People keep telling me how good I look, and how much has face has swelled down. STOP! The more you tell me I look good, the more I think I can eat more and think I look fine as it is. I want to have one of those crazy dramatic weight losses where no one can recognize me. I want my reveal to be something like on The Biggest Loser.
It’s crazy to think that a fat girl wouldn’t want someone complimenting them telling them how great they looked. I must have some sort of chemical imbalance in my head, but maybe I’m also just being realistic.
I checked the scale today, news flash– I’m still fat. What’s craziest is that I don’t even see any change in me, aside from my awesome collar bones. I don’t see myself shrinking, I don’t see my face de-plumping- nothing.
No more compliments until you can’t recognize me. Capeche?
I promised my Mom and Auntie Manny that I would never blog again about making fun of myself. However, this story is a hilarious one. Last night I went to bed at 3:00 am, I had a terrible night and was a grumpy case all night. Anyway, I finally fall asleep, and after watching four too many episodes of RHOBH, and seeing ten thousand commercials for The Keg, I found myself going to bed hungry. I promised myself that the kitchen was the forbidden zone after 8:00 pm. So I stayed in my bed like a proper young lady. Anyway, I had the most INCREDIBLE dream about meat last night. It was like Willy Wonka’s magic land, except with filet mignon, and roast beef, and steak and steak and steak everywhere. It really felt real. So real in fact that I think I started eating my arm by 4:00 am. I wake up this morning at 7:00am to find that I am sleeping in a pool of drool. I have never had a dream that felt so real. It’s sick and funny all at the same time. I’ll chew the meat without swallowing it at this point, I just don’t remember the taste at all.
Someone needs to kick the fat girl out of me. I’m making myself sick!
I think right now, my biggest problem is still forgetting that I have a stomach the size of a baby banana. My brain still functions in the same fat way, but I can’t seem to keep myself busy enough to remember that I’m not hungry. I walk around, find a snack and stick it in my mouth. Right away though, I know it doesn’t sit well with me, because I run to the bathroom like Brad Pitt is in there and I want to be the first one to touch him.
I’ll always remember that day in the hospital, when Dr. McDreamy said to me “Don’t stretch out that beautiful little stomach of yours”. This meant so much to me. Mainly because no one has ever called my stomach beautiful, or little. But it also needs to stick with me more. I need to find constant reminders to tell myself that I am not hungry, and that I am just bored.
A lot of people think that this surgery is just an easy way out, and it all comes so easy and there’s no working for it. Sorry to say it fools, but you’ve never been more wrong. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Harder than learning to tie my shoes. Eating habits change, ways of looking at food change, everything changes. It’s not easy, and I can promise you that. I wish I could say that it was easy, but it’s not. Yes, at this moment the weight is coming off quicker than all other diets that I have tried, but at some point, the fun weight loss part of it is going to end and the sucky reality part is going to kick in- where I have to tell myself when to stop.
Right now, my biggest task this week is to differentiate when I’m bored from when I’m actually hungry.
For the first time in my life, I’m not hungry. I have snacks on my desk at work and I don’t even want to look at them. I take a bite of my afternoon snack and I’m done. This is crazy. What’s even crazier is that I can sit and eat lunch with a group of people and not stare them down while they eat. I’m actually full after eating part of my lunch, and the sight of food makes me sick. I’m so proud of myself that I’m actually sticking with this, and it actually works!
I finally looked in the mirror yesterday and was so happy to see my shoulders. They were so evident and I couldn’t stop staring. I was like one of those really creepy guys in the metro that just looks at you funny with this creepy look and doesn’t stop staring; except I was staring at myself, so I couldn’t have been that creepy. I also feel my jawline, and I keep rubbing my face. My mom tells me it’s bad for me to touch my face all the time, because I’ll get pimples. I really don’t care if I get pimples at this point, I’m super happy with my jawline bone structure thingy, or whatever it’s called.
It’s a crazy feeling knowing that I’m actually doing something, sticking to it, and it’s working!
Rhoda-Clarice, Barb, Lucinda and I all had lunch just now. I enjoyed eating with them because they don’t look at me with big eyes, wondering how I’m going to eat. I eat just like them now… like birds. I didn’t sing because I was busy laughing. I was telling the table how in 1988 I was the longest baby born, and then Barb asked “in width?”… like how big did you think I was Barb, a 60 pound baby? We had a good laugh. I was always a skinny baby. I have a theory that fat babies always turn out to be the skinny ones later in life, and skinny babies turn out to be the fat ones. Hope I have a super fat baby!
I did something today that I never thought in a million years I would do. In front of everyone, I lifted up my shirt to show my sexy new scars. Thirty pounds ago, I never would have been able to do that. I still am a little shy about it, but I also know that I will never be this way again. It’s all going down from here.
It’s so nice for me to see that people are actually noticing a change in me, because I really don’t. It could be partly because of my scale addiction, and also partly with the fact that I look at myself everyday. Last week Ronnie Ginger told me how happy she was with me, and really noticed a change. She said “I don’t look at you like a fat person anymore”. Most people with think that’s rude and mean, but I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
I posted my before picture just so the world can get an idea of my beautiful face…
I’ve become obsessed with the scale. Every morning I check how it is, then I take my shower and weigh in again. After I get home, I’m shocked to see that I’ve gained a pound, and then once again before bed. The scale is not my friend. The scale does not like me. The scale will sabotage my weight loss and I need to stop getting on it.
I get on every morning patiently waiting to see if I’ll break the next digits. I get excited with every ten. I’m not a very patient person, so this is a very hard task for me to do- to completely stop.
So I’m trying to change… If someone would like an almost new Weight Watchers scale, Let me know!
I’m still trying to adjust to my new stomach, but it’s so hard. I still can’t seem to remember to chew slowly. I feel like I should sing a song between bites. Maybe that would help; but maybe it would also bother the people around me. To tell you the truth, I will do whatever it takes to not feel so full to the point that I want to throw up. I feel so bad for everyone who will need to witness my amazing voice. They might even lose their appetites after hearing it.
Before I got the surgery, I was NEVER full. I could keep eating all day long, anything and everything in sight. Now, after a teeny tiny piece of food, just looking at it after I’m stuffed makes me sick. It’s crazy to me to think that after literally two hours of surgery, I have changed how I feel about food. This is not to say that I don’t like food, I still love it, and I still have the problem of thinking of what I’m going to eat next. I’ve been walking around the office today saying to myself “Eat to live, don’t live to eat”– I just need to keep repeating that to myself and stick my BEFORE picture on my wall in front of my face.
Until then, I’ll try some Oops I Did It Again at lunch tomorrow…