The Power of Eleven

Although odd numbers creep me out (who knows why???), I'm gonna embrace this freaky number and herald in the New Year with 11 Wacky Intentions.

In 2011, I want....

1.  11 more lbs gone from my life...FOR GOOD...never to return again.  Hit the road Jack, and dontcha come back no more, no more, no more, no more!!!
2.  11 more blogs to read of women whose daily life inspire me, surprise me, or just plain'o amuse me.
3.  Lipgloss...11 more shades...definately!
4.  11 more followers on this blog...
5.  11 more good books to read...
6.  11 fewer gray hairs might be nice too.........
7.  11  trips to the pool...feeling comfortable in my skin
8.  11 protein shakes...and THAT'S it!  bleckkkk!!!
9.  11 compliments about my changing physique...
10.  ...and then give away those 11 compliments to other women who really need it as much as I do...
11.  11 months of perfect restriction!!!

Happy 2011!!!

%$#! Exercise

I hate it.  As simple as that.  So please don't try to convince me otherwise.  It'll only make me hate you, too.  But I know it works...And it's good for you (eye roll!...sigh!)  But still.  I hate it.  However, after an overloaded carbo-sweet-holiday-orgy-athon, it's time for some restraint and moderation, a semblance of living with intention and purpose.  And in spite of how much I hate exercise, I have in the past had some success with it.  So I am going to resurrect my annual January challenge to walk for 31 days in a row-10 minutes (minimum) daily.  And yes, it's the worst time of year for cold, miserable, unpredictable weather.  And although my daily goal of 10 minutes may seem pathetic to some-it's not the intensity of exercise that I'm trying to accomplish-or really even weight loss.  My real challenge is about keeping a promise to myself-to honor my commitment to self-just as I would keep a promise to a friend.  How is it that we will kill ourselves to keep our word to others but so casually lie, defraud, defy, and let down ourselves???  So my January challenge is about honoring my intentions, making them a priority, and practicing  sacrifice in spite of my (temporary & mild) discomfort. 

So here's to thirty one days-thirty one promises kept!!!  Woohoo!!!  ...and please expect some whining & bitching... just keeping it real, folks.

Therapy? or Not...?

Like most lapbanders, I had my required psych eval and some therapy before surgery.  This was a painful process for me since I'm a private, can-handle-it-myself kinda gal.  And although I only had 5 sessions, these sessions went deep into the quick and marrow of my soul-a murky, sad place at best.  And of course it stirred up the silt on the bottom and clouded my view of myself... but strangely gave me some clarity as well.  But because the process was so painful and brought my issues to the surface-which made them harder to shove down into those murky depths and ignore-I jetted out of the therapist's office as soon as I had my approval letter for surgery, vaguely promising to make another appointment as soon as I "recovered."  Well....since then I've spent a lot of time thinking about therapy...and whether I should return...or not.  One of the surprising things about those sessions is that we never discussed weight loss or some of the relationships that I thought were driving my eating...  And to her credit, this therapist was nobody's fool.  Charming, clever, funny, and smart didn't work on her...  Her persistent nudging and refusal to follow my false leads took me into scary, new territory.  And I respect that.... kinda.  So as 2011 approaches and I think about new goals (both weight loss & personal), I am wrestling with the therapy issue.  Does all that talking really matter?  It certainly doesn't alter the facts...  Do I want to resurrect old demons?  Can they really be slain and buried...for good???  I guess the fact that I even ask the question is answer enough...  I NEED therapy.  I just don't WANT it. So it looks like in 2011 I will be waging two battles:  one for my physical health and another for my soul's liberation.  ...sigh...

Weak Resolve

RESOLVE:  Today I am going to throw out all the sweet holiday food (crap) in my house.  ...Except maybe for the yummy white chocolate M&M chex mix...  Oh, the anxiety!!!  It's gotta go too...  But I  LOVE it!  Nope... it's going too...  I think...

REPEAT:  You don't need this junk because ...you are NOT a trash can...you are NOT a trash can... you are NOT a trash can....

Big Spill

Big kid spilled an entire glass of orange juice all over the breakfast area which instantly ignited parental fuses...of course.  Quickest way to piss off an adult???  Spill a sticky beverage that requires cleaning on hands and knees multiple times over the course of a month... %$#!.  Anyhoo....  Lil brother rushes to the scene of the accident, assures big kid it'll be okay, hustles over with paper towels and windex, and starts a one man clean up operation.  And he actually handles it...  as big kid kinda mopes around in slow-mo watching the orange stain spread closer and closer to the carpet....  As lil brother makes his last trip to the laundry area, I praise him for his quick thinking and selfless actions, strangely pleased at his display of fraternal loyalty.  "Dat oughta get me off me off the naughty list, huh mom?"  Well...I guess it does.  Just in time.

Most Dangerous Time of the Year

In years past the holiday season has been my most dangerous time of the year for packing on the pounds...literally 20 or more at a time...and of course they came to stay for the entire year unlike the ribbon, boxes, and bows that got thrown out in the trash.  The season would kick off with Halloween candy and chili potlucks and move right into the over-stuffed turkey season with rich trimmings that lasted for weeks which glided into Christmas fudge and cookie swaps and  required holiday food orgies that posed as parties....  Ahhhh!  The Good ol' Days!!!.... not really.  Dreading the holiday pictures, avoiding the camera, not fitting into anything in the closet,  buying a bigger size and praying you look thinner (yeah, right...), stuffing yourself into hot sweaters and tights and boots while drenched in the fat-sweats, and always feeling tired and run down from the frenetic sugar crashes which made you search out more sugar just to feel  "normal" again..  Ugh...what's to love about all that over fed guilt and shame???  Hence, the decision to try the lapband and maybe,  just maybe, wage the final good bye to those pounds....

Currently (since the end of Sept) I have lost 26-28 lbs (depending on time of day/month).  And what a relief it is!  Old clothes feel new again.  People are beginning to notice and pay compliments.  I can gaze into the mirror and actually look myself in the eye for a few seconds longer than usual...  And I am beginning to recognize the outline of this girl who is my authentic self.  Although she's still a little bleary and fuzzy around the edges...  What has been remarkable to me since my October surgery has been the relief from the mental agony of gritting my teeth through another round of "dieting" and self loathing and fighting and scratching and clawing for every desperate lost pound-knowing I am hanging by my fingertips over the abyss destined for failure-again.  And truthfully, the weight loss has been soooooooooooooo  slowwwwwwwww and gradual, and I have hit plateaus...  but then the scale would move of its own accord with no warning...  Although I have only had one fill as of this writing (I am anxiously awaiting my Jan 3rd appt), I can tell there is some restriction, just enough to keep that last morsel or serving at bay.  Yes, I have had an episode (...or two or three of sliming and pb'ing...), and I am "breaking" some lapband rules.  I eat too much too fast...  gotta work on that...  But not as much as before...

So I consider it a "miracle" of sorts that I have journeyed through a holiday season and actually lost/maintained weight instead of bloating into a sadder more desperate failure.  Who knew it could be possible???  So although I have many miles (...and pounds) to go, I feel hopeful this holiday season...and inspired by so many of you as we all continue to quest for our better selves.

Blessings to you all!

Time-the Perfect Gift

Hubby and I started a new holiday thank-you tradition last year for our adult friends with kids.  We invite all the kids to our home for a holiday party from 5-10 PM so that the adults can finish shopping, go out to eat, to a movie, or get some wrapping done.  And of course the kids LOVE IT-especially our sons who live for house parties.  All the sisters make Christmas ornaments, paint fingernails, put on dance shows, have long conversations about boys, and play with the kitten while the brothers play video games, flashlight tag and nerf wars while chasing the dog through the mud.  And yes-it's a wild evening.  Not gonna lie.  And of course dinner is on the house.  This year-spaghetti, salad, corn, french bread, multi variety popcorns and sweet treats-to everyone's delight.  But the best part of the night, is seeing our adult friends picking up their kids looking so relaxed, rejuvinated, stress free (shopping DONE!), and sliding into the holidays a little more rested and prepared.  Like many families, we have to carefully watch our pennies and could not possibly afford to "buy" our friends the gifts we would love to give them.  But an evening out while their kids are safely (...mostly!) entertained is a budget friendly alternative with priceless dividends.  The gift of giving "time" to others is probably the best adult gift of all...

BTW-I know I need to update on weight related stuff.... but honestly.... I am really enjoying living my life without food/weight being my primary source of joy/stress this season...  and I do have a lot to say about that....maybe later!

Blessings!

Hell & Agony

I KILLED myself getting ready to host our family Thanksgiving dinner: shopping, food prep, decorating, cleaning, getting the kids & hubby ready, and a million other hostessing chores...  Company was arriving, the house was bustling with activity, the food was 10 minutes away from being served piping hot...  when I snatched a juicy morsel of turkey meat from the platter hubby was carving-crispy skin an' all-and chomped & gulped in a single swallow.  And that was THE END of my Thanksgiving.  I knew it instantly by the agony & hell of the red hot poker that was stabbing & radiating screaming pain from the center of my chest.  So I delayed the prayer by 10 minutes, politely excused myself to my room to "freshen up," and gagged and heaved and sweated and PB'ed and slimed for all I was worth ....so this is what all those blogging gals have been talking about... and still the agony wouldn't let up.  When I came out of my room, I had barf dribble on my dress, my cardigan was inside out (my niece informed the entire room), my eyes were swollen, my make up smeared, and my eyes glazed, and my hair twisted in a sweaty knot.  And it went downhill from there.  I filled a plate (even though my shoulder/collar bone had a screaming knot of agony in it) and tried to sit and eat and have polite conversation when all I wanted to do was take off my tights and dress and lay on the cool floor naked and slime til the end of time ...So this is how the cat  feels when she's working up a hairball... Instead I excused myself five more times from the table...  each time returning to the table looking more strung out, stained, red & puffy, and sweaty than the time before.  I couldn't even pretend to carry on a conversation let alone take a sip of water...which instantly came back up.  And I ran...  Y'all I am a big believer in manners and grace under fire...  But I ain't gonna lie...I was a HOT MESS.  I was acting more suspicious than a crack whore at a baptism...  and would have gladly traded places with one at the moment.

Laws y'all...  worst experience EVER.  But somehow I paced and slimed and PB'ed my way through Thanksgiving-even changed out of my barf stained dress and managed to keep my tights on.  It was about 4 hours later when I could finally manage to eat a small plate. By then it had all dried out of course from sitting out on the counter...

So it's official: I am now in the PB/Slime LB Club and even survived the drooling in public initiation.  Thank the Lord, IT'S DONE.  If I don't see another turkey for 10 years, it will be too soon...

Moving Along...

I am officially down 20 lbs, and people are starting to notice-which is nice.  Jeans are getting looser and its more fun to dress now.  I actually have more options in my own closet!  Tommorow I am wearing a super cute high waisted purple dress to a family event....and actually looking forward to it!  Feeling more comfortable in my own skin sure feels nice again.

My first fill was a little dread inducing.  The doc was running behind well over an hour and my nerves were starting to fray thinking about the long needle and someone pushing on my port.  Six weeks later and I am finally able to sleep and move around without noticing it.  But I still don't like any pressure on it.  It's kinda weird carrying a lil piece of hardware in your belly...   I feel very protective over my lil alien.  Anyhow-the doc finally shows up and has the grace to apologize for his tardiness and we get to the  business at hand:  the numbing needle had a little sting but the port fill wasn't bad at all.  Although sitting up to take a test drink of water with a needle hanging out of my belly was a little disconcerting.  The doc recommended a 2 day liquid diet after this first fill-but ya'll-I can't do it!  I am in total liquid protein rejection and have managed to eat 2 meals and a snack today-with no problems.  Drinking my meals makes me c-r-a-z-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e...  Anyhoo-my goal is to lose 6 lbs in the next 6 wks.  With Thanksgiving around the bend,  that may be a lil tricky...  Holiday eating in year's past have been my downfall.  So I'm skeptical yet hopeful...!

Scam

Had a minor come-apart last night and hubby got to be my emergency therapist...  What if this weight loss thing is all a SCAM and I never lose this weight at all?!?  My biggest fear verbalized...  For some reason my weight loss has stalled...  I even gained back 4 lbs...dropped two...but can't seem to push back down to my lowest number...  So this has kicked over the crazy train in my head, and I'm desperately looking for "tricks" to thwart my metabolism into MOVING... dammit!  But drinking shakes and eating only protein makes me crazy...as in certifiable...

So I'm 20 days post surgery (first fill in 2 wks), and I really thought I would have more downward momentum at this stage of the game.  But it looks like I'm gonna have to claw my way through every freakin' pound...

Belated BYOC

On to this week’s BYOC – Bring Your Own Crazy – where we answer 5 little questions to get to know each other better. Copy to your blog and enjoy!

1. Tell me about someone you envy.
Anyone living in Rome...
Anyone who doesn't have to color the gray outta her hair...
Skinny bitches who eat whatever the hell they wanna.  DIE! DIE! DIE!

2. What makes you angry?
a cluttered dirty house...
mounds of laundry...arghhhh!!!
people who don't put their kids' needs ahead of their own

3. In an effort to help so many that seem to be blue and sad….what do you do when you feel very sad or depressed?
take a mile high bubble bath
sit in the warm sunshine
listen to my Ipod-Dolly & Patsy & Lee Ann & Lady Antebellum
take a drive with the top down on my convertible
a new toe nail color...s'riously the BEST therapy!  I'm currently sporting a gothic black for Halloween...

4. If you were stranded on a lonely beach, what five things would you want with you to survive (not people)?
cheeseburger with mustard, pickle, and a big slice of onion-french fried potatoes and a cold glass beer (thanks Jimmy Buffet!)
a hammock
a good, looooooooooooooooooooooooooong book
sunglasses
lip gloss (of course!)
And nobody better come to the rescue...dammit!

5.  Week in blog land:
I got "stuck" yesterday.  I thought my ribs were gonna crack open.  I had so much pressure it even gave me a headache.  I was pretty miserable for a few hours.   Also I've not lost weight in several days (2 wks banded).  I'm becoming a slave to the scales again....ugh!  But I can't seem to walk away...

Last Supper

So hubby had an idea for a blog post. 
"How 'bout telling them 'bout all those Last Suppers you had?"
Me:  open mouth, wide eyed....feeling a little uncomfortable.... thinking 'oh shit...!'
Hubby:  "Remember the first one?  The one at Cheddars?
Me:  ...happy glow as I recall that heaping plate of carbs...
Hubby:  "Let's see....what was the second one???  Oh yeah!  McDonald's fish fillet with supersize fries and ketchup."
Me:  guilt closes in...but, Oh God!  was it ever worth it... I NEEDED that fish fillet, dammit...
Hubby:  "And then the final one?  The night before your surgery???  That big ol' BBQ sandwich with cole slaw at the football game???"
Me:  feeling nostalgic...a beautiful memory...one that I will always cherish...

So there it is ya'll.  The awful truth:  I had not one, not two, but THREE LAST SUPPERS!  And each one was glorious!!!  I'd like to say that I was racked with guilt each time...  But I think we all know the truth here.  I was licking BBQ sauce off my elbow at that football game...  and not Jesus or Moses or the Archangels were gonna separate me from that sandwich...

Ahhhh.... the glory days...!  And I guess that's why I refuse to sit in guilt or shame but boldly embrace my bad, bad self during those struggling days of the 12 day liquid torure diet.  Those stuffing-myself-silly-days are over, and in the prophetic words of that famous philospher Bugs Bunny, "That's All Folks!"

Day 6 Post-op

I'm playing hookie from school and taking off the next 3 days.  I guess I could've gone back to work but I really wanted to be completely rested before going back to hanging with 145 teengers-which is not a sit-in-your-chair kinda job that you need to be hung over or hunched over while performing.  Gotta be on your toes and ready to crack the whip with this wiley group...  So I'm in my bathrobe today watching tivo's, surfing the net, and having some peace and quiet.  Might go to the library and lunch later with hubby...

Here are a few milestones so far:

bandages are off and my skin looks pretty good...
the gas pains are subsiding...
I am gently getting used to eating "real" foods again...slow and steady...
I am losing weight....
My bloated belly is starting to deflate...

And I am sooooo glad that I have made this decision.  I feel like just maybe I might have a handle on this thing...

In the Club

Laws a'mercy...  Am I ever so glad to have survived that surgery!?!  It's kinda like having a baby-nobody is ever gonna tell ya' exactly just how bad it is.  You just gotta live through it best you can.  Every time some nurse pushed her way into my pre-op room, I knew there would be a fresh horror to contend with-and a needle to go with it.  Down here in the south we have a term for those who just can't seem to "handle it."  And since I'm a big believer in calling it like it is, it's fair to say that I'm what they call a "titty-baby" when it comes to all things medical.  I did not handle my surgery with aplomb and elegance and dignity as many of you probably did.  I sniffled and cried my way through it-and even earned an extra valium because of it.  And the first night home was sheer hell-sore collar bone, bruised lips, constantly needing to pee but couldn't, five fire pokers in my belly, and feeling antsy and nervous as a black cat on Halloween night...

Here's hubby's report that he texted to my gal-pals just after my surgery:

"...She's gorked out on drugs and in lala land.  When I walked in she opened one eye and said I need some lip gloss...She didn't get it... The nurse said ice chips only.  So Donna says, "Shit!  Set me up in this bed and hand me the lip gloss!"  And she got what she wanted... 

So here's the real truth:  I was a HOT MESS.  But at least I was a HOT MESS with my lip gloss ON.  Best not to mess with a southern-belle-titty-baby and her lip gloss...

Glad to be an OFFICIAL bandit in spite of all that whining...!

Approval & Corndogs

OMG! OMG! OMG!   ...It happened...  I'M APPROVED FOR SURGERY!!!  On the very date that I was shooting for on my fall break from school (October 6th)...  And I am so excited and relieved and ready to get this show on the road...

So I send out a broadcast text to my closest pals, the hubby notifies the grandmother/babysitter, and we call an emergency family meeting to explain the recent breaking news to our 8 & 12 year old sons.  While going through the intinerary for Wendesday, the 12 year old wanders off to make toast, leaving the 8 yr old wildly waving his arm above his head to ask me a question like I'm his 3rd grade teacher.  When I finally call on him, he asks, "Can I have a corndog now?"

So there you have it-reality at its best.  I'm changing my life, and my son wants a corndog.  So much for allaying their fears!

I am so glad this moment has happened... and thanks to all my friends who have listened to me bitch and moan about the whole freakin' process.  Ya'll have been worth your weight in gold.  And most importantly-a million thanks to hubby who relentlessly pestered the #*%! out of the insurance company until they couldn't take it another minute...and hit the approval button just so he'd never call again. 

Love ya bunches!!!

Liquid Torture Part Deux

OK-one week later:  so I'm not dead.  In spite of my theatrics.  But let me be clear:  LIQUID DIETS SUCK!!!  But OK-they're survivable....barely.  And although I have not been a scale Nazi, I'm pretty sure I'm losing weight.  It takes all my concentration to do this diet, so I've been avoiding the scales because I don't wanna be more PISSED than what I already am.  As in, "I've only lost 7 lbs?!?  WTF?!?!  I should have lost 50 lbs this week!!!"  You get the crazy picture...

Hopfully insurance will be calling me soon and making this liquid torture worth it. 

Maybe by next week, I will be an "official"  bandit...!

Taming my Inner Fat Lady

My inner fat lady (aka:  Rowanda) has been throwing some royal tantrums about going on this liquid diet.  She is totally kicking and screaming about giving up food.  I try to keep her in lock-down but as soon as I turn my back, she busts through my psychological door pleading and begging and blubbering for a double McFish fillet from McDonald's...and she won't let up...she wants fries with that too....supersize.  I wish the bitch would give it up cause she's totally messing with my head.  Staying the course with her ain't easy...

So I've taken to long drives in the country in my Cutie Pie PT cruiser convertible listening to Keith Urban croon to me in his dreamy Australian accent...taken a mile-high bubble bath....painted my toenails gothic black...picked up one of the novels that's been hanging around my nightstand far too long...and even eyed my landscaping...a little weeding might be in order...

Most importantly I spent the evening with a group of women who feed my soul.  And yes there was pizza and beer and chips and hotwings...a gorgeous spread!!!  My inner fat lady actually kicked her heels in joy and licked her lips in anticipation...but I put her in a head lock, poured my protein shake, and settled down for some storytelling, gossiping, & therapy/advice sessions mixed with a whole lotta laughing and hootin'...  And I left there without a morsel passing my lips....content and at peace.  Completely full of love for every last one of them.  Who knew that joy could possibly happen without stuffing your face?!?

Maybe I can do this...

Liquid Hell

Liquid Hell Day 1: got mad then sad...crying jag...went to bed early...talked in my sleep all night (says hubby)

Liquid Hell Day 2:  hanging on to my sanity by my fingernails...wild-eyed and nervous...

Liquid Hell Day 3:  outwardly calm... barely keeping my crazy to myself... then walked through the door and ate a cup of pinto beans standing over the stove...and then wolfed down several slices of SPAM like a rabid dog.  Haven't eaten SPAM (wth?!?) since I was 8 years old...but I still figure my calories for the day are way under 1200...  or at least I am telling myself this...

Liquid Hell Day 4:  (head in hands...)  back on the wagon...Oh hell!!!

So it begins...

Meeting with surgeon....check.
Meeting with another dietician (sigh)...check.
Support group class...check.
Meeting with insurance lady (sigh)....check.
Meeting with nurse...check.
Starting liquid diet....arghhhh!!!!...CHECK!!!

Last night I went out for my "last supper" of the next 6-8 weeks.  I actually cancelled my therapy session so I could eat out (...wonder what my shrink would say 'bout that?!?).  But there was NO WAY I was missing this event.  We shared & enjoyed appetizers, I had the salad (why?!?), and when the entree came-could only take a bite-and had to stop.  But I didn't force the issue.  I was done.  And actually I am ready to get this goat rodeo started.  I'm SICK of being this fat...  So in spite of the harsh nature of this liquid diet, I am completely at peace with this.  And yes, I'm sure that will change by day 3 and 7 and 13.  I'm gonna miss food-no doubt about it.  But my work friends are on notice, my family has been warned (no kitchen slut duties for me!), and the supplies have been purchased.  I'm also on hiatus from watching the Food Network channel (nothing good comes from that at night, btw).  So I am one protein shake down...and 1,342 remaining???  LOL!!! 

So it begins...

Progressing

'Member when you were at the end of your pregnancy, and you had dilated to 2 centimeters?  And you were so excited to do this thing, but really not far enough along for anything exciting to happen yet?  Well that's where I am in my lapband progress.  I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I had my 6th visit with my doc (hallelujah!).  Which means I have ticked off the 6 months of waiting time, passed my psych eval (dodged a bullet, rather!), and am now ready to see the surgeon next week to complete the last leg of this adventure (get me on the schedule, dammit!).  It was such a relief to leave my doc's office and NOT schedule ANOTHER monthly visit.   I love Dr Girlchild with her adorable stacked heels and hi-lites and cool outfits...  But it's time to move this thing along.  Only so much thinking and planning a girl can do...

Woohoo!!!  On my way...

Limbo

So the psych eval is done.  And I could tell she (the therapist) was ready to be shed of me too-after putting me in a holding pattern all summer long.  Sheesh! So now I'm waiting on the results which I'm sure will be fine.  I mean really-some of those questions were a little ridiculous.  You'd have to be stupid-or crazy-to fail that thing.  All 370 not so very subtle questions, btw.  So getting the freakin' eval done meant that FINALLY  I could call the surgeon and set up an appt.  So hubby makes the call for me, and the office lady sweetly tells him that it will be several months before I can even get in to see the doc-which is a problem because I'm shooting for surgery the 1st week of Oct-which is my break from school.  And I do NOT want to do this over Christmas break.  So hubby begs and pleads for an earlier appt-which she finally squeezes us in, but assures us getting the surgery scheduled quickly may be a problem...  So who knows at this point???  I have patiently been biding my time for 6 months, jumping every hoop as I come to it.  It hasn't been easy dangling on the end of strangers' ropes.  So yes, I'm a control freak who hates waiting on other people's time tables.  But dammit...  October or bust!

Blither Blather Bitchin'

Hey gals,
Check out my other (non weight related) blog:  blither blather bitchin'
This blog chronicles my mom-ventures and the frustrations of daily life as a worn out, working mom!

Thanks for the support!!!

"If you haven't got something nice to say, come sit by me."
from Steel Magnolias

Confession

I want to be thin. And I am commited to the LB surgery. But really-I don't want to do the work. I like eating what I want-when I want-how much I want. And I HATE exercise. So as the end of my 6 month "waiting" period is looming closer-and surgery is an around the corner reality-I KNOW this is a problem. My resolve has imploded beneath the addiction. And I'm in full fledged food-fantasy mode... But the self loathing, not being able to recognize myself in a mirror, avoiding new life experiences, hiding from friends and family and cameras-I'm sick of living like this too. I wish my resolve would renew itself and show a little backbone-dammit. But right now, I'm living in denial. I know that the LB is only a tool-and not a magic wand. Ultimately I have to do the work and make the choices. But I am struggling to believe that I can really do this... Who am I kidding??? I DON"T WANT TO GIVE UP FOOD!!! How pathetic is that?!?

I'm kinda glad that I won't be going back to the therapist until late September. Because if she knew what a scrambled up mess my head is in... she would bench me in a heart beat. And I wouldn't blame her. But I'm not telling...yet. Because maybe...just maybe...I don't really want to be thin. Oh, hell...

BYOC

It's back to school time for me which is a crazy-stressful-exhausting-hectic business. But believe it or not-i actually eat better when school is in session as opposed to full-out-no-rules summer. So I am actually looking forward to naturally being able to draw some boundaries.

Also, I have had my 5th appt with my MD and only one more to go. My psych-eval is scheduled for 2 wks...and then it's off to see the surgeon!!! When I first started this journey, I was so BUMMED that I had to wait 6 months...but the time has flown! And I'm glad. This is a big commitment, and I'm glad I've been given some time to "live with" this decision and let it simmer and percolate. So I am hopeful that I will soon be posting a surgery date. Maybe....just maybe...this is gonna happen!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now for some fun: BYCO!!!

1. “Which one would you rather?”…

Tom Cruise or
Tom Brady?
Duh?!? Tom Cruise, of course. Would love to know if he can live up to the hype. And you know that whole "Risky Business" was kinda hotttt.....

Mr. Big (Sex and the City) or
Tony Little (exercise nut)?
I guess I'm gonna have to go with Mr Big...because I'm not sure who Tony Little is...does this make me a nerd??? Not sure...

Whoopi Goldberg or
Making whoopi?
Making whoopi, definitely. It's fun-when done right-and it's a calorie burn too.

2. How do you feel about plastic surgery?
I'm all for it-but it scares the sh*t outta me. Especially boob reductions....ugh. My hubby has been prepping me for this reality.... but I am hoping that I won't need it.

3. What’s your favorite website?

Any trashy celebrity website will do...People.com...TMZ... you name it. I'm a sucker. Plus I am Real Housewives fan...so Bravo.com definitely makes the list.

4. What’s your best tip for having a great vacation?
Not sure yet. Since we have kids and are always on a budget. Being together as a family is what's important... and creating those memories. Even if the vacation sucks-there's still something to laugh about.

5. Repeat question….which blog or comment stuck with you the most this week and why?
Judi trying to plan her party and get 115 followers (she's lost 115 lbs!) with her hard-core planner. I hope she makes it!!!
http://judifromthismomenton.blogspot.com/

I Wish Wednesday

So glad for these prompts-btw! Currently I'm a stalled blogger who is lacking in all motivation and have nothing consequential to report...so please excuse the silliness and vanity of these "gumdrop fart" wishes. I know....even I am rolling my eyes...

1. I don't wanna go to school (said in a high, long whine). But I want to keep getting paid for sitting in my bathrobe watching my Tivo's...
2. I really want to wear a green bikini.
3. I want straight hair that gives humidity the middle finger.
4. I want to eat whatever whenever without having to pay the piper.
5. Ok-so I don't really need to win THE BIG LOTTERY....but a $100,000 would just 'bout do it for me.
6. One of these days my inner sassy girl is gonna match up with my sassy body-in that green bikini.
7. Ok, fine. World Peace could be really cool too...

Bitch session: Oh, and I am sick and damn tired of sweating over ever' lil thing I do...cleaning out closets, sitting in church, walking to the car. Why do I have to walk around with a sweat mustache everywhere I go??? When I lose this weight, I want to be a freakin' COLD skinny bitch...dammit...!!!

BYOC

Ok-I'm a little late-but I'm joinging the BYOC mania-love it!!! Here goes...

1. Let’s brag a little….what’s the best perk you’ve ever had in your job (current or past)? Any employment counts - even if you’re a stay at home mom – you have perks (and the hardest job ever in my opinion).
As a teacher I would have to say June and July are the greatest perks. Two months of FREEDOM!!!

2. Do you ever lie in your blog?
My mission is to be true to who I am and keep it real. Although it is tempting to sometimes stretch reality, it really serves no purpose.

3. What do you wear to bed?
I start off with a night gown until the nightime sweats strike...then it's game over.

4. Where do you go for advice?
Hubby...but man advice can be a little sketchy sometimes... I ususally listen to my inner voice and go with my gut.

5. Make someone a superstar without using a blog award. What comment or blog stuck with you the most this week and why?
Reading you all religiously! Soaking it in... You ALL inspire me daily with your losses and honesty.

Emotional Risks

Although I did a lot of whining about being stalled in my pre-lapband process by my therapy sessions, I have to confess: the therapy has been helpful. I even look forward to those sessions and feel grateful to have a therapist who is insightful and compassionate. But she's no push-over either. She is always digging-and never lets me off the emotional hook. So I'm not gonna lie-therapy is stressful and difficult at times. Admitting aloud to myself that I have abandonment and rejection issues which have resulted in subconscious self-loathing was a painful and excruciating process. You have to expose those demons before you can exorcise them. And there is nothing easy about that. But Thank God! I did it. I actually left her office last week with a sense of peace. Now however-she has proposed doing some grief therapy-and I am terrified and skeptical of this process. Having a case of the plague sounds preferable. But I have grudgingly agreed to trust her expertise and to yield to the process-God help me. My greatest fear is being overwhelmed. It's like heading out to the middle of a dark ocean during a hurricane knowing you will be capsized and sunk by 50 foot crashing waves-but someone has promised to throw you a life vest from a dinghy that you cannot see in the darkness. So honestly-I just want to get this over with... I'm keeping my eye on the horizon as I move forward.

Who to Tell

I always thought that celebrities who had weight loss surgery-yet wouldn't go on the record-were wimps and wienies and cowards. Until I decided that bariatric surgery was right for me. Then my mind starting churning. What will the hyper critical sister-in-law say? How will I deal with the the hyper concerned mother-in-law who is a worrier-and will put out a prayer APB to the ENTIRE family? Or my stoic family who looks down their noses at "those lazy" people with weight issues? Or my good friend who tells her kids, and then they tell their friends...? and the list goes on. I guess the reason that letting the cat out of the proverbial bag is so difficult is because of the shame I carry about being overweight. Deciding to have surgery means that I've acknowledged some painful issues: yes, I am fatter that I pretend to be; yes, my control and will power sucks; yes, I am easily defeated; yes, I am exhausted and sick of trying; yes, I tend to feel sorry for myself; yes, I eat my emotions instead of dealing with them. And yes-I NEED help. This issue is bigger than me. And therapy is helping me to wrap my brain around some of those issues and to even begin rejecting some of those self defeating thought patterns. Boy-this lifestyle choice is gonna take some work...and courage.

So last week at a girl's retreat, I shared this decision with some important women in my life. And their support and love were uplifting and affirming. And yes, I gave them permission to voice their concerns and to ask questions. Not gonna lie-I have them too. But it was a relief to share this "secret" with women who love me in spite of my shortcomings and are invested in my success and future happiness and trust that I am making this decision for the right reasons. So for all the haters and doubters and energy suckers in my life-screw'em. Because I really don't have the time and energy to spare. And we all know what a waste of time it is to try and please that crowd... Honestly-all I can do is go at this with all I've got. Come what may...or whatever they say.

Balance

Hope ya'll had a great 4th of July! We had a lot of fun in my neck of the woods. Down here in Nashville we take our Independence Day ve-ry seriously!

My crew went to our local park for music, bouncy activities, and a family picnic followed by the symphony and fireworks show. So I made homemade Carolina pulled pork BBQ as the entree, hubby made homemade salsa, and mom-n-law made her famous potato salad. It was a fabulous feast with lots of other fixin's as well. So even though food was going to be an important part of this event, I brought along magazines, books, cards, dominoes, a camera, and football. I wanted plenty of other things to do other than snacking and eating my way through the evening. So I enjoyed my meal and then moved on to other activities-I also abstained from dessert and perpetual chip noshing... I'm almost nervous to say this...but I think I achieved...balance. Food had its place. We gave it the attention and praise it deserved, but it wasn't the main focus. And ultimately this is really what I want to achieve with the lapband-the skills to enjoy food in small doses at the right times-and then be ready to move on to the really important stuff. Making food my purpose and joy is really an empty experience-even when I'm stuffing it in. I wanna be done with that. And last night was just a small taste of that freedom.

Aside: decided to enjoy a diet Pepsi for the holidays after a few weeks of abstaining. Only drank 4 sips. The first burning sip was almost overwhelming. But after that, I really just lost interest... I'm thinking this is getting easier...

Weekly Goal: I still need to work on my 7 PM snacking deadline and be more conscious and deliberate about saying NO to this useless emotional habit.

Back Slider

OK-I am a back slider. My new goal of not eating after 7:30 PM was broken-twice. Maybe it was the au gratin potatoes that did it (bad potato! bad potato! definitely a trigger food for this carb junkie)or the PMS that is setting up shop in my ovaries. Anyhoo... I plan to be back on the wagon tonight. Also I played in the pool for several hours yesterday with a little friend so I'm glad to have gotten some exercise at least.

As a non-banded newbie, I have a few questions for you bandits out there:

Liquid vitamins or solid?
Raw veggies? Salads? How possible is this...?
Steak? Do I just need to say my 'good-byes'...?

I appreciate the voices of experience chiming in here!

Pit Stop Eating-Delete!

I did something radical yesterday. I decided that there would be no pit-stop eating while doing my errands/activities around town. And as I thought about this-I truly began to see how often I do this. As a matter of fact-if I'm brutally honest-my food pit-stops are often my primary goal with the errand being secondary (pathetic!). So in an effort to get off this binging wagon, Wendy's or Subway would NOT be a detour. So here's how it went:

Library with my youngest son: We had fun picking out lots of books for him, and I located THREE historical fiction books that I am so excited to read! I also chatted with two friends while checking out. And as we were coming home around the bend, lil son says, "I like your hair. It has pizazz!" (ie auburn hi lites!) Now what could be a better reward than good books and friends and time with my man-child??? And to top it off...I have PIZAZZ!!!

Running to hubby's work to fax paperwork: It's dusk, so we decide to take my PT Cruiser convertible (Cutie Pie is her name!) cruising through the countryside. And there are some lovely things to see in my neck of the woods: fields and pastures, barns, rivers, dense green foliage, old homes and churches, tomato stands, cows and horses... and we even got to make a wish on the first star...and see all the colors of night sky....while driving with Fleetwood Mac playing and the wind in our hair.

I have decided that all that peace, contentment, and love... taste just right....all by themselves.

Therapy-Part Deux (oh hell!)

A few minor issues first:
Living without diet Pepsi is a lil rough right now. I want it-BAD. And almost without thinking-I found myself standing in front of the fully loaded garage fridge staring at them. But so far my will has persevered. Resisting this temptation is no so much about the beverage itself as much as practicing the habit of "no"...which totally sucks, right???

This week I have a new goal: stop eating after 7:30 PM. Nothing good happens with PM munching. This one is a real nagging bitch to deal with. So I'm watching more trashy reality TV (really, no chore) and surfing the Internet (again)... and staying away from the kitchen. Cause I WANT TO MUNCH OUT!!! ...sigh...

OK-The Biggie:
From my first posting you learned that I got benched on my psyche eval-an aborted failure. This hard-ass therapist wants me to work on some issues in regards to emotional eating before I have surgery and tossed me to a new therapist. But in the meantime, the clock is ticking towards my deadline and the surgeon won't meet with me until I have the psyche eval-and my blood pressure is increasing as I write this. (BTW-I personally want to know if there is a bandit out there WITHOUT food issues. Please step forward and identify yourself. And turn to face the firing squad.) ANYHOO... So I met with new therapist-who I like-and went through my personal history-AGAIN. Explained my goals, needs, triggers, AGAIN. And of course-it's therapy-which means you're gonna feel like a wrung out wash cloth when its done with you. So maybe I'm whining (I reserve the right, dammit), but mucking through this barn is not gonna be fun. Necessary-probably-that I concede. But last night, guess what I dreamed about???? THERAPY! I was in therapy ALL FRIGGIN' NIGHT LONG!

God save the queen...

They Like Me!!!

To all you recent followers who have stopped by-THANK YOU!!! It's not easy being the new kid on the block. And as I read your blogs, I was sooooo envious of the camaraderie and rapport and support you give one another on this really difficult (shitty!) journey of weight loss. So thanks ya'll for opening the doors-girl clubs can be a lil tricky, ya know??? This is totally more excitin' than sorority rush!!! I feel like running around the blogosphere shouting, They like me! They like me! They like me! Cause the real truth is, I need ya'll a whole lot more than you need me...

Thank God the cavalry showed up! Cause this here battle is gonna be a long, grueling BITCH!!!

Small Victory

It was all I could do yesterday to walk away from the garage fridge where my stash of frosty cold bubbly diet Pepsi's were artfully arranged-ready to be consumed in a single, swift grab. Had someone gotten in my way-I would have smacked them down-without remorse. But I resisted. Turned my back. And walked away. A small victory. And really not one worth even mentioning. Not exactly a good vs evil moment... But it was about CONTROL. So my mantra this week is CONTROL YOURSELF. I'm putting on the proverbial brakes and purging THE LAST SUPPER binging. I really appreciated Southern Belle's comments (paraphrased): You will cook and eat again and even find joy in food and serving it to others...just differently and not so much... So stuffing myself (feelings) has to go. I CAN control myself. This morning I made the most simple and delicious Southern sandwich known to mankind: thick tomato slices on an onion roll with purple onion and light mayo and cracked pepper. The kind of sandwich that runs down your arms and you wanna lick the juice off your elbows. And as the last bite went down, I instantly wanted another... But not today... because maybe, maybe...this time...I'll beat this monster...for good.

Facing Fears

Part of the process of getting ready for this surgery is learning from others who have had this surgery. I have posted 5 fabulous bandit blogs on my list that I am currently reading that have been insightful and fun and helpful. All of these ladies have amazing stories and authentic voices. I am looking forward to learning from all of these women and following in their footsteps. Thanks for sharing, ladies!!!

Hubby recently confessed one of his fears regarding the surgery-considering how steadfastly supportive he's been-I was surprised. Here it is: that I will stop cooking and that he and the boys will be on their own! And honestly-I can't even predict how I will handle that. Currently, I love being in charge of feeding my family. I enjoy the process of planning, shopping, preparing, and serving the food (hate clean up!). And my youngest son loves my cooking!!! His compliments are so important to me... So, we'll see...

Currently my greatest fear is losing my relationship with food. Both privately and publicly. Because I am an emotional eater, food soothes my boredom, frustration, anxiety...you name it. Food is also my joy-the way I interact with friends-my reward. And because I am grappling with the notion of losing this "best friend,"
every meal has become The Last Supper-as if I were a condemned man at dawn! So yes, the eating is out of control-a voracious monster on the march. But not for long... I am saying my good-byes to soda this week. Monday will be another baby step and I will add another good-bye to the list... Will keep you posted.

Overall I am feeling empowered and resolved. Maybe This Time...!!!

The Nutritionist

So I met with Vicki the Nutritionist last night. I was determined to keep my mouth shut and keep my answers to a bare minimum. After the psyche eval debacle-I had had my fill of over sharing. Well-meeting Vicki the Nutritionist put those worries to rest. How shall I put this nicely??? She's a real whackadoodle-and I mean that in the most positive way possible. Talk about an over sharer! I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I answered 3 questions-and she did all the rest of the talking. Trust me-that was FINE with me. Here's some hi-lites from our consult:

Vicki the Nutritionist: "I am sooooo excited you're here!....I had bariatric surgery too!....my friend did hers in Texas....and I decided to go to North Carolina...my daughter is looking for a job this summer...my first husband was a selfish SOB...my boyfriend is a chef...I had the tummy tuck after seeing myself in the mirror making love and "doing the dog" (her words, swear!) with my boyfriend and my belly was swinging...my stools were odorous the first 6 months!... and now I wear full support panty hose because of all my loose skin on my legs (and she lifts her dress way up for me to see)...and I just can't wait to see you again after your surgery!

Whew! A whirlwind of whackadoodle! I actually laughed out loud at her-several times. And she didn't even mind or take it personally. Honestly-she was a breath of fresh air. I KNOW how to eat and what I should/not eat. And I confessed that I was really dreading discussing dieting-again. Just talking to a real person who has had this experience was worth the $100 fee. I mean before I left she had given me her fav website and her fav weight loss book and her email address. What could be more helpful than that??? And the image of her "doing the dog" with the chef boyfriend-priceless!!!

Goal:
I am dropping carbonated sodas from my diet. And I LOVE them... Diet Pepsi has been my best pal these many years... not going to be easy. And honestly-I'm really jones-ing right now. Moving forward-one sip at a time.

Unknown

I am reclined in my beach chair, toes shoved into warm sand, relishing the breeze on my face and body when hubby finally spots THE ONE. He's been on girl watch since we've arrived. "That's what you're gonna look like a year after your surgery." And with total assurance and calm acceptance, he believes this. He has total faith in me. He actually thinks I can do this whole lapband surgery thing. And I study mystery woman under cover of my dark shades. Yes-she is lovely. With a sturdy, toned, athletic build that is pleasing, healthy, and real-not all sharp hip bones and rib cage and knock knees. Maybe I did look like that in another lifetime-hubby assures me I did. But I don't remember. Because I have always felt fat. Since before kindergarten. Even as I look back at pictures now, I realize my body image has always been skewed by the voices in the my head. But here's the deal: NOW, I really am fat. And unhealthy. And I am as far from an ideal, healthy weight as I have ever been. But curiously, as I study mystery woman, I feel...nothing. No envy, no excitement, no sharp longing or desire. Because that deep, resonant voice that lives within my core whispers: not a chance! you don't deserve that. you know you're just gonna fuck it up eventually... Now THAT is TRUTH. I always fuck it up eventually. So looking into the future and using mystery woman as my "mirror," ... well mirrors are a bitch. As a matter of fact I haven't really looked into a mirror in...how long??? I am a pro at putting on make up and dressing in the dark. Because mirrors will hurt you. And mock you. Mirror-Mirror on the wall, who's the fattest of them all???

As these fleeting thoughts scurry across my subconscious, I squeeze hubby's hand. And I am grateful. Because his faith and love sustain me. My own have failed me long, long ago. But I continue to trudge down this path. Skeptical... unsure...afraid... but resolved to the unknown. Maybe this time...

Process

I guess what's so frustrating about my failed/aborted psych eval (previous posting) is the additional hoops that I am going to have to jump over the next 3 months in order to meet my October lapband surgery deadline. Every insurance carrier's criteria is different for being approved for this procedure. But ALL companies have arduous requirements. Getting approved to have this surgery is no cake walk. And honestly-there are enough stop-gaps in the process that those who are not serious or committed won't make it.

Here are the requirements of my particular insurance carrier:
medical records from previous 2-5 yrs documenting medical history
6 month's of consecutive doctor visits to record weight loss efforts
letter from your dr. stating medical necessity
medical questionnaire/surgery seminar/insurance consultation
blood work/labs
psyche eval
dietitian eval
surgery eval

As you can see there is a lot of paperwork, phone calling, and multiple monthly appts that you MUST keep. A missed appt-and your 6 months starts all over. And of course-unexpected road blocks are going to occur (lost paperwork, misdirected faxes, extra therapy sessions!).

So the postponed psych eval kinda clogs the chain of command of events that need to play out (ie: the surgeon will not see me until the psych eval is complete). And I DID have a pity party about it. But hubby gave me a good talking to, a steady shoulder to cry/whine on and then took me on a shopping spree (new dress, bras, perfume)!

My biggest goal right now is just to allow the process to unfold, to trust in God's plan that doors will open (and close) when I am ready and that...maybe this time...I'll lose the weight for good!

Bottom line: You're gonna need a patient, level headed partner to help you through this.

Psych Eval

So I went for my psych eval yesterday ready to check this task off my to-do list in preparation for my October (fingers crossed!) lapband surgery. Although I had a nagging feeling that I needed to be mentally prepared, I pushed those compulsive, controlling thoughts aside. Note to self: No worries! You've got this in the bag! So I showered and primped. Don't want to look like a basket case, right? And put on a cute, assertive outfit and leisurely arrived at my destination feeling peacefully prepared to expose the wonders of my psyche to a complete stranger who, of course, would be completely charmed by my engaging personality. And I have to say-she was. I even made her laugh-twice! Who knew talking about failed, miserable weight loss attempts could be so....stimulating??? I was feeling very Kathy Griffith about the whole thing. Really. And this therapist's office was so warm and inviting and her compassion so steady and sustaining. She GOT me. And I told her EVERYTHING: falling apart at 40, my yr long depression, the implosion and near destruction of my marriage, my earliest memories of emotional eating, my epiphanies about food addiction, my life long battle of feeling like a fat failure, my subversive attempts at weight loss that bordered on the nearly illegal, as well as my chronic self loathing fueled by shameful binge eating episodes of epic proportions. I must say-my eloquence even surprised me. This was soooooo easy! Fun, even. I should have tried this years ago!

When I finally glide to an elegant ending of my tumultuous weight loss story, she compassionaltely looks me in the eye and says, "You are so articulate and insightful! You have a clear understanding of your issues, and you are what we therapists call the PERFECT PATIENT (I am all but glowingly levitating at this lavish praise-which I have EARNED). She continues: You were MEANT for therapy. Not everyone has what it takes to do this kind of work. You however, are a PERFECT candidate! And I have 100% assurance that with some time and sessions you can make this surgery a success. So we're going to cancel this evaluation, send you to another therapist (rejection!), and I'll see what we can do for you in another few months (ie: if you get your shit together)." Do NOT pass GO, and do NOT collect $200. You're grounded, baby.

Like a dumbfounded mouth-breather I sit there in shock. My tight deadline for getting my paperwork done in time for my October surgery is ka-put. And I am frantic to get this show on the road. I am SICK of being a perpetual fat ass! I stumble over my shocked dismay to ask a few stilted questions. My nerves are fraying in front of her. My panic mounts. I nearly plead with her: Please, please please! Just sign the damn papers!!! I'll do anything you want, lady. Don't be such a hard ass. I mean give me an F'in break, k??? I NEED this surgery because I DO have serious issues! What the F did you expect...!?! And I barely manage to listen to her instructions, gather my purse, and straighten my perspiration soaked dress and exit with some of my dignity intact-and a false smile plastered to my face. Within the beat of a few seconds, I have been politely dismissed and shipped off-an aborted psych eval failure. A total fucked-up head case that will require intensive work.

I could have told her that over the phone...