Dumping

I dump on the weirdest things. Like water. Or egg salad. Or chicken.

One day I am completely fine, the next day, rumble rumble, gurgle gurgle, ick. Bad news. The nice bit is that it stops the blockage, and cleans me out. The bad bit is that it is usually at work, I feel like I need to lie down for a couple hours and sleep.

Other than that, I am doing great. I have meetings this week at work that are pretty interesting, and have to head to Boston on Sunday for meetings on Monday. I am taking Mom and Pop with me on Sunday and asked to split a meal with my mom (who also had surgery) when we go to brunch. No verdict on that yet, but it just makes more sense then wasting two entrees.

Small victory-- I have lost over 58 inches since the start of this adventure. I feel like I am right on track.

I am now starting to think in terms of goals per month. It will be two months Oct 2, and I thought it would be a good idea to have a goal to work towards for month 3/6/etc. Does anyone want to share their goals? I feel like saying it outloud helps me align with the universe in making it happen. Sharing your goals would help me in determining where mine should be.

Not so scary food choices

I went to wedding extravaganza yesterday. Just a beautiful wedding. And a gorgeous day, on the river, overlooking Manhattan, getting a little bit of a suntan.

Except for the duck spring roll, I think I did really good yesterday. Bacon wrapped scallop, grilled squash, 2 bites of dry pork loin, chicken salad with candied walnuts, crab and avocado crustini, 2 bites of really dry red snapper (from previous posts, no dry fish). I did have a bite of the wedding cake which was terrible, and a small pastry (almost like a mini pound cake loaf, but like the length of the tip of my thumb), but overall, great job. I drank my water at appropriate times, danced and danced, and just had a blast.

I am a good dancer. I forgot that. I did a little swing with some of the boys. That was fun. Performances all around. I love being in a room full of people that want to sing and perform. That was the best part.

The difference between yesterday and Friday is that I was so conscious of my Friday choices that I made sure I was fed and watered before I got there, and then just had enough. When the food started showing up I walked around to the tables and laughed and joked with the others. I asked things to be taken away when I was done. No more picking for me!

scary food choices

I had two small spareribs, a handful of calamari, a pork meatball, and four bites of tiramasu, three bits of ice cream and a bite of a apple egg roll.

I feel sick. I gave myself permission to eat this way. I am most disappointed in the sweets eating portion. I don't even like tiramusu.

So what is there to do-- plan meals. Don't let a meal happen accidentally. Plan it out. And stay away from going out. Eat plain for a bit, no mixing too much.

God, I don;'t want to go down the slippery slope of "oh it's just...". Because I never want to feel the way I felt just moments before surgery-- vulnerable, scared and huge.

Go Faster Go Faster

I am still doing the weigh myself every other day/hour thing. I want this part to go faster. I don't think a 7 pound weight loss in a month is good enough.

Wow.

Good enough. That's the cycle I keep repeating-- nothing is ever good enough. Or not enough. And I keep fighting that-- that I am not enough, and consequently, too much. That somehow I am lacking the willpower or stamina or strength to have 20 pound losses in the first couple months out from surgery. Since surgery I have lost about 30 pounds, but in that two weeks of liquid diet I lost 20, so it should be more, right. Because other people have this success.

A couple years ago, a book came out that said if you weren't dating in a serious relationship by 25, that you were not going to be married, et al. It tore through the I-bank I worked at, scaring admins and female bankers into relationships that they are now trying to extract themselves from. Just because some book said you have to be in a serious relationship by 25 to get married by 28 to have babies by 30, etc etc.

Anyhow, I am treating the information of -- the first 3 months you lose the most, you stop losing after a year, your likelihood of not being a statistic is 2%...... as if it is real and the same as the you muct be married book. It's just information and opnion. What's real is that my clothes are falling off, I am back in the dating game, I go out every night, and have the life that I love, with smaller clothes and better friends. By sheer will I will keep the weight off, because I will take care of myself this time and make choices I can be proud of myself about.

On the other hand, I know I don't have the broken bypass, but it should be more. Am I eating too much, or eating the wrong things? What should I be focused on? Should I exercise more? I want that feeling of whoosh, as it comes off, and my clothes are falling off.

It's just a head game. I know it's just a head game.

Okay, time to seek therapy. Get over the "you'll never be ____ enough". Add whatever adjective in there for the situation. Pretty, happy, good, patient, kind, charming, sexy powerful, smart, nice, blonde, skinny, curvy, conscience, conscientious, early. hip, cool, cute, etc etc etc.

Any advice on finding a therapist who deals with WLS patients? I am exhausted trying to explain what the surgery is, how it affects me-- I want someone that I don't have to explain my eating habits to. Who is going to take care of the internal un-reorganized me. An emotional organizational consultant, if you will.

On a whole other note-- went out last night with a bunch of old co-workers. I looked great. They looked great-- it was awesome to see them. One of them said "What am I having half of?" knowing that I can only eat a couple bites before full. This made me love her even more. Ya know-- I don't really miss drinking so much. I thought it would be worse-- but to be honest, I don't miss it.

My obligatory I can now shop at a department store story

I have a wedding this Sunday, a wedding (in Mexico City) at the end of October, and then my beautiful cousin Cassie's wedding in March. But this isn't about weddings. It's about shopping.

Tonight on my way home I thought I should try to see if Bloomingdale's had a dress I could maybe possibly wear. I know they only go up to 22's and I haven't fit into a 22 in a while. Like maybe 10th grade. While I was talking to mom on the cell, I gathered the dresses and Tatiana took them into the changing room. Yes, I was that girl on the phone talking to her mom who was just being so damn cute, I couldn't not talk to her-- while the Russian sales woman is setting up the room. I am totally a queen.

Also realize, it is "the" Bloomie's in NYC, and I work down the street from it. Which means most of the workers are career salespeople. They known their job well, it's a craft. And at 8pm they are not chasing you out of the store, or flicking on and off the lights, they are helping you decide on your purchases very nicely and efficiently.

But at Christmas-- a whole different story.

Tried the first one on. It fit. And so on and so on. All the dresses fit. Some were a little too big, some were a little too small. I looked great in them. I switched one to a 20, and it still looked great.

But then my mind starts playing tricks-- "Oh they all have stretch in them, that's why you can wear them-- they are not true sizes-- they make the 22's the biggest to compensate for the big rich ladies who don't want to admit that they are plus sized and shop at (god forbid) the LB."

And I told my mind to go sit in a corner and play with the evil gas bubble that has been terrorizing me for days.

Victory. I can shop at Bloomingdales. I, however, cannot afford to buy there.

Did I get any dresses? No. I know exactly what I am wearing to this wedding-- a nice 50's party dress with the bolero from Torrid I got in July. It still looks great, I can curly up my hair, and dance in my new silver ballet shoes from the LB. And I didn't have to spend a dime for the really really happy victory of "I can shop at a department store."

Soon, I will go back and purchase the black cocktail dress when it is on sale, and I have a coupon. And I'll slip a $20 to Tatiana for helping me find it months ago.

My obligatory I can now shop at a department store story. FU to those that sideline this victory. I've been trying for years to make LB, AVE and Catherine's work for me-- and doing a good job. Now, more options-- which is why the surgery was done in the first place-- more options..... the first one being to live.

I'm living. With evil gas bubble, but living.

Product Whore

I am of huge fan of Melting Mama and read her stuff every day, every couple hours, because that woman can post. One of her favorite things for breakfast is the ISS Oh Yeah Wafer bars-- so I naturally thought I'd try them. Because she loves them, and so far, I have gotten good advice from her and her blog.

Ummm. Yeah. Really stinking good.

I went to both the GNC and Vitamin Shop in the neighborhood-- both stores had no idea what bariatric surgery was, and both tried to sell me Hoodia for weight management. Umm, no. However, the Vitamin Shop did have an assortment of both Oh Yeah and Power Crunch. And for about $20 I got one of each kind. To test. And get all my protein in.

OMIGOD. It's good. In a "I wish I could each a mellow candy bar" kind of way. Last night I have the mint choc from Iss. Yumm. This morning the French Vanilla from Power Crunch. Yumm Yumm. For being about 6 weeks out from surgery, it breaks down easy enough, the flavors are nice, and I don't have to choke down more isopure to get in all my protein.

And I like it. It's the right size for the purse, it's cheaper than buying a sandwich at the deli (which I will only eat half of excluding the bread) and almost tastes like a candy bar.

Thanks MM for introducing me to a whole new way to get in the protein.

Botanical Garden

I went a-walking, and a-hiking, and a-walking today. I took pictures......

I looked at all the flowers, and actually stopped to smell the roses.

Funny thing, I can see me losing weight. Through the photos.

I'm liking this a lot.....

Living the Juicy Life!

This week was an interesting one. Every night I have had something to do-- dinner, movies, coffee, workout-- so I am just getting used to being home and relaxing. I watched a great documentary called "Control Room", and rather than get into a political discussion, I will say that it opened my eyes to what the news really is.

Today I re-did my shoes. Meaning I threw out a bunch. My feet, after only 40 or so pounds, are not as wide, and not as swollen. So the ones that are too big, I tossed. The ones that I got "just in case" I tossed. There are a couple I am still hanging onto because they are sexy, fun or useful for a specific outfit.

I tried on a pair of size 24 jeans that I haven't been able to wear for 2 or 3 years. And they fit. They don't look great, so I'll wait another couple weeks, but wow.

I think I am going to dig into my closet and get real with the clothes I like, and the ones I don't, and do a purge. It's time.

No more living "for now". No more. Everything I own I want to love-- from the furniture I sit on, to the clothes I wear, to the food in my body to the lotion on my skin. Everything else gets tossed.

I feel I am getting ready for another big change, and hanging onto stuff just has me hang onto stuff. Which includes weight and emotions and etc etc. I want the space for a juicy delicious relationship that I love, with a hunky charming passionate man who adores me. It's just about creating it!

I'll let you know how it goes. Well, at least about the clutter clear.

Just Angry

I had a not so great conversation at work today with my boss, and I end up crying on the phone to Christine for no good reason except to vent. I just want to vent.

Yesterday at my session with TK, the ex came up. A lot. I don't write about him much because he's an ex. And he broke my heart, and energetically he is still around and I can't shake him. So maybe, just maybe, if I am honest and tell you, then his energy will go away.

I am going to journal about him first. As honestly and completely as I can, not smoothing over anything. And pray for health and help for him. Or else TK is going to kick his energetic ass.

I love being back in session with TK. He's good-- multidimensional therapy. It's a lot of different modalities that kick my butt and make me laugh and cry and kick my feet. Can't really google multi-dimensional therapy. You just have to be there and it happens.

I went to the gym tonight. 30 mins of treadmill walking. During the Biggest Loser-- I love that show. Now I'll walk with them and not sit on my couch smoking/eating and judging. I'll be right there with them, with the help of my internal re-org. Ha ha!

This is the first time I have been to the gym in a long while. After 5 mins of uncomfortable, it was fine. I have to remember it is always fine. Everyone is looking, but no one is really looking. For now it's just walking, but soon it will be more.

Angry angry angry. I want to go back and never have met the ex-- knowing that was a slippery slope to go down. I want to be open and loving, and am still hanging onto his faults because I want to crucify him over and over. I want a relationship, and yet I hang onto this one because I can prove "I am not worth it-- see even he though so-- he married someone 6 months after we broke up and I still tried to be friends with him. He replaced me. I am not worth it."

I am so fucking worth it. I don't believe that fully yet, but godamn it, when I do fucking watch out.

I am agry that I can't eat this away, drink it away or smoke it away. Thank god for small little things like taking care of myself. Otherwise I would be sitting behind a plate of food with a side of Parliment lights for the week.

Okay, not so angry anymore. Thanks.

The Yoga Pants

About a year ago I was wearing my favorite work pants-- black with a light blue pinstripe and a knit top. Sitting down to my normal breakfast of the morning (2 eggs, ham and cheese on a buttered roll, large coffee with milk and sugar-- over the amount of calories and fat I take in a whole day now) I split the seam of the pants. Mortified and upset, I told my boss (after of course, finishing my breakfast and doing some work) that I had to go get another pair of pants because mine had split.

I went to the Avenue about 7 blocks away, walking in sandals in the humidity. When my swollen body got to the store, the only pair I fit of pants I fit into were a size 28 yoga pant with some detailing on the bottom. Nice pants-- comfy like sweats, and I wouldn't be able to rip them.

These pants have traveled the world with me-- Shanghai, Miami, Chicago, Beijing, Buenos Aires, CT, Paris and London. I tour the cities in them, I sleep in them, then I have hotels launder them. I pack them lovingly into my suitcase next to treasures and adventures. I wear them at home, I go walking in my city in them. I love them.

After one trip, I washed them myself. They shrank a bit in the length. So now they look like high water yoga pants. I put them away for a while. Lovingly, but away until I "lost some weight".

Last night, I found them. I put them on, did a modern dance and an "ode to the detailed yoga pant" poem. And then I walked out of them. This morning I found them at the bottom of my bed. And now, if I get up from this chair, in two steps they will be at my knees.

Yup.

Goodbye beautiful yoga pant. I never yoga'ed enough for you......

The best bit of protein on the Planet

Today is beans. All day, beans beans beans.

When in NC last week, Mom made her famous ranchhouse beans that Grampa used to have at the restaurant (back in the 60's). I always hated it because I thought they were marinated beans-- like with vinegar and califlower-- but NO. They are not.

Here is the recipe.

2 cans dark red kidney beans
1/2 cup mayo (must be mayo for your miracle whipper's)
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 Large white onion, finely chopped

Drain but don't rinse beans, put in bowl, add everything else. Mix until a little soupy, without breaking the skins. Chill for a couple hours. And YUM!

Mom and pop like this with steak on Saturday nights. So do I if I ate steak (not yet).

And then, of course, I am making bean soup. Yummo. For the week. God bless my cubicle mate.

In other news, I am wearing size 18-20 tops from the LB. What what? Oh yeah. And a size 6 blue denim. Whatever there new sizes mean.

There is a lady at the LB around the corner who is a hag. And mean. Never takes me in line. Yesterday I asked-- is there a problem-- she wouldn't even look at me. I asked again. She said rudely-- No. I said good, and then asked who the manager of the store was, who the general manager was and so on. She gave me a 30% discount.

I might be blonde, but sweetheart, I'm a bitch. No doubt about that.

Quiet Moments

As everyone else in the world, I too hate getting up for work. I just have so much to do and not enough time, etc. The thing is, I adore my job. I like it, it's comfortable, I get to see the world, and I am very good at it. But getting up before 6:30 is just painful.

However this morning wasn't so bad. Creating my day in my head for the optimum goal, to do as much as I can, no stress, and get back into the work cycle completely. I need that. Laying in my comfy bed and listening to the birdies, thinking over how I want things to go.

I stepped on the scale. Down 3 pounds from last night. Okay, the bypass isn't completely broken.

Is it possible I was eating too little? Maybe?

I love September. I want to go out and buy new notebooks and trapper keepers. Maybe a new bookbag, a turtle neck in a fall color and a jumper with wooly tights. That is back to school. Instead, I am going to wear out the suits until they fall off my ass, and then maybe pick out something spectacular come mid September.

I like the quiet moments. I want more of them, creating my day.

Off to work. Then home by 6:00, dinner at 6:30, walk at 7:15, living room clean up at 8:00, bill paying 8:30 and bed by 10pm.

Labor Day

I went to NC for the holiday weekend and discovered some new amazing things.

1) Bread isn't a good idea.
2) Neither are crackers, but they do go down well. Refrain from all crackers.
3) I can eat ground meats-- turkey, hamburger and chicken with no issue. Pot Roast on the other hand.... hmmm, not so much.

I still think my bypass is broken, and my mother watched me LIKE A FUCKIN' HAWK over everything I put in my mouth. Because she's 8 months out and I am apparently doing it all wrong.


"Mom do you want some cheese"
"No, i don't eat cheese it's too fatty and I'd never lose weight. Maybe that's your problem."
"Okay, never mind."
"Kimmie I am just teasing. Can't you take a joke?"

Sometimes I just hate her. And then I realize that she doesn't know how to love me any differently, and she wants me to succeed. If she could get past teasing me about everything, I might be able to stop reacting like a 16 year old. The teasing is old. Get off the cross Ma, we've got a fire going on over here and need the gosh darned wood.

Okay, enough about that. I lost 4.3 pounds while I was away. And I have my period, kind of. I keep waiting for it to be like... normal. It's really really light. I hope it's like that forever from now on.

I love my calcium chews. Like bits of candy. I save them for treats. Probably not the best thing to do with supplements, but whatever.

I need a nap from the 10 hour car ride. All that napping requires some more napping.

Okay, I don't really hate my mom. I just want to have out the big argument with her and have her be sensitive and generous and kind and not tease me. Have her see the impact of her emotional stunts, and create a new relationship.

Or I could find the lost city of Atlantis.........