Posted by Sherry , Saturday, May 22, 2010 Saturday, May 22, 2010
Being a mommy hurts sometimes. Yesterday was one of those 'painful mommy' days for me. Unfortunately, I was fresh out of vodka so had to deal directly with the pain instead of numbing it the way God intended.
There was some crying and A LOT of whining and even a full on 'time out.'
So while I was sitting there, facing the corner until I could learn to behave, I tried to use the time productively and find some blogging inspiration.
But honestly? I'm just not feeling all that inspired lately.
As you will note from my previous post, I am feeling no restriction. And chances are you've heard me screaming at the top of my lungs that my willpower is on its last leg. So when my darling, no-napping daughter began her umpteenth tantrum of the day I found myself wanting to dull the ache in my head with food. Do they make birthday cake flavored Excedrin?
Anyway, I started thinking about Greek food. Steak kabobs with cucumber sauce. Feta cheese. Paprika sprinkled hummus drizzled with olive oil. I can honestly say that one of the things that kept me from going through the roof yesterday was that tzatziki dipped carrot dangling at the end of my rope.
So I did it. I had the Greek food. A lot of it. I was so full and bloated with sodium my ring finger looked like a platinum banded sausage. And, well, It.Felt.Good. SO GOOD.
To be perfectly honest, until I really started thinking about it an hour or two ago, I didn't feel anything but pure happiness about my Greek food-filled evening.
Of course now, when I'm sensing that the 2 pound loss I had for the week (yeah! Two whole pounds!) was probably sabotaged, I'm feeling a little guilty. And depressed. And annoyed.
But honestly, I just don't have it in me this weekend to sit back an analyze my Friday actions. I just don't want to. Is that so bad? I don't WANT to examine it. I don't WANT to work at resisting temptation. I don't WANT to examine my relationship with food this week. I don't WANT to change my comfort mechanism.
I guess I'm just channeling my inner petulant toddler.
Posted by Sherry , Thursday, May 20, 2010 Thursday, May 20, 2010
I'm feeling really frustrated. I don't even think I can be interesting or creative with this post because I'm so consumed by frustration. I'm in Frustrationville and on my way to Pathetictown.
Went in for another fill today. Was given .75cc. That means I'm up to 2.75 cc in a 10cc band. And guess what? I feel NOTHING. It's as if I have no band in me whatsoever. I may as well sit down at the Heifer Corral and stuff my face full of $2.99 ribeye with a side of fatness. And cornbread.
I NEED RESTRICTION. Hear that universe? I NEED RESTRICTION.
Leona is failing me miserably. I'm cursing the ground she sits under and her little-millionaire-dog too.
I'm lucky if I lose 1 pound a week! WTF?!
The kicker? I'm working my flat, bumpy ASS OFF. I am boot-camping it Demi Moore style with my trainer. I'm walking like a fiend (think 45 minutes a day) and while I'm probably not the poster child for eating band friendly, I'm doing all the 'right' things. Protein first, not drinking with meals, taking my vitamins. But I AM HUNGRY. I can't seem to get enough food in me. A cup of food at a meal? That's a cruel joke right now. Try twice that amount and still walking away from the table hungry.
I feel like a split personality. Oliver on one side: “Please sir? May I have some more? Sherry's willpower on the other: “More?! You want MORE?! Ehh, fine. Go ahead.”
The ironic thing is that I am STILL eating eons less than I was pre-band. But again, it is all personal willpower. And those last little threads of willpower are starting to shred and taper faster than my split ends.
Why isn't this working for me? I'm starting to spiral into crazy-town. I'm thinking that I indeed am the one person on the planet for whom the band does not work, even when the user is working it.
And ONE STINKING POUND A WEEK?! Seriously, has anyone else done worse than this for being 9 weeks post-surgery? I doubt it. I have come to accept that I am a “slow loser” but this is ridiculous. I mean, what else can I do? Really? I am at a loss.
I read blogs where bandsters are munching on cookies and candy bars. Where they don't even look at a gym, much less go to one, and yet they are losing 2 pounds a week and feel like its 'not enough'.
Re-reading this post I see I have begun the metamorphosis from 'frustrated' and 'pitiful' to 'angry' and 'insane'. And frankly, I don't even want to reel it in! I want to kick someone's ass! Harder than I'm kicking my own!
Ugh. I feel like crying. I seriously feel like crying.
Posted by Sherry , Tuesday, May 18, 2010 Tuesday, May 18, 2010
A friend of mine posted this link on her facebook page today: http://theshapeofamother.com/save-our-daughters/
I've really been enjoying the links and information I've found through the site. I won't go into all the gory details but it should not be surprising to those of you who have daughters (or even those of you who are daughters!) that one of the driving forces behind me getting the Lap-Band is my desire to be healthy and set a good example for my daughter. Not just in how I look, but also in how I think of myself, how I judge myself and how I judge others.
Posted by Sherry , Friday, May 14, 2010 Friday, May 14, 2010
Posted by Sherry , Tuesday, May 11, 2010 Tuesday, May 11, 2010
He is REALLY pushing me to my limit. Its like he doesn't even care how much he hurts me!
I have his undivided attention for about 30 minutes at a time but during that time he isn't really listening to me, just giving me orders or acting like what I say doesn't matter.
And when I really feel like I can't take anymore, he bats his long lashes at me and expects me to just bend over and do whatever he asks. And because I'm weak, and never feel like I know what I'm doing anyway, I just do it.
Today he made me do things that I felt stupid doing. Things that, if you were just kind of glancing at us, would look dirty and WRONG. But I do them, and I keep coming back for more. Its almost shameful.
Somewhere in me, I know that all of this will resolve itself. I'll get stronger, more confident and not feel so pushed to my limits. I won't cry or ache. I'll walk away from him feeling powerful instead of just feeling like I was hit by a mack truck. A mack truck full of cement.
Its all just a matter of time, I suppose. In the meantime, I'll take whatever he dishes out. I'll lap it up. I'll push through.
After all, he knows what's best. He's my trainer.
Posted by Sherry , Sunday, May 9, 2010 Sunday, May 09, 2010
I had my first fill on Friday.
After a few questions about what I was able to eat comfortably -- Pasta? Check! Rice? Check! Bread? Check! Pint of Ben & Jerry's? Double check!---I was given 3cc's of fluid and then taken into the x-ray room where she had me do a barium swallow. The P.A. thought I looked a little 'tight' as she watched the barium go down and so took out 1 cc (for those of you 'mathematically challenged', that means I now have 2 cc's in my 10 cc band). My office protocol post-fill is two days of liquids and 2 days of soft foods and then onto solid foods.
I left the office feeling pretty good and since I hadn't eaten anything yet, went to Starbucks for my Skinny, sugar-free, vanilla latte. Yum!
By early afternoon I was feeling pretty hungry so decided to have some Greek yogurt. That went down pretty well and the tummy was still growling so I had some milk. Yep. Still hungry. And noticing that all of this is going down not just well, but feels like its just rolling right through that little pouch. Now, I think we've established that my willpower is pretty non-existent, hence my lap-band surgery, so it should be no surprise to you that when Husband pulled out the pulled pork, I dove in face first.
And it too went down without a hitch.
Now, I won't bore you with too many other details but let's take a quick peek at what else made it into my gaping maw this weekend:
Tortellini in tomato cream sauce, focaccica bread, baked, dry chicken breast, a crossiant, a large white chocolate cinnamon chip scone (the latter two from an awesome French bakery in town and served to me in bed this morning).
Now, should someone with 'restriction' be able to eat these things? Quickly? Without even feeling a teeny tiny bit of tightness? I think not.
So I penned an email to the P.A. begging to get an appointment this week and feel some of this elusive restriction. PLEASE.
Urgh. This is all so frustrating. When will this band stop teasing me and start working? When will I be able to share the burden of this weight loss with Leona? Because right now, its ALL ME. And I'm just not that reliable.
Posted by Sherry , Wednesday, May 5, 2010 Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Is it the magical powers of the Banded Blogging sisterhood? Or is it just the magical power of me getting my panties in a bunch and making waves with my doctor's office?
After reading through responses to Monday's post, Leona and I got more and more agitated. I pulled out my Ouiga Board and channeled that old, baggy bitch and I sent an email to appropriate persons in my doctor's office. And although my email was very professional (I kept the 'fucks' to a minimum), I was also crystal clear regarding my desire to be treated like a patient, not a bother.
And lo and behold, the 'Bariatric Coordinator' at my doctor's office called me FIRST THING Tuesday morning to apologize and assure me that I was not a cog in their surgery wheel and that I would not need to wait a month for a fill.
She listened, she cared, and most importantly, she gave me her direct line to call should I have any trouble getting an appointment in the future. It is now on speed dial and Leona is pleased that her serfs have gotten back in line.
Truthfully, I'm blowing a little hot air here. My email was as professional and straight forward as any I've ever sent --- after all you get more flies with sugar than with poop or whatever – but I TOOK CHARGE OF MY OWN HEALTHCARE.
This is new for me. And strange. I'm navigating uncharted waters. I've always put my personal health as a low priority – if on the priority list at all. I have size 18 jeans, an extra large muffin top and a lap-band to prove it.
Despite my socially unacceptable 'size', I've always been confident. Even at my heaviest weight (now), I've exuded confidence. People tell me so!
In fact, I've even been known to be called 'intimidating' and when I dig deeper with those that call me such, I find the words 'really confident' come out as explanation time and again. I even once had a boss tell me during a review that I was 'too confident'. Funny, I'd never considered that to be a bad thing. But a know-it-all 22 year old in her first job,needs to temper her confidence so as to not unsettle the shaky, middle-aged, middle-managed ground on which she walks.
For whatever reason though, when it comes to my body, I've always found it hard to stick up for myself. Perhaps because, when it counts, I'm naked in a robe two sizes too small with my butt flapping in the wind and yet having to smile and make small talk with a FULLY DRESSED person who is carrying a clipboard. What is it about clipboards and the way they signal “authority figure who is smarter than me”?
George W. Bush should have donned a white coat and clipboard more often. I probably would have believed him about the whole “Weapons of Mass Destruction” thing. Maybe I would have even believed that “strategery” was a real word. Who KNOWS where our former president would be today if he had JUST carried a clipboard!?
In any case, until recently the Sherry in a doctor's office was never the same Sherry that was anywhere else. Confidence gave way to confusion. Outspokenness bowed down to mumbling. Sometimes I even just nodded in agreement when I definitely disagreed! THAT IS NOT THE SHERRY WE KNOW AND ADORE!
So, Monday's email to my doctor's office and subsequent phone call with said office is a step in the right direction for me and my health care.
Obviously my Band is helping me to become the person (physically) that I WANT to be. But what surprises me the most is how much its helping me remember who I really am.
Posted by Sherry , Monday, May 3, 2010 Monday, May 03, 2010
Banded Friends, I need some advice.
I just called my doctor's office today to schedule a fill. This will be my first one as at my 4 week post-op visit I was told that my barium swallow showed my band to be offering 'perfect' restriction. I knew I was feeling hungry but figured they were the experts and I'd see what happened.
I was told to come back in a month to reevaluate and possibly get a fill. This made me nervous as I could see that my ability to 'pack it in' was growing stronger every day and I expressed as much to P.A., Brett.
Brett's last words to me as I left his office two weeks ago were “If you are able to eat 6 ounces of medium-well steak at one sitting, give me a call and we'll get you a fill.”
So since that visit, I've done eat'n them 6 oz of medium well steak TWICE. And usually with some vegetable. And I'm still hungry less than three hours later. Even a rookie Bandster knows that means its fill time.
I call today and am told the first available appointment is in FOUR WEEKS. Yeah. Um, nope. I refuse to rely on my willpower for the next four weeks. I sure as hell didn't pay $27,000 to gain back the 15 pounds I've lost. I threw a ROYAL FIT (as only I can do) and convinced the receptionist to put me in as a 'double booking' knowing I'd probably have to wait awhile.
I asked the receptionist if this was normal and she said "Well, the idea is to make your next fill appointment before you leave the office after each fill." Obviously this woman does not have a band or she would know that makes NO SENSE AT ALL. How the hell can I know if a month from now I will need a fill or not?
So, my questions are as follows:
1.Is this a normal wait time? Seems obnoxious to me.
2.Is there a way to just find a 'fill' doctor? How would I go about this?
I'm floored and pissed and feel taken advantage of. If I'd known this was going to be the case – that they are just "SO busy!” and need me to know in advance what my hunger level will be, I probably would not have chosen this practice to begin with. And you can better believe I'm going to tell them this on Friday.
Ok, rant over. Deep breaths.