, which I can appreciate. I still remember that first meeting like it was yesterday - - He made me stand during the entire thing. It was likely less than 30 minutes - but I was starting to sweat, and my knees hurt - - typical things for me.<br />
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I met with him a few times a week. It started so slowly, and so simply - which is exactly what 495# Natalie needed. He had me walk - at whatever pace I could - for 15 minutes. Small circles around the gym. I still remember how fucking hard it was to walk for 15 minutes!!! I was so grateful to be able to sit down when I finished. He worked in a bit of weight-training - - but the goal was movement. I hadn't been doing anything for so long, that that alone felt like something major.<br />
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As I dropped a few pounds prior to my pre-surgery liquid diet, we worked up to some tougher things - flipping tires, more weights - but for the most part it was walking. He'd keep me entertained with his stories while I walked in circles. The boredom he must have experienced watching me walk in circles for what ended up being close to 30 minutes - - I cannot imagine. But he did it, because at the time that is what I needed.<br />
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I was gone for about 2 months between the liquid diet (no energy at all), my surgery and recovery. When I came back we eased into it. He knew enough to start slow - see what my body was able to do, and where it's limits were. There have been a few days where I was just run down - where I hadn't eaten enough in the days before - and he knew I needed rest, and allowed me to do that. I cannot speak enough to the importance of working with someone who has the knowledge, and experience, to continually put your best-interests first.<br />
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So we got back to our 3 sessions a week. Easing in at first - I still had fairly new incisions on my stomach, and I'd still get woozy/light-headed fairly often because I wasn't eating much at the time - and was ingesting no carbs. Scott was patient, but firm. He wasn't going to let me off easy - but he also wasn't going to push me into something that would cause me harm.<br />
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I can't remember when the switch was exactly - but suddenly he knew I was ready. I was able to do more than we'd been doing. Everything was kicked up a notch. It was time to test out this new bod, and see what it could do. I had slightly move mobility than I'd had before, and he was going to use it. There are multiple times per session where doubt creeps in. He asks me to do something, and I start mentally calculating the levels to which I will fail. But you know what -- I don't fail. He hasn't asked me to do one thing that I physically can't do. Mentally - it might take me a minute to get my body to cooperate. But he keeps saying he'll never ask me to do anything I can't do - - and he's right. Hopefully one of these days I'll start to believe him right away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4fA2cMMT7pr96_xAusLfxejhawT0EVpdoaKMose-cs0BH0Jd-ecsWIFOGq4RxdJ3LccBEf7tlurtnCj85OrSKmAoMaJy9cYnZ1Z6EMQALte-rTu-IwKvpRW8IHs9es5Hd8PkKDHSsSA/s1600/agility.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4fA2cMMT7pr96_xAusLfxejhawT0EVpdoaKMose-cs0BH0Jd-ecsWIFOGq4RxdJ3LccBEf7tlurtnCj85OrSKmAoMaJy9cYnZ1Z6EMQALte-rTu-IwKvpRW8IHs9es5Hd8PkKDHSsSA/s320/agility.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no good comes from the agility ladder</td></tr>
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And here's the truth - - I do not like our sessions. I wish I could tell you I love it, and every second of our time together is magical - but I can't. I have to keep telling myself "it's only an hour. It's only an hour. It's only an hour" my entire way to the gym. It's fucking hard. But when it's done, I feel pretty damn fantastic! I'm cranky, and I'm surly and I'm bitchy - and yet he tolerates me. He doesn't lose his patience. He doesn't scream. He basically just tells me to STFU and do it. And then I do. And then I'm amazed by what I can do. Today he hauled out the agility ladder. My eyes immediately started to roll, and I asked him if he was aware that "agility" and my body were mutually exclusive. He was not. And he made me do it anyway. And I was awful sometimes, and sometimes I was ok. But I could do it. (I'm still somewhat in awe)<br />
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From the outside, we may appear to have the most dysfunctional relationship - he is constantly making me do things I don't want to do, and I'm forever being mean to him. But if you look closer - you see he's the best kind of friend - - he knows what I'm capable of, and continually pushes me. <br />
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I know without him, I wouldn't be where I am today. Sure - I would have lost weight...I have a hammock, after all. But I wouldn't have lost as much as I have - and my body wouldn't have transformed as much as it has, if it wasn't for Scott. I am so grateful to be able to work with him. I am so grateful he takes the time to work with me, until I'm ready to join the group classes. I am so grateful that he shows me on a daily basis that I am able to do things I'm certain I cannot. I'm grateful that he pushes me, even when I swear at him and give him one of my less-than-loving looks. I am grateful.<br />
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Happy 1 year friend-iversary Scott. I appreciate you so much, even when all I do is act the opposite. Here's to many more...you poor guy! =) You might never get rid of me....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott & I, post-workout in his torture chamber</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-72507463323009483252016-11-04T17:40:00.001-05:002016-11-04T17:40:57.475-05:00Non-Scale VictoriesI've been told repeatedly that it takes 21 days to establish a habit. As per usual for me, I tend to take a little longer - - like 6 months, apparently - for things to start feeling normal. It has finally gotten to the point where I feel like I have myself into a bit of a routine...for the most part, anyway. I have moments...or weeks...like this one where I just didn't feel like doing the things I normally do - but for the most part I have settled in a bit.<br />
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I'm trying to be responsible and food prep. I've resigned myself to moving more, and going to the gym when I have appointments set. I'm embracing and getting used to this new life of mine. Or at least I'm trying to. I'm going to lay some honesty on you real quick - - there are stretches of days where I swear it seems like one long list of shit I don't want to do: food prep, go to the gym, go to work, laundry, dishes, etc. Not that I'm miserable. Not that I find no joy in my life. But there are periods where there isn't really anything I'm looking forward to, and all of the things I'm marking off the list are out of obligation. That tends to be fairly short-lived...but it is the truth.<br />
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But then I hear Scott - sometimes in my head, sometimes at our sessions - reminding me to be grateful for, and appreciate the little things. Like the day I was bending over to pick up the bar and noticed the dry skin on my shins. He was kind enough to point out to me that it likely wasn't that long ago I couldn't really get a good look at my shins. Enjoy the little things.<br />
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And there have been quite a few lately - - I shared the fact that I can finally tie my shoes while standing up, instead of requiring some fairly significant calisthenics (which I just had to look up how to spell, because I was sure there was another T in there...but anyway...) while sitting on the side of my bed. I can finally use any stall in a public restroom without having to get in, straddle the toilet to get the door closed - then basically touch all the sides while I'm in there, and straddle the toilet to get the door back open. I'm not going to lie - it feels pretty damn amazing!<br />
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Yesterday, I stopped at Wal-Mart (which I usually try to avoid like the
plague - but they do have plus-size long sleeved lady tees that are
cheap - -and I'm all about that right now). One of the issues I have
been having heading into winter is - how much do I spend on a winter
coat that will (hopefully) only fit me for one year. I just honestly
cannot want to spend money on clothes right now! So I walked into the
clothing department, and they had winter coats for $20. TWENTY BUCKS!!!
Now - as a lovely, large lady, I have not been able to just walk into
Target or Wal-Mart and buy coats - - even plus-size coats - off the
rack. I've had to order them, and they never fit right - so it has been a
<i>long</i> time since I've had a winter coat that I actually wore,
that actually fit. So I grabbed the largest size they had on the rack - a
size 3X (22/24) and it fits!!! Like I can zip it up and everything! I'm still a big girl - but getting to be a bit more manageable! I was seriously on cloud 9 for like 2 hours!<br />
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For perspective - I started at size....a trillion? Honestly - I'm not sure. I would wear 4X maxi skirts made of jersey material with lots of give - - and I used all of it. Shirts, etc I was into 5X or 4X mens. I couldn't even get my size 32 jeans up - and I can now not really keep them up. The green and blue pants I am currently wearing are size 28 Boyfriend cut from Lane Bryant. I can actually dry them IN the dryer (no more hanging everything to dry for me) and they still have some room in them. So the fact that this 22/24 coat fits is...awesome.<br />
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But here's the big thing...I never really considered myself an unhappy person. I didn't consider myself someone who lacked self-confidence. What I have come to learn is that I am not so great at being self-aware. Or my internal gauge that advises me on how things are going is just that good at protecting me. Because what I'm experiencing now is quite different. I feel like it's easier to smile. It's easier to make eye contact. It's easier to be kind. It's easier to try and be helpful. I'm sure there was something within me that had me keeping my guard up - - just incase that one was one of the days someone decided to give me the looks, or comments, about my size. Whatever was in charge of my self-preservation was not to be messed with! Now - this is not to say that I don't still have plenty of the sarcastic a-hole that everyone has grown to love, within me. =) But I find that I make eye contact and say hello to strangers more than I used to. I acknowledge passers-by, even on my walks where I'm sweaty and feel like I'm going to die - - I stick look them in the eye and smile. I'm pretty sure this is by far my favorite NSV (non-scale victory) to date. There is just so much to be said for feeling happy, healthy (or at least getting there), confident...comfortable...in your own skin! Am I perfect? So far from it. But I feel like I'm getting back to the out-going person I used to be before life and weight beat the hell out of me, and it feels fucking fantastic!Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-60172753483649041992016-10-20T14:43:00.000-05:002016-10-20T14:43:51.899-05:006 Months Post-OpEvery month my surgiversary surprises me. Every month it simultaneously feels like there is no way it's been as long as it has been - 6 months in this case - while also feeling like it has been forever since I went under the knife.<br />
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In honor of this milestone, I thought I would show you guys what happens when you go from nearly 500 pounds to...less...rapidly. I hope you don't consider these pictures to be offensive. Part of me wanted to completely throw up taking these pictures - - I'm not big on showing off my bod, but another part of me is really proud of how hard I've worked for what is now a very lumpy, bumpy body - but a much stronger body as well. I want to thank my sister Wendy for being my photographer for the new pictures. I hope I didn't traumatize her or my niece Macy who walked in for a few of them. These aren't pretty - but they are reality.....<br />
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All of the comparisons in this post are from the same 2 dates. On the left is September 9, 2015 - the date of my first appointment with the bariatric department. On the right are pictures from October 19, 2016. My surgery date was April 18, 2016.<br />
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My hands and arms are one of the first places I noticed a change. My fingers aren't as puffy as they once were. There are days where I can actually tell there is a wrist bone in there! One thing I noticed right away about these pictures is that I still have a tan near the end of October in the current picture. Why? Because I actually spent time outside this summer. Lots of time - participating in all sorts of run things - because I could!<br />
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I have been so lucky. I have been pain-free since shortly after my surgery. I have been able to eat a wide variety of foods, and have never (knock on wood) gotten ill. My hammock is finally able to tolerate protein shakes again without making me feel nauseous, which really helps make sure I'm getting to my protein goal each day. From month 1-2 post surgery I wasn't doing very well. Physically, I was fine. Mentally, not so much. There were times where I questioned if this was the right decision for me. I was so beyond tired of being told no, and having so many limitations on me that I was ready to snap. I can honestly say I have zero reservations saying that this is by far the best decision I've ever made for myself. Everything - and I truly mean everything - is easier.<br />
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This picture is hard for me. I have been programmed to avoid the mirror for a while now. If you don't really look at yourself, you don't really have to deal with the fact that you're...huge. I guess that must have been my philosophy? My defense mechanism? Because although I knew I was big, and getting around was hard, I didn't realize just how big I was.<br />
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And now - because of my mirror avoidance - I hadn't really looked at myself. The first time I saw my legs was in the mirror in the dressing room when I was trying on jeans a few weeks ago. They are an absolute mess! They are bumpy and you can see where my inner thighs are already sagging. I'm wondering if I'll ever see my kneecaps again?<br />
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But then my sister pointed out how good all of those lumps and bumps and sagging are. They <i>are</i> awesome. Because even though they may not look that great now, they are so much stronger than they used to be. They're allowing me to do so much more than I used to be able to do. Those legs tried to run yesterday!! Those legs worked so hard just getting me around before - they had to haul that 500 pound body around. Those legs should be so damn tired that they refuse to do anything - but instead they allow me to do squats and stairs and hike with relative ease. These legs are fucking amazing you guys. And although my FUPA is still holding on strong, it's a hell of a lot smaller than it used to be - and it isn't getting in the way nearly as much as it used to. So I'll embrace these lumps. I'll try not to cringe when I look at bumpy skin. I'll try and show this body the love it deserves for all the hell I've put it through, and it's still giving me it's all.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure what I'm looking at here???</td></tr>
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It's not my body's fault that I tested the elasticity of my skin to such a ridiculous point. It is not reasonable to expect my skin to snap back when I've lost over 100 pounds in 6 months.<br />
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Yes - everything looks like cottage cheese right now. Yes, I have bat wings (that's the affectionate nickname I have given to that flap hanging over my bra under my armpit). Yes - my hips and thighs are dimpled. It's what happens. It is unavoidable when you were as big as I was. Will it go away or lessen with more exercise, and more time? I don't know. I think it might lessen a bit. May tighten up a small amount. But not completely. I will have to have skin removal surgery at some point, because things in the loose skin area are only going to continue to worsen the more weight I lose. The one thing that makes that seem worth it is that maybe they can put some of that excess back into my pancake boobs. Maybe? We'll see.....<br />
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So that is where my body is at 6 months. Let's talk about the rest of me....<br />
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My brain continues to be an issue. I think that is to be expected to a certain point. You can't be as heavy as I was, with the limitations I had without there being some residual...anxiety left behind. The only place that it consistently rears it's ugly head is in the gym. I have had instances where I am supposed to be doing something (stepping up onto a bench, or trying to rest my weight on a stability ball) and I will just absolutely freeze. The internal dialogue is ridiculous!! Eventually I get my body to cooperate, and I don't die, and then the next time I do it is easier - - but I would really be fine without all the back and forth to get to that point! I'm sure Scott (my trainer) would be fine with that too. =)<br />
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Other than the mental stuff - everything is going pretty damn great. I'm borderline obsessed with honeycrisp apples with peanut butter and key lime greek yogurt at the moment. I'm trying to enjoy every decent day we have left before dreaded winter hits. I'm really enjoying not living in fear of...so many ridiculous things. I try out most chairs with arms I run across now, and my butt tends to fit in most of them!!! There are days, and there are moments, that can be a bit of a challenge....but for the most part life is pretty damn good right now. <br />
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Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-661626354746915922016-09-18T16:12:00.000-05:002016-09-18T16:12:04.589-05:005-month SurgiversaryI swear I just wrote my 4 month update - but according to the calendar today is, in fact, the 5 month anniversary of my surgery...my surgiversary if you will.<br />
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Thing are still going surprisingly well. Shockingly well most of the time. I am pretty much able to eat anything at this point - just much smaller quantities, which is to be expected. I haven't really had anything on bread or a bun yet - just because I only have so much space in my hammock. Yesterday I was drooling looking at people eating a sandwich. Nothing fancy - just a regular sandwich....I think it looked so good just because that isn't something realistic for me to have right now. I'd get 3 bites in and be stuffed! Maybe one day I'll make myself one...or the desire will pass as most of my cravings do these days.<br />
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I feel like I've finally gotten some energy back, which is awesome. For a while there I felt like I couldn't really do much in the gym. I'd be pooped after 2 short sets of exercises. While I still get a little woozy now and then - I do typically feel like I have more energy. I still hit days here and there where I don't - like when I don't get enough to eat for a day or 2 beforehand. Those are rough to recover from. But I'm trying to live and learn, and do better the next time. Skipping a meal isn't really an option when you're already taking in so little.<br />
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My only real problem at this point continues to be my brain. It is amazing to me how frequently I have to have internal battles with myself. And most of the time, they aren't even food-related, which has been a shocker to me. It's about physical things.<br />
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Every day before I meet with Scott I have to gear myself up. I have my brain wanting to make up excuses not to go. I have my brain telling me how hard it's going to be, and that I can't do it. My usual internal argument to this is: it's only an hour...it will be over in an hour.... When I get there, and he tells me the things I'll be doing that day I have to literally tell myself to "Shut the fuck up and try it" rather than immediately bitching about it/telling him I can't do it. (there are tshirts in the works for this) It really becomes exhausting at times! Because the truth is - I can do it. Maybe not well. It certainly isn't perfect. But I can do it. The last couple of weeks I've really focused on just showing up - shutting the fuck up and trying it - and I'm not going to lie to you....this now 335 pound body can do way more shit than I thought it could! Seriously. It amazes me every day. I'm still horribly out of shape. I get winded, and so sweaty, and sometimes woozy....but I'm doing it! I'm doing all of these things I couldn't have even considered doing 5 months ago. And even though I am proud of myself when it's over, and amazed by what this still really overweight body can do, I can't get my damn brain to shut up!!!!<br />
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So I deal with this negative Natalie brain, which is understandable to a point - - I mean, I put my emotional/mental well-being through he ringer as well being as heavy as I was. And was so heavy, and damn near immobile, for so long that my brain is having a hard time adjusting. Just now I had to correct my last sentence - it said I "have been so heavy"...I switched it up to "was so heavy". Baby steps. So I'll continue to tell it to shut the fuck up when needed, and I'll just keep trying to show it that we can do a lot more things now than we used to. It no longer has to live in fear...or at least not nearly as much fear...because we're kicking more ass every day.<br />
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I thought back to my liquid diet I was on pre-op vs. now. I was sooooo miserable during those 3 weeks of liquids. I was scared and hungry and questioning if this was going to be a complete disaster...and even with the stuff I mentioned about I can say without fail this is the best decision I have ever made. I'm getting my life back, and this life is pretty damn good. Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-35873199698611243182016-09-04T15:16:00.000-05:002016-09-04T15:16:30.553-05:00Looking at having Weight Loss Surgery? <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been in contact with a few people in various pre-surgery stages, who have had a few questions for me. Although some of them may have been answered in previous posts - I felt like I should dedicate one post to things I think helped pre-surgery, things I wish I would have known, things that worked for me. Hopefully it will help at least a few people heading into one of the biggest days of their life....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">**Disclaimer** I'm learning that all programs are different. Please listen to your doctors, nurses, nutritionists, psychologists and surgeons. This is just my take on my experiences, and should not replace the words of medical professionals. =)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Pre-Surgery</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For those of you that have started, you are likely feeling like the whole process is a bit daunting. So may appointments, approvals, etc just to get to the actual surgery! I know I just got burned out on the whole thing, thought I had approvals I didn't have and thought I was further along than I was. Ask the questions. Have I been cleared for surgery by this department? I thought I had been by 2 departments, when I wasn't - and it just caused more delays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Exercise. I am certain the fact that I pushed through the enormous amount of pain and discomfort to exercise prior to my surgery played a huge role in how well my recovery went. Having done some abdominal work...having gotten my body used to walking...just making myself move - - I'm am confident it helped me after my surgery. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Going on a bon voyage tour with all of your favorite foods. Even though I was told by my nutritionist that I would be able to basically eat everything post-surgery (eventually), my brain felt like I needed to eat all of my favorites. Repeatedly. I can vouch for the fact that you will be able to eat your favorites after surgery. It may take a bit for your new baby tummy to toughen up a bit - but you will be able to have your favorites...just less of them, and in moderation. I haven't run into anything that's "off limits" except my beloved Diet Coke. Damn you carbonation!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When you are heading into surgery, and still weigh well-over 400 pounds, you have to sign extra forms. Forms that detail the issues that might come up post surgery: leaks, blood clots, etc. The issue is, that if you are over 400#, the machines/scanners that they would normally use to detect said issues won't work for you, because you're too heavy. If you're like me - this is when the nightmare scenarios will start taking over your mind. When you will start to believe that there is a pretty good chance you're just not going to wake up after the surgery because you're too damn fat to have weight loss surgery. But you will wake up. You will be fine. They just have to cover their asses, while helping you to shrink yours. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">your life during the liquid diet</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Liquid Diet. Now this is where I see the biggest discrepancy amongst the different programs. For me, and my program, I could only have liquids, jello and sugar-free popsicles. Some can have a no-carb meal once a day. But that is not how it worked for me. The minimum number of days to be on liquids with my program was 10. I had to be on liquids for 21 days. THREE WEEKS, people. Because I was so heavy they wanted me to drop as much weight as possible to get me into a safer weight range prior to surgery. There is just no way to sugar coat this for you....the liquid diet is absolutely the hardest thing I've ever done. I was miserable the entire time. I was hungry, the entire time. I'd be at work and people would make food....I swear...someone was going to get hurt. The issue is that you still have a human sized stomach, but aren't getting anywhere near enough to put in it. The reason I was having surgery is because I love food - - and you have to go cold turkey! It's just awful. We can really only be grateful that I survived, and so did everyone else. =)<b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The night before / Day of surgery</b></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sticky towelettes & directions</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The night before my surgery I was advised to take a 1 hour shower. Seriously. 1 hour. I couldn't have stood for an hour at that point of my life if I needed to, so I soaked in a bath for 30 minutes, and rinsed for 15. I was given these big towelettes of antibacterial solution to use in a very specific order after the shower. They said it would dry, but it never really does. You'll be sticky. It's gross. And then in the AM, you cannot shower again. I got to do a PTA (pussy, tits and ass - - thank you Grandma Betty) wipe down before heading to the hospital. You will feel kind of icky.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b> </b>Then you get to try to sleep. I wish you well, on that. I was like a kid before Christmas. Probably got about 2 hours of sleep due to the aforementioned nightmare scenarios running through my head. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There were to be no liquids after midnight. Gratefully, I was to check in pretty early in the AM, so I didn't have to sit around thinking about all the things I couldn't eat and drink. But as soon as you get put into your pre-op room, they'll ask you to pee in a cup. Good luck with that, as we weren't able to drink for hours...<b> </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You get weighed, blood drawn, temp taken, etc. Strip and get into your surgery gown. If you're anything like me, your anxiety manifests itself in the form of perspiration. Lots and lots of perspiration. But luckily my hospital had these really sexy gowns that hooked up to a hose and they could pump cool air into it. Never been more grateful for anything in my life. Then your family, or friends, or whoever you want can come in to visit...trying to keep you calm and sane prior to them wheeling you off. The nurse will get you hooked up to your IV - make sure that's comfortable - it will be in for like 2 days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They'll wheel you off into the surgery room - or at least I think it was the surgery room - I was only conscious for about 2 minutes. They had me transfer to the table. Strapped my arms down. Put the compression things on my legs (that tighten & loosen to keep the blood moving and avoid clots during, and after surgery). They'll warn you they'll put you under, and then you're gone...off into sleepy time. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3daA9BAmsmhqRzp994NiE1RMSDcgjOUdUCl01ap7ApJOLGzbBlFET4bTNduQH3vd7vKirYkzoJyaf9B_c9yjPjEHGNNdTJouA1iR3fUqoJVs0LyfxE2Ynbpy2JE6nWTq5wyVUViqkyPI/s1600/nasea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3daA9BAmsmhqRzp994NiE1RMSDcgjOUdUCl01ap7ApJOLGzbBlFET4bTNduQH3vd7vKirYkzoJyaf9B_c9yjPjEHGNNdTJouA1iR3fUqoJVs0LyfxE2Ynbpy2JE6nWTq5wyVUViqkyPI/s200/nasea.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the look of nausea</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I woke up after my surgery I was in a room with tons of other people. The nurse started talking to me right away. My first thought: "<i>YES!!!! I WOKE UP!!!</i>". My 2nd thought: "<i>holy shit! what's sitting on my chest!?!?!</i>". By far the worst part of the next few days was the gas pain. They pump you full of air during the surgery - but sadly haven't figured out a way to suck it back out. You have to wait for it to "pass"...and mine was in no hurry to do so. Eventually they wheel you to your actual room. Through what feels like the whole hospital. On elevators, in hallways, with complete strangers. The good part is you're so drugged up you don't even care that you're likely drooling, and possibly snoring for part of it - - but this move made me so nauseous. I never actually got sick, but it had to have been close. The nurses take off your surgery gown, and basically just cover your cloth gown. Another perk - they do have larger beds for their larger patients - so I didn't feel like I was spilling out of the thing! And then you sleep on and off. They start the pain meds - take them. Trust me. And start the anti-gas meds as soon as they offer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few hours after getting back into your room they want you up, out of bed. I had to move to the chair next to my bed. I was sure my legs would give out, but they didn't. I had to sit there and attempt to drink water. They gave me 2 cups like the size that come with Nyquil. I had to try to drink one in 30 minutes. After that test, they want you to go for a short walk. This is when they cover your shoulders with a robe (because you have the IV in one hand, so can't use the sleeve) and hope like hell it doesn't fall off so you moon everyone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The first night for me sucked. The gas pain was pretty bad. My CPAP machine kept making my oxygen reader I was wearing on my finger go off. It was anti-restful. The next day I was feeling a little better - - but then I slept the entire day. People came to visit, but I barely remember, and didn't really participate at all. When I did wake up, I'd take a short stroll. They also put this thing in your toilet to catch your urine. I think they track it in some way - but that was kind of gross/annoying. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <b>The first week</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The 2nd morning I was free. My sister drove me home. I barely remember it. I was on Oxy for the pain - and I was out of it to say the least. I do not understand how people take that every day. Be prepared for more nausea on the way home. Once you get there, you will likely sleep on and off for the next few days. I was lucky enough to get a recliner that had been my uncle Dan's. I slept in that for over a week, probably closer to 2. My incisions were too tender to try and lay down, and I was nervous I'd never be able to get back up if I were to lay down. Mobility was much less of an issue than I thought it would be. I had serious concerns that I wouldn't even be able to wipe myself - which ended up not being a problem. I kept a pillow over my stomach most of the time - especially when standing up. Something about the pressure helps your incisions not scream at you. I did a few short walks a day. I filled a gallon freezer bag with water to make a big ice pack. I used that on my stomach after the walks to keep swelling down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Be prepared - - you will have to give yourself (or talk someone else into) giving you shots in your stomach for a week. I guess that helps with blood clots too. I got pretty good at it by the end of the week - but I gave myself a number of huge bruises. I was off all of my anti-nausea and pain meds within 2 days of being home. I finally took my first poop on day 4 or 5. And seriously - the first time I farted I was ready to throw a party! It is no time to worry about being lady-like! It is necessary to feel better. Embrace it. And ladies - - be prepared for your cycle to be insane. I had my period for 2 weeks straight after surgery. Then mine went back to normal. Some others weren't so lucky. Just one more thing to be aware of. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Toward the end of the first week I noticed that water was starting to taste like metal. I also had a metal taste in my mouth that I just couldn't get rid of!! I was brushing my teeth like 10 times a day trying to get rid of it! It took about 3 weeks for me to find out that that is normal. It's Ketosis, I believe. Something that happens when you're dropping weight really quickly. I was told lemons & limes in your water would help. Nothing really seemed to help, so everything had to be flavored for me. I still drink watered down Powerade Zero. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was warned I might have an aversion to sweets after surgery, and boy did I. I couldn't choke down a protein shake without feeling nauseous for 3 hours. I tried to power through - but finally had to go to my nurse for some advise. I stopped the protein shakes, and started drinking Fairlife milk. I HATE milk, but it was a must according to my program. I'd drink 7oz of white w/ 3oz of chocolate. It did the trick. I didn't feel like I was going to vomit most of the day. The moral of this story is - if something isn't working for you, call your nurse right away! Don't make yourself miserable. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <b><br /></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>And then....</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My program moved...sloooooooowwwwwwllllllly to say the least. I finally got to have watered down yogurt or tomato soup after that first week. Everything the consistency of apple sauce. After 2 weeks of that nonsense, I could move onto pureed foods. I took a hardboiled egg with some mayo, mustard, and a little milk and threw it in a food processor. That first bite may have been the greatest thing I've ever eaten! I lived on those eggs and refried beans with hotsauce for the week. Then finally, the next week, I got to have berries. Still a really limited list of things - but at least a couple things that required chewing. So it took me a month to get to the point that I had to chew. It took me another 2 months to get to the point that I could actually have something that made a sound. It was right around the 2 month mark post-op that I seriously almost lost my mind. I was so tired of the limited diet. I was so tired of being told "no". I was so tired of the extremely long list of things I still couldn't have. I just wanted a raw vegetable, damn it!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was toward the end of <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the pre-op liquid diet, and <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the first couple of months of my <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">limited post-op diet t<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">hat I realized just how comforted I was by food. How the act of eating <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">soothed me. It help<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ed me under<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">stand why I would have larger than needed<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(by ne<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">eded I mean <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I would have been content with less food - wouldn't <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">have gotten to the point of stuf<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">fed, but definitely wouldn't have felt hun<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">gry) <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">meals<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. It was like my <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">security blanket. An<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ything that was going wrong...or right... <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">could be made better by food. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The act of eating was therapeutic <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">for me. <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now that I<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">'<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">m 4<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">+ months out, those feelings are much less frequent<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">..but it was really rough there for a while. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b> </b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But hang in there. One day they'll tell you to go for it, but be smart. And even though you can have anything you want, you won't even need it. Just being able to have it is such a huge step! And your body will tell you when to slow down... your mouth will start to water if you go too fast, or try to eat too much. And that reminds me - don't eat, and then lay down! I made that mistake just one time. Not sure on the cause, but it took me about 5 minutes of deep breathing and lots of swallowing to make the "holy shit, I'm going to puke!" feeling pass. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I've been very lucky. I see, and communicate, with a few people who have gotten sick a number of times when trying to eat or drink. I, knock on wood, haven't. Other than the protein shakes right after surgery, I haven't had any issues. I urge you to touch base with your nurse if you're having consistent issues. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I will say - I have followed the rules. I've eaten what I was supposed to, when I was supposed to. I was advised not to drink for a year (concerns about addiction transference, I believe) and I haven't. Maybe that is what has made my recovery fairly easy? Or maybe it is just luck. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Exercise: I would do my walks after my surgery. I started to work weight-training in after about 6 weeks. I was somewhat concerned my abdominals might rebel, but I haven't had any issues. I also work with a trainer who knows what he's doing, and helps start me off slow, and build up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I just have one more thing I want to touch on. This is really none of my business what you choose to do - but I'm going to throw my 2 cents out there anyway. Regarding the Scale - - I weigh myself once a week. That is it. I feel like most of us are so damn excited by those numbers going down that we want to check in on it frequently. I feel like that's just setting yourself up for a letdown. Our bodies inexplicably fluctuate. Trying to make sense of what you did, or didn't do, on a daily basis to see the number you're seeing is just a recipe for disaster. Please - don't put that extra pressure on yourself. Allow yourself to enjoy your non-scale victories as much, if not more, than your scale victories. At the end of the day I think we all did this to feel better, to be healthier, to be able to do more. Yes - a lower number is awesome, but if you're feeling good who gives a shit what the scale says?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Good luck to you. I hope your surgery goes well, and your recoveries are a breeze. Don't hesitate to contact me if you have questions. I'm more than willing to share anything I have that might help. Good health to you all!</span><br />
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Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5641422025286516554.post-36607219326088686432016-09-02T13:43:00.000-05:002016-09-02T13:43:10.665-05:00Body AwarenessOne of the things that allowed me to keep functioning...well, somewhat functioning, before I had my surgery was the fact that I never really realized how big I was. Yes - if I was aware of potential issues with going to unfamiliar places - - seating, walking, standing, etc. Yes - I would immediately become aware during those instances where the general public thought it their place to comment on my size. But day-to-day, task-to-task, it wasn't a consideration. I knew I was overweight. I knew my physical capabilities were limited. But that just became so commonplace that I didn't even really give it a second thought most of the time.<br />
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Now that I've dropped 155 pounds, it is strange to me how much more aware I am of my body. Things it can do. Things it still can't do (my knees - the left specifically - are still being a pain in the ass) How running errands is no longer something I need to fear. My whole body doesn't ache for the day (especially my knees & hips) because I went to Target for 20 minutes. I don't get as many looks as I used to - - possibly because any amount of movement doesn't cause me to be dripping sweat like it used to, or possibly because - dare I say - I might be slowly coming out of the "shockingly huge" body size? This is not to say that I am small by any means - - but maybe... just maybe... my size isn't quite as noteworthy as it once was? I have noticed that at work, if I need to walk over to someone's desk to ask them about a call I'm on, I don't have to sit for 15 to get back on the call because I'm so winded from walking 20 feet. I don't have to search for the closest parking spot, because any extra walking is taxing.<br />
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As much as I'm paying more attention to my physical presence - I'm also still completely oblivious to changes is so many other ways. Just last night were a few reminders - - I still brace myself when stepping off a curb. I used to almost have to turn sideways to step down off the curb because my knees couldn't support me walking/stepping down like 99.9% of the population would. I still look at a flight of stairs with dread - but I wasn't even winded when I got to the top of it. We walked up this inclined ramp to get into the grandstand, and I felt that old familiar panic before we started up it. But I can do it now. Yes - I was sweaty after walking up the ramp, through the enclosed building, down 2 flights of stairs and then up a flight - but not dripping sweat - just kind of sweaty. I wasn't out of breath. I didn't need to take a break. I can do it now. But my brain hasn't quite absorbed the fact that I can do it. It still doubts me. I guess I'll just have to keep pushing it until that pesky fat brain decides to get with the program.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1L_-edAodKKvC86NVokTaY3t40ftTpoa8Nl8m5q7b11LY2KVtUoKd6rD76BZ7ZDVXQsSKkGwPLJrx24nJQAN-EUwETF5NGesBBFUDxhLn_c3krEBKuTCaCGqIHkNRU6E9g-YFYbsaW8/s1600/fair+fam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1L_-edAodKKvC86NVokTaY3t40ftTpoa8Nl8m5q7b11LY2KVtUoKd6rD76BZ7ZDVXQsSKkGwPLJrx24nJQAN-EUwETF5NGesBBFUDxhLn_c3krEBKuTCaCGqIHkNRU6E9g-YFYbsaW8/s320/fair+fam.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">waiting for Alabama w/ the fam, and greatest photo bomber</td></tr>
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My ass, on the other hand, is still an issue. Seating, is still an issue. But I'm trying to fight my tendency to act like a complete bitch when my size-anxiety/uncomfortable feelings come up. We went to the Alabama concert at in the Grandstand at the MN State Fair last night. Last year I was too huge/immobile to go join my fam - so I was pretty damn excited to go this year. We took the bus, walked around a bit, and then headed to our seats. The "floor" seats in the grandstand are basically folding chairs hooked together. 30 of them in a line, with no space between then. Now - although my rear end has gotten a bit smaller - it has not gotten small enough to fit on a folding chair without spilling over. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into - but that didnt' stop the old feelings of panic. But my family was awesome. My mom took the end seat of our group, so I could smash in between my sisters with tiny butts. About 5 minutes after sitting down I could feel the anxiety leaving because I was so happy to be there with them - and I could tell they were pretty happy I was there too. My brain will continue to be a tricky bitch, but I just need to keep trying things. No longer letting the fear determine my activities.<br />
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The good news is, with the volume of squats Scott seems to think I need to be doing these days, my ass will be shrinking in no time!Slimming Down to Sexyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196704255855773815noreply@blogger.com2