Yeah! I don't know how it will go, but it should be lighter and brighter anyway...besides, chicken boobies are freekin good. I wonder if I should write down recipes here for everyone to use??
Here is something I have learned:
-after you get done shopping, cut up all your veggies and fruit so all you have to do is reach in and grab what you want without a lot of mess. Boil or steam a whole package of chicken breasts, then cut them into strips for salads, soup, etc. Tupperware has these veggie keeper things with vents. I can't tell you how much they were. I got mine for being a Tupperware whore way back when. This was before I discovered rubber maid disposables (after a good amount of reuse). Who knew!? PFT! Oh, and prepare your dry beans ahead of time for vegan dishes (lentils, chick peas, beans). Don't buy canned, too much salt and so much cheaper to buy a big bag full...
Sandie!!! I'm glad you came and commented! Thank you for telling your story! I can't imagine how hard it is dealing with all your stuff. I absolutely understand why you want to go through the program. Isn't it funny how we all have our stories. It makes me wonder why there are some people that find it so hard to judge others without ever knowing the whole story. There is so much more to us than a cupcake addiction, or anxiety triggered chocolate gluttony. I'm so glad you shared. It's nice to know there are more people out there willing to help carry the load. Oh, and there is a natural herbal treatment for RA that is perfectly safe for anyone to try. Burning nettle is thought to be an natural anti inflammatory and a cup of tea a day is good for RA. I would hook you up, but you are supposed to pick the nettle in may and early June. They are seeding now and the ones by my house are all covered with bugs :(. I have friends though that cut and use nettle all year round. You can cook with it, make drinks from it, make dye, hair rinse, it aids in making cheese, all kinds of stuff. You can buy extract from botanical.com and use that until it comes in season again, though I have no idea how much that costs. I've been trying to get my mechanic hubby and his engineer best friend to get together and make me a still so I can make my own distilled extracts, but they drag their feet---pft. MEN. I plan on trying it myself since RA runs in my family too as we get older. My dad sufferers from it really bad. It would be interesting to see if the sting of nettle on the skin would help RA like bee sting therapy does...Have you heard of bee sting therapy? It's really inter sting. It seems that there have been people who suffered from horrible RA, being stung multiple times by bees (like an attack) and the venom from the stings actually killed and cured the RA! Amazing! Right now, you can go in and get stung by bees in a controlled hospital environment, but I think it would be really awesome if they could figure out a way to isolate the *whatever* that makes the RA go away in an IV or injectable form...Oh hell, got me started and I'm all in the wrong blog even!
Anyway, I'm glad your here. Thank you for seeing me. Stay in touch so we can keep up on each other's progress! Aren't you going to school for law enforcement? Man, I got arrested for an overdue library book once...had to sit in a jail cell and everything...I need to tell you that story in an email once...
Friday, August 13, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Week 6
I wonder if anyone else in group is threatened by the upside down-mouth looks our 2 group leads give each other when we talk? What does that mean? Is that Hmmmmmm -good answer or Hmmmmmm -fail? Maybe it means Hmmmmmm lets freak the insecure chick out by giving each other that knowing look and nodding...
I'd love to know what she is writing down.
Today there was very few of us in the room. A couple newbies. All in all, there are 2 ladies who are not sure if they want to go through with the surgery or not. I suppose if there is a true mortal fear or a fear of possible side effects I might be a little apprehensive; though, I wonder why anyone would come this far into the discussion only to turn away from it after all the weeks and talks and appointments that go along even considering the surgery.
To me there is no question, no fear. I'm not sure if having no fear at all is a good thing, but I really have none. I can't see myself being afraid of losing weight, feeling better, living out my life healthier and happier with less reserve, trying new things, exploring, having the energy and will to try new things and explore. On the other hand I'm also not afraid of the possible side effects, the dumping, vomiting, hair loss, possible infection. Probably because I have a certain amount of control over the latter. Undertaking major surgery and dying? Also not a real concern. I am a firm believer in God and I know that if he is ready for me to come home, I'll get there whatever way he wants me to get there. I have true peace in that regard. I have no real reason to be afraid of anything. If I have to be afraid, I guess I am afraid of not passing the "test" that all these specialists and counselors are putting me through. I'm afraid that one of them will say that I'm not ready. The through of that happening makes tears well up in my eyes. If I'm afraid of anything, I am afraid of being told I have failed once again.
Oh, my snacking money idea paid off. Today I had $12.00 put away that would have been spent on candy bars or bags of chips normally. I bought two 12-foot lengths of round stock (for my welding projects) and shampoo, bath soap and a new bath mitt (necessities for myself that I needed, but would not have the money for today if I had spent my money on pop and snacks this week).
YAY!
I had mentioned in group today that I had invested in a juicer for after surgery when everything needs to be soft. I thought especially, it would be a good idea for fiber-veggies- to help break them down and discourage things like that from getting stuck. Our group lead told me to start using it now. I wonder why? To find out what I like and what I don't? After all, after surgery is when you learn what you will tolerate and what you wont. After surgery is when you experiment with your new foods and new stomach to test the proverbial waters of eating...why would it make a difference now? I may need to reflect. Any of my hommies from group that have some input, I will most definitely take it. Leave a comment as a guest. Possibly I missed something that should be common sense? Hmmmmm *upside down mouth*...
Oh, the link to my personal blog is: http://thequasihippie.blogspot.com/ For some reason I thought quasi was spelled with a z today. Meh, she's a tard.
I'd love to know what she is writing down.
Today there was very few of us in the room. A couple newbies. All in all, there are 2 ladies who are not sure if they want to go through with the surgery or not. I suppose if there is a true mortal fear or a fear of possible side effects I might be a little apprehensive; though, I wonder why anyone would come this far into the discussion only to turn away from it after all the weeks and talks and appointments that go along even considering the surgery.
To me there is no question, no fear. I'm not sure if having no fear at all is a good thing, but I really have none. I can't see myself being afraid of losing weight, feeling better, living out my life healthier and happier with less reserve, trying new things, exploring, having the energy and will to try new things and explore. On the other hand I'm also not afraid of the possible side effects, the dumping, vomiting, hair loss, possible infection. Probably because I have a certain amount of control over the latter. Undertaking major surgery and dying? Also not a real concern. I am a firm believer in God and I know that if he is ready for me to come home, I'll get there whatever way he wants me to get there. I have true peace in that regard. I have no real reason to be afraid of anything. If I have to be afraid, I guess I am afraid of not passing the "test" that all these specialists and counselors are putting me through. I'm afraid that one of them will say that I'm not ready. The through of that happening makes tears well up in my eyes. If I'm afraid of anything, I am afraid of being told I have failed once again.
Oh, my snacking money idea paid off. Today I had $12.00 put away that would have been spent on candy bars or bags of chips normally. I bought two 12-foot lengths of round stock (for my welding projects) and shampoo, bath soap and a new bath mitt (necessities for myself that I needed, but would not have the money for today if I had spent my money on pop and snacks this week).
YAY!
I had mentioned in group today that I had invested in a juicer for after surgery when everything needs to be soft. I thought especially, it would be a good idea for fiber-veggies- to help break them down and discourage things like that from getting stuck. Our group lead told me to start using it now. I wonder why? To find out what I like and what I don't? After all, after surgery is when you learn what you will tolerate and what you wont. After surgery is when you experiment with your new foods and new stomach to test the proverbial waters of eating...why would it make a difference now? I may need to reflect. Any of my hommies from group that have some input, I will most definitely take it. Leave a comment as a guest. Possibly I missed something that should be common sense? Hmmmmm *upside down mouth*...
Oh, the link to my personal blog is: http://thequasihippie.blogspot.com/ For some reason I thought quasi was spelled with a z today. Meh, she's a tard.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Week 5
I think I gained a few readers today while in group. I kind of wanted to say this in group, but it's really hard to get to know and have a conversation with people in 45 minutes. I just wanted to make it clear that all my readers are welcome here, but I need to make it very clear that this is my personal space. This is where I get to vent on myself, my consumables, dig into my innermost psyche and whine on occasion. I've come a long way and there is way more to my life than what is found here. Some of it surfaces in my rants, but unless you really know where I am coming from, I don't expect anyone to really get it. So, if you think I'm a whiny punk, just remember that I have lived in this body my whole life. If I want to cry about it, I have a reason and a right. This is why there are only a few of you I have allowed in, because we all happen to be traveling down the same road at the moment and its cool to have friends...Onward.
Dear General Mills;
Recently, I have made it a personal goal of mine to have a successful gastric bypass surgery and from there, work on bettering my body and my life for the sake of my health and overall quality of life. That being said, I was surprised when once again, you have found a way to torture my very soul with yet another improvement on your already perfect snacking system-the Bugle. Frankly, I was unaware that this was possible until I held the shiny plastic bag of freeking deliciousness in my eyes. Since this was GB group today, I could not throw caution to the wind and get a bag. One must always behave on GB group day. I glared at the bag a full 2 seconds before snatching my stupid, tasteless, no fun snack of pretzels off the rack. I silently flipped you the bird on my way to the counter with my healthy snack, riddled with pissed-offiness.
So, thank you General Mills, for making my journey that much rockier. Thank you so much for your incessant desire for money, that you cannot foresee the angry fat chick that passed up your sensual treat today, to offer her a fat free version of the same damn snack. Suck my big toe General Mills.
Love,
Jessie
I suppose you are wondering if I did finally buy the bugles. Yes. On the way home, I went through Wheeler and got a bag, but did not open it. When I got home, I gathered my husband and children around me and we all sampled the bugles. I had 3 before I walked away leaving the bag to my skinny husband, his skinny best friend and my skinny kids. Oddly, I feel less animosity after those 3 bugles. I didn't eat them all, so I don't feel guilty, but I did try them so now I'm enlightened that way...I don't have an overwhelming need to run out to the shop and steal them away so I can hide behind a stump someplace in the wilderness and eat them all. Three was good. I tried them. They were, indeed, freeking delicious. I still compare General Mills with Nazis, but I need to deal with Nazis as well.
Here is the thing, I have decided to use this as my personal goal for the rest of the week. Whenever I want to buy something stupid food-wise that I do not need to sustain myself, I will put that 2 dollars, 3 dollars-whatever in a jar. Next Wednesday, when I go to town for group, I will have money for a non-food treat, like fabric, welding wire, beads, yarn, VELCRO!!! It will be interesting how much money I will have. Maybe enough for that mini iron I've been wanting? Eeeek. I hope not. Kind of a sobering thought huh?
Group was great today. We learned a lot from each other and I have been around long enough that I am trying to make friends. My heart really went out to A. today. Our group lead pointed out that she always talks about her success in future tense, which I can relate to, but it seems that she really had not made many changes in her life thus far, but instead keeps thinking about how it is going to be instead of how it is now. She has not talked to all of her family yet, though her parents know that she is doing the surgery. I felt so bad for her and I wonder if it is more than the baking and farm living that holds her back. I grew up with a very controlling father. It seemed like my mom was too busy worrying about how to keep him quiet and happy, to really identify with us kids, though I assume her efforts kept us from getting the brunt end of his anger. My point is, she seems afraid to really bring her self out into the open and to really identify with what she is doing and I wish so much that I could give her some of my own confidence to stand up against the "what if." Strength to you A. This is your deal, not your brother's deal, not your parent's deal, YOUR DEAL. You stand up for you one time and you will see a difference. It took me the better part of 18 years to learn that everyone has a right to their own opinion, but mine is most important to myself. My opinion is what shapes me into a good or bad person. My opinion supports my good or bad decisions and I am the only one who can change my opinion. If it wasn't for my late sister and my amazing husband, I would probably still be taking care of everyone else but me. I hope you find your loud voice. Even a good loud "fuck you" in the middle of the woods where no one will hear you will make you feel better. I do that all the time and I think my trees are getting depressed about it. Sorry about that trees.
Oh, best exercise ever. We all had to stand in a circle and we each had to identify ourselves with something. Our sentence starter was, "When I feel fat I..." Our team lead said when she feels fat she feels like her breasts are ships and she made this parting-the-ocean movement. The next guy said, "when I feel fat I feel...and then she slumped his shoulders and got all lethargic looking. The next one said she felt fluffy, so we made a fluffy sign, got lethargic, had ship boobs, etc. It was totally a good time. I said I was a mountain. I thought of it because of a conversation my sister and I had about periods, not because thats really an accurate description of how I feel when I feel fat. The fact is, there are no group-friendly terms that describe how I feel when I feel fat and I'm not sure how it would go if we all had to swear like pirates when we repeated my description. Thus, I was a mountain. My sign was ^. Only bigger.
----------------------GIRLS ONLY. DO NOT CROSS LINE YUCKY BOYS-----------------------
OKay, I have to tell the story because its completely unrelated and thats how I roll. So my sister and I were on the phone talking about periods and I was complaining about how I once had the most WONDERFUL 3-day periods after I had Lucas and Rebecca, but how they all went to shit when I had Emma. NOW I have 3 days of major irritability. Like, that soap bubble pisses me off, stop breathing, don't talk to me, don't touch me-kind of irritable. My ankles swell like balloons and it hurts to walk because I think my skin is going to split open and I'm just generally really pissed off. Then-IT happens. This is when my sister said, "Yeah, Mount Rushmore!" I lost it. "You mean Niagara Falls? Or maybe you have presidents dropping out of your vagina every month--I don't want to know..." Then we laughed until we snorted and that comment has kept me going all day despite my "Mount Rushmore" problems. This is why I said, when I feel fat, I feel like a mountain. And now you have seen inside my head. Don't mind the mess.
Dear General Mills;
Recently, I have made it a personal goal of mine to have a successful gastric bypass surgery and from there, work on bettering my body and my life for the sake of my health and overall quality of life. That being said, I was surprised when once again, you have found a way to torture my very soul with yet another improvement on your already perfect snacking system-the Bugle. Frankly, I was unaware that this was possible until I held the shiny plastic bag of freeking deliciousness in my eyes. Since this was GB group today, I could not throw caution to the wind and get a bag. One must always behave on GB group day. I glared at the bag a full 2 seconds before snatching my stupid, tasteless, no fun snack of pretzels off the rack. I silently flipped you the bird on my way to the counter with my healthy snack, riddled with pissed-offiness.
So, thank you General Mills, for making my journey that much rockier. Thank you so much for your incessant desire for money, that you cannot foresee the angry fat chick that passed up your sensual treat today, to offer her a fat free version of the same damn snack. Suck my big toe General Mills.
Jessie
I suppose you are wondering if I did finally buy the bugles. Yes. On the way home, I went through Wheeler and got a bag, but did not open it. When I got home, I gathered my husband and children around me and we all sampled the bugles. I had 3 before I walked away leaving the bag to my skinny husband, his skinny best friend and my skinny kids. Oddly, I feel less animosity after those 3 bugles. I didn't eat them all, so I don't feel guilty, but I did try them so now I'm enlightened that way...I don't have an overwhelming need to run out to the shop and steal them away so I can hide behind a stump someplace in the wilderness and eat them all. Three was good. I tried them. They were, indeed, freeking delicious. I still compare General Mills with Nazis, but I need to deal with Nazis as well.
Here is the thing, I have decided to use this as my personal goal for the rest of the week. Whenever I want to buy something stupid food-wise that I do not need to sustain myself, I will put that 2 dollars, 3 dollars-whatever in a jar. Next Wednesday, when I go to town for group, I will have money for a non-food treat, like fabric, welding wire, beads, yarn, VELCRO!!! It will be interesting how much money I will have. Maybe enough for that mini iron I've been wanting? Eeeek. I hope not. Kind of a sobering thought huh?
Group was great today. We learned a lot from each other and I have been around long enough that I am trying to make friends. My heart really went out to A. today. Our group lead pointed out that she always talks about her success in future tense, which I can relate to, but it seems that she really had not made many changes in her life thus far, but instead keeps thinking about how it is going to be instead of how it is now. She has not talked to all of her family yet, though her parents know that she is doing the surgery. I felt so bad for her and I wonder if it is more than the baking and farm living that holds her back. I grew up with a very controlling father. It seemed like my mom was too busy worrying about how to keep him quiet and happy, to really identify with us kids, though I assume her efforts kept us from getting the brunt end of his anger. My point is, she seems afraid to really bring her self out into the open and to really identify with what she is doing and I wish so much that I could give her some of my own confidence to stand up against the "what if." Strength to you A. This is your deal, not your brother's deal, not your parent's deal, YOUR DEAL. You stand up for you one time and you will see a difference. It took me the better part of 18 years to learn that everyone has a right to their own opinion, but mine is most important to myself. My opinion is what shapes me into a good or bad person. My opinion supports my good or bad decisions and I am the only one who can change my opinion. If it wasn't for my late sister and my amazing husband, I would probably still be taking care of everyone else but me. I hope you find your loud voice. Even a good loud "fuck you" in the middle of the woods where no one will hear you will make you feel better. I do that all the time and I think my trees are getting depressed about it. Sorry about that trees.
Oh, best exercise ever. We all had to stand in a circle and we each had to identify ourselves with something. Our sentence starter was, "When I feel fat I..." Our team lead said when she feels fat she feels like her breasts are ships and she made this parting-the-ocean movement. The next guy said, "when I feel fat I feel...and then she slumped his shoulders and got all lethargic looking. The next one said she felt fluffy, so we made a fluffy sign, got lethargic, had ship boobs, etc. It was totally a good time. I said I was a mountain. I thought of it because of a conversation my sister and I had about periods, not because thats really an accurate description of how I feel when I feel fat. The fact is, there are no group-friendly terms that describe how I feel when I feel fat and I'm not sure how it would go if we all had to swear like pirates when we repeated my description. Thus, I was a mountain. My sign was ^. Only bigger.
----------------------GIRLS ONLY. DO NOT CROSS LINE YUCKY BOYS-----------------------
OKay, I have to tell the story because its completely unrelated and thats how I roll. So my sister and I were on the phone talking about periods and I was complaining about how I once had the most WONDERFUL 3-day periods after I had Lucas and Rebecca, but how they all went to shit when I had Emma. NOW I have 3 days of major irritability. Like, that soap bubble pisses me off, stop breathing, don't talk to me, don't touch me-kind of irritable. My ankles swell like balloons and it hurts to walk because I think my skin is going to split open and I'm just generally really pissed off. Then-IT happens. This is when my sister said, "Yeah, Mount Rushmore!" I lost it. "You mean Niagara Falls? Or maybe you have presidents dropping out of your vagina every month--I don't want to know..." Then we laughed until we snorted and that comment has kept me going all day despite my "Mount Rushmore" problems. This is why I said, when I feel fat, I feel like a mountain. And now you have seen inside my head. Don't mind the mess.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
A minor YAY moment.
YAY!
Here's the deal. I have been guilty these past few weeks of seeing something I want and just getting it. My attitude is enjoy it while you can, because in ??? months you will not have it again.
OKay. Yeah. I suck. I'm supposed to be all Richard Simmons with a twist of lime over here and instead I'm Rosanne Bahr. Here's the thing though. this whole week something super weird happened. I suggested going to Subway with a friend. Usually I would go to China Buffet. When I got there, without really having to think about it hard, I got my very first 6 inch sandwich. Not a foot long. Six inches. Instead of chips, I got yogurt. Instead of soda, I got water. SHUT UP! I KNOW!!! The weirdest part is, I didn't have to think about it much. It just happened, like I was possessed by Jenny Friggin' Craig!!!
But wait. There is more.
I was looking over my "Notepad of Guilt and Shame," which is a little note pad i sometimes have in my purse/pocket/van that I will write down-not everything I eat from day to day, but if I really screw up or do something noteworthy, I jot it down. I noticed that instead of bad notes, I did not have seconds on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at supper time. Tonight I did because we ate brown rice and veggies. Come to think of it, I'm not really guilty over that since the chicken breasts, brown rice and veggies were all steamed, seasoned with fried rice flavoring and soy sauce. The calories were within the corral. Again, not much thought went into it.
Is this some kind of weird change? How come I'm not all whiny about having no chocolate today. After all, I am 3 days before Moon Time and for the next week, my children's breathing will irritate me. My Lucas got the hint as soon as I woke up with my "fat eyebrows," which is my crabby look evidently, and took all the kids outside to play while I sat and crafted alone. My hubby has taken cover in the bunker with his hidden stash of chocolate to throw at me should I decide to attack. The clock ticks. The only thing that will save everyone's life will be Lindors, coffee and a Midol overdose. Or will it? Ooooooooo.
I am so freaked out right now.
Here's the deal. I have been guilty these past few weeks of seeing something I want and just getting it. My attitude is enjoy it while you can, because in ??? months you will not have it again.
OKay. Yeah. I suck. I'm supposed to be all Richard Simmons with a twist of lime over here and instead I'm Rosanne Bahr. Here's the thing though. this whole week something super weird happened. I suggested going to Subway with a friend. Usually I would go to China Buffet. When I got there, without really having to think about it hard, I got my very first 6 inch sandwich. Not a foot long. Six inches. Instead of chips, I got yogurt. Instead of soda, I got water. SHUT UP! I KNOW!!! The weirdest part is, I didn't have to think about it much. It just happened, like I was possessed by Jenny Friggin' Craig!!!
But wait. There is more.
I was looking over my "Notepad of Guilt and Shame," which is a little note pad i sometimes have in my purse/pocket/van that I will write down-not everything I eat from day to day, but if I really screw up or do something noteworthy, I jot it down. I noticed that instead of bad notes, I did not have seconds on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at supper time. Tonight I did because we ate brown rice and veggies. Come to think of it, I'm not really guilty over that since the chicken breasts, brown rice and veggies were all steamed, seasoned with fried rice flavoring and soy sauce. The calories were within the corral. Again, not much thought went into it.
Is this some kind of weird change? How come I'm not all whiny about having no chocolate today. After all, I am 3 days before Moon Time and for the next week, my children's breathing will irritate me. My Lucas got the hint as soon as I woke up with my "fat eyebrows," which is my crabby look evidently, and took all the kids outside to play while I sat and crafted alone. My hubby has taken cover in the bunker with his hidden stash of chocolate to throw at me should I decide to attack. The clock ticks. The only thing that will save everyone's life will be Lindors, coffee and a Midol overdose. Or will it? Ooooooooo.
I am so freaked out right now.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Group week 4
Today was kinda cool because a few people that had the surgery came in to answer questions. I have to admit, my biggest concern is the throwing up parts. Really, if it was guaranteed my whole life that food would make me sick if I ate it, I would not be having GB surgery. I hate throwing up more than anything and I can honestly recollect every stinking time I was sick as a kid kneeling in front of the toilet and praying with all my might to just stop the nausea. This being said, I am pretty sure I will be able to keep on track. 1 puke and I am done with that. I never was a good one for getting back on the horse once I fell off and got puke...I mean hurt. Nevertheless, we had to talk about challenges that we may foresee in ourselves postsurgury. My answer was clear. Exercise. I hate exercise. You get hot, you sweat, you stink, you get hives all over and puff up and itch, your face turns into hamburger (at least mine does-I think I'm allergic to exercise-NO LIE). I friggin hate exercise and right now, along with my old standby hates, my feet, back, legs hurt SO BAD. For every day I exercise, there is at least 3 days I can't move for the pain. I can only hope when the weight starts to come off, that part will be easier. Maybe the hives and itchy puffiness will get better too. On the other hand, I do have a friend who is thin and pretty all the time, who complains of the hives too. This might be a problem long term and I brought it up in group as such.
Anyway, 3 people came in and it worked out that there was a bad extreme, good extreme and an average patient. The bad extreme guy-we will call him Grumpy-he was very ill beforehand, still has a hard time keeping hydrated, can only eat a little at a time a year and a half later and he had a heart attack postsurgury. He made sure that we knew this was very abnormal and that without a doubt, he would go through the surgery again. He can move, do things, go places, sit in any chair, ride in small cars. The continued problems is something he chooses to deal with happily because that is just how it worked out for him.
The other extreme was extreme to the good-we can call her Happy- had very little soreness, nausea or problems after surgery. She was up and walking all over the day after surgery and has had a happy result overall. Would she do it again? Yep.
Then there was the average lady-she needs a cool handle. Um, how about Flatline? Flatline still has trouble keeping certain foods down, especially harder to digest stuff like meat. She stated she had to be aware of how things were prepared and how much she consumed. She too, had no problems with saying she would do it again.
We asked our questions. Mine of course consisted of, "Did you/do you throw up all the time?" The answer overall was that you kind of know what will and what will not go down. A lot of times you know before you even swallow. I associated it with morning sickness. I could put something in my mouth and chew it a second and know it was the wrong choice before it ever slid down my throat hole. Grumpy said he could eat about anything, just only a bite at a time though.
"Does exercise get easier/more fun?" Yes. They told me to make sure I had good shoes. We all know my thoughts on shoes and how they compromise the strength of your feet with their ugly ways; however, I do have a good pair of walking shoes I paid a pretty penny for. I use them and get weird blisters in weird places like on my arch and the top of my foot. They cramp and pinch my toes. They are hot. I hate them. I continue to be a shoe hater. They do have a barefoot shoe that is designed for running, but keeps your feet in a natural state. I may look into those. Both in an effort to stay comfortable and to express my shoe rebellion and hate for all surfaces concrete. They did say it would be easier though and more fun because movement is easier, you can try more things and are more likely to want to be with others while you do stuff.
"Whats the most fun part of having the surgery?" Lets face it here. I was born a 10 lb baby. I have NEVER in my life known svelte. I wore boys pants because they did not make girls pants my size. I wore hand me down shirts from my overweight 40-year-old aunt. I have never, ever been comfortable in my own skin, in public, in a chair...this question probably seemed inconsequential to everyone but me. To me, this is the most important because this happiness is what I needed so much in my lonely teenage years, when I had to go to dances and dance with a teacher, when no one wanted to be my partner, picked last for a team, made fun of and then the person who was forced to be my partner was picked on because he was with me. I cried so much, beat my fists on the cement until my knuckles bled, scraped coat hanger hooks on my skin to make myself bleed, hit myself in the face, pinched my arms and gave myself bruises and I cried and cried and cried. I want to finally know what it is like to be seen. For someone to see me in the room and describe me as that happy lady with the pretty eyes. That really smart lady, that lady who laughs and is so funny, that artist, that person who is not that fat person, that big lady, you know the hefty one. I am so ready to be seen for who I really am. I am so much more than this fat, tired, hurting, sad monster who happens to love art, writing, reading, and can sing like any of those American Idol girls. But see, no one sees the latter, because my body takes over the canvas and all the beautiful cool bits are pushed into the background. So, what is the most fun parts? Sitting in any chair, crossing your legs like a real lady, being feminine, clothes, riding the ferris wheel with your lover, having sex and participating fully in the act (not covered in group, but this is my blog and I will say what I want), walking through a turnstile, feeling pretty, wanting to have your picture taken, wearing bangle bracelets and necklaces without extensions, getting that tattoo I have always wanted and being able to wear the shirt that will show it off, sleeveless, shorts, going out and doing stuff with the kids, running, bras that fit, shoes that fit, cute underwear, motorcycle rides, knowing my hubby is proud of showing me off, singing in public and liking it, taking compliments, swimming, bathing suits, holding my baby on my hip, long walks, uphill walks, uphill runs, friends, socializing, fitting in my car, moving the seat up, not having the steering wheel rub on my belly and leaving black marks on my clean shirts,less food stains on my shirts (I assume if less of me sticks out, less will fall on my shirt), high heels, dancing...
And then she talked about people who failed, which pretty much consisted of people who failed to be aware, take responsibility, or try. people who assumed that the surgery would be a quick and easy solution to the overall problem. The scariest thing for me is the fact that after I do all of this, it is still not really up to me but up to all my people and my surgeon and my doctors to decide if I am ready. That scares me so much. Every time I even think something could go wrong, or I screw up (missed an appointment) I cry and cry scared to DEATH that this will not happen for me. An ongoing problem I have had my whole life is my so-called bad attitude. I have one, yes, but even when I have tried to overcome it, it ended up a factor in my failure.
Once I was at this work camp where we, as a group, went out and did chores for the state. We planted trees, painted picnic tables at the park, made paths, dug holes, chopped down trees. They graded you each week from 1 being the best, to 5 being the worst. I wanted a 1 on the worst way. All week I worked my tail off, worked through my breaks even, moved fast and did what I was told with no complaints. When the end of the week came and we got our numbers, I was a 3. I was absolutely crushed and spent my entire weekend locked up in my cabin crying. My counselor asked what the problem was and I told her everything. She in turn went to the counselor in charge of my work group who said that indeed I was a wonderful worker and I had worked harder and faster than anyone, but I had a bad attitude. To this day I think about that and how the term bad attitude followed me through school and all my classes, with my grades, my level of participation, all through the summer and camp, with almost every job I held thereafter, no matter what I did right or wrong, I had a bad or substandard attitude. So here I am facing this thing that is so important to me, so crucial to my self, my life, my family, my family's well being, my husband, my social life, my health, my health, my health and all I can think about is my bad attitude. Is it showing? Is it in the way? I know its lurking in my exercise hatred, but I'm smiling when I say I hate it. I'm doing it anyway. I showed up to group even though my dad was on his way to Rochester ICU--was that good or bad? Was my attitude bad? Was showing up anyway the right thing or the wrong thing? Having the baby there was bad, but I had no one else other than myself. Was my attitude bad then? What is a good attitude? Smiling and being chipper has not worked for me. I guess I still have a bad attitude even when I'm not trying to have a bad attitude or when I'm truly happy, energized, helpful and happy. Maybe I just have a bad attitude face? Will my bad attitude destroy my chances of knowing what it is like to be comfortable and happy? The thought makes me even more uncomfortable and unhappy and scared, and panicky, and a little sick to my stomach.
Is my admitting all of this making me seem like a crazy person? Crazy is a big no on the chart too. Fuck. And I was going to give the link to my blog to my group leader. I need to stop this thought process before it erupts into a really bad attitude.
Anyway, 3 people came in and it worked out that there was a bad extreme, good extreme and an average patient. The bad extreme guy-we will call him Grumpy-he was very ill beforehand, still has a hard time keeping hydrated, can only eat a little at a time a year and a half later and he had a heart attack postsurgury. He made sure that we knew this was very abnormal and that without a doubt, he would go through the surgery again. He can move, do things, go places, sit in any chair, ride in small cars. The continued problems is something he chooses to deal with happily because that is just how it worked out for him.
The other extreme was extreme to the good-we can call her Happy- had very little soreness, nausea or problems after surgery. She was up and walking all over the day after surgery and has had a happy result overall. Would she do it again? Yep.
Then there was the average lady-she needs a cool handle. Um, how about Flatline? Flatline still has trouble keeping certain foods down, especially harder to digest stuff like meat. She stated she had to be aware of how things were prepared and how much she consumed. She too, had no problems with saying she would do it again.
We asked our questions. Mine of course consisted of, "Did you/do you throw up all the time?" The answer overall was that you kind of know what will and what will not go down. A lot of times you know before you even swallow. I associated it with morning sickness. I could put something in my mouth and chew it a second and know it was the wrong choice before it ever slid down my throat hole. Grumpy said he could eat about anything, just only a bite at a time though.
"Does exercise get easier/more fun?" Yes. They told me to make sure I had good shoes. We all know my thoughts on shoes and how they compromise the strength of your feet with their ugly ways; however, I do have a good pair of walking shoes I paid a pretty penny for. I use them and get weird blisters in weird places like on my arch and the top of my foot. They cramp and pinch my toes. They are hot. I hate them. I continue to be a shoe hater. They do have a barefoot shoe that is designed for running, but keeps your feet in a natural state. I may look into those. Both in an effort to stay comfortable and to express my shoe rebellion and hate for all surfaces concrete. They did say it would be easier though and more fun because movement is easier, you can try more things and are more likely to want to be with others while you do stuff.
"Whats the most fun part of having the surgery?" Lets face it here. I was born a 10 lb baby. I have NEVER in my life known svelte. I wore boys pants because they did not make girls pants my size. I wore hand me down shirts from my overweight 40-year-old aunt. I have never, ever been comfortable in my own skin, in public, in a chair...this question probably seemed inconsequential to everyone but me. To me, this is the most important because this happiness is what I needed so much in my lonely teenage years, when I had to go to dances and dance with a teacher, when no one wanted to be my partner, picked last for a team, made fun of and then the person who was forced to be my partner was picked on because he was with me. I cried so much, beat my fists on the cement until my knuckles bled, scraped coat hanger hooks on my skin to make myself bleed, hit myself in the face, pinched my arms and gave myself bruises and I cried and cried and cried. I want to finally know what it is like to be seen. For someone to see me in the room and describe me as that happy lady with the pretty eyes. That really smart lady, that lady who laughs and is so funny, that artist, that person who is not that fat person, that big lady, you know the hefty one. I am so ready to be seen for who I really am. I am so much more than this fat, tired, hurting, sad monster who happens to love art, writing, reading, and can sing like any of those American Idol girls. But see, no one sees the latter, because my body takes over the canvas and all the beautiful cool bits are pushed into the background. So, what is the most fun parts? Sitting in any chair, crossing your legs like a real lady, being feminine, clothes, riding the ferris wheel with your lover, having sex and participating fully in the act (not covered in group, but this is my blog and I will say what I want), walking through a turnstile, feeling pretty, wanting to have your picture taken, wearing bangle bracelets and necklaces without extensions, getting that tattoo I have always wanted and being able to wear the shirt that will show it off, sleeveless, shorts, going out and doing stuff with the kids, running, bras that fit, shoes that fit, cute underwear, motorcycle rides, knowing my hubby is proud of showing me off, singing in public and liking it, taking compliments, swimming, bathing suits, holding my baby on my hip, long walks, uphill walks, uphill runs, friends, socializing, fitting in my car, moving the seat up, not having the steering wheel rub on my belly and leaving black marks on my clean shirts,less food stains on my shirts (I assume if less of me sticks out, less will fall on my shirt), high heels, dancing...
And then she talked about people who failed, which pretty much consisted of people who failed to be aware, take responsibility, or try. people who assumed that the surgery would be a quick and easy solution to the overall problem. The scariest thing for me is the fact that after I do all of this, it is still not really up to me but up to all my people and my surgeon and my doctors to decide if I am ready. That scares me so much. Every time I even think something could go wrong, or I screw up (missed an appointment) I cry and cry scared to DEATH that this will not happen for me. An ongoing problem I have had my whole life is my so-called bad attitude. I have one, yes, but even when I have tried to overcome it, it ended up a factor in my failure.
Once I was at this work camp where we, as a group, went out and did chores for the state. We planted trees, painted picnic tables at the park, made paths, dug holes, chopped down trees. They graded you each week from 1 being the best, to 5 being the worst. I wanted a 1 on the worst way. All week I worked my tail off, worked through my breaks even, moved fast and did what I was told with no complaints. When the end of the week came and we got our numbers, I was a 3. I was absolutely crushed and spent my entire weekend locked up in my cabin crying. My counselor asked what the problem was and I told her everything. She in turn went to the counselor in charge of my work group who said that indeed I was a wonderful worker and I had worked harder and faster than anyone, but I had a bad attitude. To this day I think about that and how the term bad attitude followed me through school and all my classes, with my grades, my level of participation, all through the summer and camp, with almost every job I held thereafter, no matter what I did right or wrong, I had a bad or substandard attitude. So here I am facing this thing that is so important to me, so crucial to my self, my life, my family, my family's well being, my husband, my social life, my health, my health, my health and all I can think about is my bad attitude. Is it showing? Is it in the way? I know its lurking in my exercise hatred, but I'm smiling when I say I hate it. I'm doing it anyway. I showed up to group even though my dad was on his way to Rochester ICU--was that good or bad? Was my attitude bad? Was showing up anyway the right thing or the wrong thing? Having the baby there was bad, but I had no one else other than myself. Was my attitude bad then? What is a good attitude? Smiling and being chipper has not worked for me. I guess I still have a bad attitude even when I'm not trying to have a bad attitude or when I'm truly happy, energized, helpful and happy. Maybe I just have a bad attitude face? Will my bad attitude destroy my chances of knowing what it is like to be comfortable and happy? The thought makes me even more uncomfortable and unhappy and scared, and panicky, and a little sick to my stomach.
Is my admitting all of this making me seem like a crazy person? Crazy is a big no on the chart too. Fuck. And I was going to give the link to my blog to my group leader. I need to stop this thought process before it erupts into a really bad attitude.
Group, week 2 and 3, not necessarily in that order.
So, today we talked about feelings. Like, what kinds of feelings you had today either in reference to yourself or others. I'm pretty much thinking that this was supposed to be in reference to myself, but because I was having a crappy day, dad went to Rochester ICU on his death bed AGAIN, no one was around to take care of Emma and I ended up bringing her, then getting the "talk" in the hall because evidently a 2 year old is a major breach of privacy-we had a long talk on the way home about how she could not tell any of her stuffed animals about what she saw or heard today in group-to which she replied with a long dissertations consisting of a lot of blah, blahs and I think she might have said boobie at some point...Anyway, despite the fact that it can never happen again, I'm almost positive no real HIPAA laws were compromised.
So anyway, how did I feel?
-Pissed at dad for not taking care of himself now, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, when he almost died of a crushed heart when he was 18 and told he would not live past the age of 40.
-Disappointed in him for the same reasons. Disappointed in myself for having the same attitude for so long. Disappointed because I never had the taste of "thin."
-Disgusted with dad for continuing to not take care of himself or do for himself even when he has been at the threshold of death 4 times in the last 3 years. Am I being dramatic? Only about calling near death a threshold. I say threshold because I'm literary. Disgusted with myself because I'm fat and lazy and tired and hurting and I feel like a failure in so many ways. At the moment it is taking a walk and my feet hurt and my back hurts and my legs hurt and I am hot and miserable and hateful and disgusted.
-Disdainful.
-Hateful
-Sick
-Angry
-Sad
-Overwhelmed
I should look back over my day. At the time I was answering that question I was sad, upset and I can't remember most of the meeting.
-How about proud of making the first steps to bettering myself?
-Conscious as to my decisions, good or bad, pertaining to my food choices?
-Happy that I won't be following the same sickly and emotional path my dad is following and putting his family through.
-Thankful that I will see my grand babies and can show off my funky back tattoo when they say that grandma's are boring.
I missed week 3 too, so I should throw what I can remember about that one in here. We learned about patterns in eating. Making choices and being accountable. Don't beat yourself up over a bite of chocolate, but make an effort to say no the next time, or eat less. We also talked about how our thoughts, lead to feelings, which leads to actions, which leads back to thoughts, which, after a while, can morph into beliefs.
Example: I cannot pay my garbage bill and service is interrupted >>> I am stressed, sad, feel like a failure, feeling tired, depressed >>> I'm gonna sit on the couch and mope, get some chocolate and popcorn and binge >>> thinking I am a failure, I ate too much, I don't feel good >>> become even more depressed, sad, etc. >>> sit on the couch again and do nothing and eat some more garbage >>> thinking about...and this continues until you are believing you are a fat loser that will go nowhere and has no control over their own actions.
Can you fix it? Yep. The circle goes in a positive direction too and you can go from depressed and sad and feeling like a failure to thinking positively, you can get up and go, feeling proud of yourself, eating correctly which makes you even more proud etc. Which in turn will will change your belief in yourself and you will be superwoman of healthy goodness. The trick is to maintain superwoman of healthy goodness despite the pitfalls and succumbing to that damned chocolate cake...to be continued. Sorry this is all mashed together, but I've had a busy week and I was a bum about posting. last week, I was just lazy and didn't feel like it. I'm being accountable for my laziness right now and countering it with posting. :)
So anyway, how did I feel?
-Pissed at dad for not taking care of himself now, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, when he almost died of a crushed heart when he was 18 and told he would not live past the age of 40.
-Disappointed in him for the same reasons. Disappointed in myself for having the same attitude for so long. Disappointed because I never had the taste of "thin."
-Disgusted with dad for continuing to not take care of himself or do for himself even when he has been at the threshold of death 4 times in the last 3 years. Am I being dramatic? Only about calling near death a threshold. I say threshold because I'm literary. Disgusted with myself because I'm fat and lazy and tired and hurting and I feel like a failure in so many ways. At the moment it is taking a walk and my feet hurt and my back hurts and my legs hurt and I am hot and miserable and hateful and disgusted.
-Disdainful.
-Hateful
-Sick
-Angry
-Sad
-Overwhelmed
I should look back over my day. At the time I was answering that question I was sad, upset and I can't remember most of the meeting.
-How about proud of making the first steps to bettering myself?
-Conscious as to my decisions, good or bad, pertaining to my food choices?
-Happy that I won't be following the same sickly and emotional path my dad is following and putting his family through.
-Thankful that I will see my grand babies and can show off my funky back tattoo when they say that grandma's are boring.
I missed week 3 too, so I should throw what I can remember about that one in here. We learned about patterns in eating. Making choices and being accountable. Don't beat yourself up over a bite of chocolate, but make an effort to say no the next time, or eat less. We also talked about how our thoughts, lead to feelings, which leads to actions, which leads back to thoughts, which, after a while, can morph into beliefs.
Example: I cannot pay my garbage bill and service is interrupted >>> I am stressed, sad, feel like a failure, feeling tired, depressed >>> I'm gonna sit on the couch and mope, get some chocolate and popcorn and binge >>> thinking I am a failure, I ate too much, I don't feel good >>> become even more depressed, sad, etc. >>> sit on the couch again and do nothing and eat some more garbage >>> thinking about...and this continues until you are believing you are a fat loser that will go nowhere and has no control over their own actions.
Can you fix it? Yep. The circle goes in a positive direction too and you can go from depressed and sad and feeling like a failure to thinking positively, you can get up and go, feeling proud of yourself, eating correctly which makes you even more proud etc. Which in turn will will change your belief in yourself and you will be superwoman of healthy goodness. The trick is to maintain superwoman of healthy goodness despite the pitfalls and succumbing to that damned chocolate cake...to be continued. Sorry this is all mashed together, but I've had a busy week and I was a bum about posting. last week, I was just lazy and didn't feel like it. I'm being accountable for my laziness right now and countering it with posting. :)
Friday, July 9, 2010
The "group"
Yesterday was group for GB. It wasn't exactly what I had expected. Some members were 9 weeks into the program, some were 3-4 weeks in, me and one other guy were noobs. We started out talking about our 4th of July weekend and what we did, and what we did to continue on our successful paths to self control or whatever. Everyone had a story about how they failed in some way. One lady had a cookout and her friend brought a dessert she loved. She failed because she had a piece. Another lady lived on a farm and struggled with the traditional meat and potato and gravy dinners every night for the farm help. One guy drank beer. Me. We went to the cabin and cleaned it top to bottom because it was our first time there since last fall. We swam and fished and ate a lot of hot dogs. Do I think I failed? No. Yeah, I ate hot dogs and chips with everyone else, but that was 1/3 of my time spent. The rest of the time I was active with cleaning, cutting wood, walking, swimming, fishing. The room was quiet. Everyone was looking at me. I'm not sure if they were thinking uh huh shes a noob, or if they were thinking, how dare she think like that! We must be perfect! Hot dogs are not acceptable skinny people food! Of course, I then had to say something since I was like to catch fire with everyone's stares. "Why can't you have a piece of cake? A cookie? why do you have to cut yourself off from everything? Isn't this about moderation not deprivation?"
Finally the lead lady said something about being aware of your choices and taking responsibility. Yeah, yeah. I got that, yet I think the moment would have went better if I said I ate fruit and veggies all weekend (which I did) along with the hot dogs and chips...not sure.
There was a quiz in my book about how I feel about myself 1 being bad, 10 being good. At this point, it looks like I'm pretty close to killing myself number wise. we take the test 2 more times during the course of the group, so we will see if I have any self esteem at all by the time its time to get my reroute.
I have to give up soda and coffee. Both of which are not good for my "pouch" which is what you call your walnut-sized stomach after surgery. After a year I might be able to have a taste of coffee, though some people never are able to tolerate certain things again. I guess I can give it up. I mean, I love my coffee, but it is one of those treats I don't have to gorge on to really enjoy. Chocolate...that one will be hard maybe. I did go without it before though when I was pregnant. looking back on my journal, it seems I didn't really miss treats so much once I eliminated them. I feel the most sympathetic for the beer drinker guy. He loves his 3-4 beers a day like I love my 3-4 cups of good rich coffee.
Another thing I brought up is the fact that after surgery, your probably not going to feel good-as in, after one bite of something you could very easily throw it up if its not the right thing. Beer drinker said, "I intend to feel very good after surgery." Yeah...missed my point, but everyone started laughing so I was unable to explain myself. Am I really the only one who knows that this is really going to suck balls if you don't follow the directions? I'm sure there is a reason you only get broth and crystal light for the first month after surgery. Since throwing up is torture to me, you better believe I'm not gonna go out and buy 3 pounds of Lindors and sit down and eat them.
Anyway, there were a couple of people who came up with some cool solutions to their sedentary jobs. Like the office guy got a "Tred-Desk" that sets up on your treadmill where you walk very slowly all the time while at your computer. Thats cool, but I was trying to figure out how I could have one of those and still run my foot pedal; however, Casino girl said that she got one of those big giant Pilate's balls to sit at her computer with. It actually takes a lot of strength and effort to keep you balanced while you work. She said that by the end of her night, she was getting so tired, she actually fell off her ball twice. I could use my pedal with that, but is there a ball tough enough to hold me? Casino Girl is only 200 lbs at the most. I can't even believe she is being considered for the surgery, but whatever. Maybe she has health problems. So, I'm going to look for a Pilate's ball for chicks who aren't kiddin'.
Finally the lead lady said something about being aware of your choices and taking responsibility. Yeah, yeah. I got that, yet I think the moment would have went better if I said I ate fruit and veggies all weekend (which I did) along with the hot dogs and chips...not sure.
There was a quiz in my book about how I feel about myself 1 being bad, 10 being good. At this point, it looks like I'm pretty close to killing myself number wise. we take the test 2 more times during the course of the group, so we will see if I have any self esteem at all by the time its time to get my reroute.
I have to give up soda and coffee. Both of which are not good for my "pouch" which is what you call your walnut-sized stomach after surgery. After a year I might be able to have a taste of coffee, though some people never are able to tolerate certain things again. I guess I can give it up. I mean, I love my coffee, but it is one of those treats I don't have to gorge on to really enjoy. Chocolate...that one will be hard maybe. I did go without it before though when I was pregnant. looking back on my journal, it seems I didn't really miss treats so much once I eliminated them. I feel the most sympathetic for the beer drinker guy. He loves his 3-4 beers a day like I love my 3-4 cups of good rich coffee.
Another thing I brought up is the fact that after surgery, your probably not going to feel good-as in, after one bite of something you could very easily throw it up if its not the right thing. Beer drinker said, "I intend to feel very good after surgery." Yeah...missed my point, but everyone started laughing so I was unable to explain myself. Am I really the only one who knows that this is really going to suck balls if you don't follow the directions? I'm sure there is a reason you only get broth and crystal light for the first month after surgery. Since throwing up is torture to me, you better believe I'm not gonna go out and buy 3 pounds of Lindors and sit down and eat them.
Anyway, there were a couple of people who came up with some cool solutions to their sedentary jobs. Like the office guy got a "Tred-Desk" that sets up on your treadmill where you walk very slowly all the time while at your computer. Thats cool, but I was trying to figure out how I could have one of those and still run my foot pedal; however, Casino girl said that she got one of those big giant Pilate's balls to sit at her computer with. It actually takes a lot of strength and effort to keep you balanced while you work. She said that by the end of her night, she was getting so tired, she actually fell off her ball twice. I could use my pedal with that, but is there a ball tough enough to hold me? Casino Girl is only 200 lbs at the most. I can't even believe she is being considered for the surgery, but whatever. Maybe she has health problems. So, I'm going to look for a Pilate's ball for chicks who aren't kiddin'.
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