I wish that when the doctors did my surgery, along with taking out the 85% of my stomach, they also took the 85% of my brain that makes me think like a fat person. I’m not even hungry, I know I’m not. But I just like the taste of food. I like to wonder what I’m going to eat for each meal of the day, and how it’s going to taste, and how I’m going to make it. While I’m on purees this week, I’m trying to think of different ways I can make it taste better. I’ll have tartare instead of having pureed fish soup; gross.
I’ll go and think like a fat person, and will put something in my mouth, and then my teeny tiny stomach will remind me that I can’t take so much. This whole journey is a huge process to take in, and people don’t seem to understand that I can’t change overnight– I’m talking to you Ronnie. As sick as it is, I still think about what my next meal will be, and what my first meal on solid food will taste like. I want filet mignon, we all know that.
I wish I could start thinking with a healthy brain rather than a fat girl brain. Too bad they haven’t come up with a surgery for that yet.
So, I just stuffed myself, not realizing that I just had my entire stomach removed, and now I feel like I’m going to barf. So before I go ahead and do that, I wanted to say thank you again to everyone that has been so crazy nice to me during this whole thing. My Mommy Ronnie Ginger, I’m sorry I was mean to you at the hospital, you just like to touch me a lot, and when I’m in a lot of pain, I just want to be left alone. Also, I don’t like when you compare me to Grandma Gillian. To Manny Ginger, thank you so much for everything, and spending the day at the hospital to keep Ronnie company. I loved my Teddy Bear, and it was nice to have something fuzzy to sleep with at night while all I heard was coughing and yelling in the hallways. Thank you to Donald Chow for staying until nighttime and coming back at 6:00 am to watch me walk the halls looking for a popsicle. Thank you to Holly Netherwood, Barbara Candyland, Rhoda Clarice Greenberg Adams for checking on me so much and making sure I was ok. Thank you to the nice nurses that medicated me just when I needed it, and of course the nurse that came to burp me when I thought I was near death. Thank you to Auntie Shonda Clementine and Auntie Candy Vagine who came over the same week of my surgery to clean my entire apartment from top to bottom; which I still kept clean by the way. Thank you to my Grandma Gillian for making me chicken soup, and my Papa Zack that calls me everyday just to hear my voice. Thank you Margaret Steinberg and Dale Morganstein who came to visit me in the hospital and witnessed my infectious IV getting taken out. Dale, that was really sweet of you to hold my hand while Donald was gone. Thank you Morris Levenstein who took the time everyday to send me a nice message and cheer me on with my progress. Thank you everyone at work today that made me feel extra popular and cool and came up to talk to me today and kept telling me how great I looked (Keep it coming, by the way). Thanks to everyone who likes all my selfie pics on Instagram on Facebook. I’m cool like that.
A huge thank you goes out to all that have contacted me, it truly means a lot to me… the littlest things have the greatest impact.
Valentines Day is a day for single people to be upset they’re alone, fat girls to eat chocolate and watch The Notebook with their friends Ben and Jerry, and girls in relationships not being happy that their boyfriends didn’t send them the right flowers or the right kind of expensive chocolates.
Well, every fat girl loves to get chocolate on Valentines Day. I didn’t get that, not even a chocolate pudding. I got a Vanilla Yogurt though. I couldn’t finish the yogurt, because I was so full from just one bite; well really, it tasted terrible, like rotten cheese. Donald Chow tried his hardest though. We had a great Valentines Day, even though he doesn’t believe in it. We went to the hair salon and I got some crazy blonde highlights. I figured, new me, new hair, why not. The do-master had crazy eyes once I told him he could go crazy and cut off as much as he wanted, and color it whatever color he wanted. They surprised me, and now I feel like a heavier, prettier version of Jennifer Aniston. I’m kind of looking more like my mom. I can’t wait to see the face she gives me when I have to pick her up from the airport tomorrow; it’s either going to be the “what the hell did you do to your hair” face or the “omg, I love it, you look just like your mother” face.
Anyway, this Valentines Day turned out to be amazing for me, because while all you skinny girls were gaining weight with your chocolate covered strawberries, and fancy meals, I got a new hairstyle and I look hotter as each day goes by.
While I’m sitting here sipping on my brocoli soup, and getting full by 1/4 cup of this lovely mouth watering puree of vegetables and milk; I can’t help but think that I will be model-esque in no time! However, I must admit that I am driving myself crazy, and I am DYING for some solid food. It’s been close to one month since I had textured food in my mouth. I don’t even care for the taste, just a little teensy bit of texture–pretty pretty please! The doctors say I will only be able to start eating solids on March 11th of this year, but I seem to be progressing amazingly, so maybe they’ll let me sneak in my 1 oz. of filet mignon before the end of February, or even a piece of salmon sashimi. I walk by people in the food courts of malls eating salmon, and just want to reach over and steal that salmon from them, it’s just so orange and looks full of deliciousness.
I need to express my excitement, that finally for once in my life, I feel like I will be able to fit in. I can’t wait to go to the restaurants with all the skinny girls with low cut shirts and too tight jeans- and order a garden salad, and wait for it… be FULL after five bites. I really didn’t think I would notice a difference, or even ever be cured from my love for food. But as it turns out, I’ve been cured. Literally less than half a cup of soup makes me want to puke my brains out, and I never want to sneak into the fridge to get something more. (Unless its filet mignon, because I’ve been craving that for 28 days now).
Anyway, if anyone would like to join me for my solid food meal on March 11th, I’ll be going for some filet mignon … 1 oz exactly. Can’t wait!
I am now officially twenty days into this new lifestyle change, and have taken off 26 pounds. While that may be a whole lot of weight for a normal person, I don’t seem to notice much of a difference. However, last night something huge happened, out of this world huge! So I’m getting into bed, and before I do, I do my usual routine ; I brush my teeth, wash my face, get ready, then lastly, I get on the scale, check the mirror to see if I notice any changes. I didn’t really notice anything until I saw what I’ve been waiting forever for– MY COLLAR BONES ARE COMING IN! I swear, and it wasn’t like I needed to make a duckface Facebook picture from an awkward angle to get my collar bone to show. It was just there, naturally, without me trying. I could lie to everyone and say that I went to bed right away and didn’t make a big deal, but I’m no liar. I did a fashion show at 1:30 am to see which of my clothes would show off my new bony friends, and proceeded to google collar bones and then Facebook stalk some skinny girls. The slight visibility is not me saying I have lost all this weight, but I am just so thrilled and things are actually working. To all you “normal” people, having collar bones is probably just a normal thing and you don’t really care, and I’m sure you find a reason to hate them, like you hate everything else about yourself (sorry, fat girl is coming out again), but to me this is HUGE. I have never been more thrilled.
I need to go warm up some of Mama’s Homemade Pureed Soup….Yum!
Waking up from surgery, I see ten nurses around me- poking me, sticking things up my nose and putting stickers all over my body. My mouth is so dry due to the fact that they decided to stick a crazy long tube into my throat to help me breathe. I start licking the air but I can’t control myself. The fat girl inside me, screams for a diet coke… Apparently the nurse didn’t want to give me diet coke, so he gave me ice chips. That’s cool too I guess.
I was reading online about how I would feel after surgery. A lot of websites mentioned that I would be gassy, however, for the first time in my life I feel like I had the opposite effect. Nothing would come out! I immediately thought something went wrong so I called the nurse over and politely asked him to burp me. Yes, that is correct, burp me. Like a baby. He gave me this puzzled look; the one my mom usually gives when I wear red lipstick, then raises my bed and starts burping me like a newborn child. After one minute of that amazing massage, the most amazing burp of life came out and a big smile came on my face. Who new gas could make someone so happy? The doctor came out to see how I was doing and all I could say was that I wanted my mommy. Those words exactly.
When I was finally able to be released from the recovery room, I was so excited to get wheeled into my fancy private room! Little did I know Ronnie Ginger and Donald Chow were waiting to greet me with hugs and kisses. Ronnie even thought it would be appropriate to videotape the whole entrance into the room thing on her iPhone. She’s so technologically advanced! Throughout the first evening, my support crew of Donald and Ronnie decided it would be funny to laugh at me because I was so needy, and even compared me to Grandma Gillian during her hospital stays. Rude. (Sorry Grammy!)
Monday morning, I walk in to the admitting department of the hospital not knowing what’s about to come my way. I expected hospitals to have long wait times, so I anticipated having about an hour of dillydallying time. WRONG. They took me in right away. So as I walk into the Operating Room Floor, this overly friendly man immediately asked me to disrobe and put all my clothes in a garbage bag? (What is this, prison?). I’m sitting in this chair half naked waiting for the OR nurse to come get me. All these doctors keep walking by me with lunch boxes, so I figure I’ve got at least thirty minutes to take a quick nap. I close my eyes, and then all of a sudden, just as I close my eyes- this large, heavy set woman comes and calls my name. We walk the halls together, and she puts this gorgeous shower cap on me, instructs me to sit in this normal sized bed. You would think for bariatric surgery they would at least give you a double; yeah right. Suddenly at that moment, it all became real. Doctors kept coming up to me, introducing themselves, poking me with needles and putting strange clothing on me. As I’m put on the operating room table, the last thing I hear is : “ok, we’re going to inject Propofol now”… I respond with “isn’t that how Michael Jackson died?”… Then I took a long nap…