Two Sticks or a Lighter
Things that don't make sense:
being able to eat a beef taco, 10 chips, guacamole and a few bites of cheese enchilada 1 day post fill
not being able to eat 1 chicken nugget 3 days post fill
eating turkey sausage and sauteed summer vegetables 2 days post fill
feeling momentarily stuck on Greek yogurt 3 days post fill
the 1969 "moon landing"
me, after 2 margaritas
Lady Gaga
Confucius once said, “A cake in the fridge is worth two in the bakery.”
I believe he was making a dig at Buddha and his weight problem. Personally, I think the spiritual leader just had slow metabolism.
Trust me Buddha, I KNOW what you went through.
Anyway, the great philosophers would probably have a thing or two to say about the fact that the birthday cake sitting in MY fridge in MY house only has one tiny slice missing from it and that slice was not eaten by yours truly.
Yesterday was my birthday and it was a great day all around. See, I got wise this year and wrote down specific instructions on “How to Make Your Wife's Birthday Perfect” for the hubby. I even highlighted section 1, point A: “Cake”.
So when he walked through the door last night he had bakery cake in hand. Two-tiered, white iced, polka-dotted, heaven, coming straight for me.
But guess what? I forgot to circle and star and put a check mark next to the part of the “Birthday Outline” that says cake should have BUTTERCREAM FROSTING.
What I got was a whipped cream laden imposter. So after the 'Birthday Song' serenade and candle blow-out, I took a couple of finger licks and decided I really wasn't all that interested. It just wasn't worth it.
Me. Not interested in cake. Huh. Weird.
So after I parcel out a tad for H and Ruby to enjoy after dinner, the rest of the cake will be making its way over to my neighbors' house. They have two lanky, always hungry, teenage boys who I have actually seen dilacerate a cow in a matter of minutes and then ask for seconds.
I have a fill scheduled for tomorrow morning and if all goes well, cake will simply NOT be physically able to be on the menu. I'm desperate for some real restriction. I am just not confident that I'm able to keep up this level of willpower when it comes to portion size.
My weigh-in day is tomorrow and I'm expecting to either weigh the same as last week or be up just a tad due to the celebratory eating that ensued yesterday and last night – Hey, I said I turned down the CAKE, that doesn't mean I turned up my nose at the spare ribs and cocktails. I'm only human!
In the meantime, I shall leave you with this final Confucius quote. I like to think of it in regards to my SNAIL'S PACE weight loss: “It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop”.
Also a good quote for sex.
Help! I'm mindlessly eating pretzels and watching Roseanne reruns!
Guess who went on vacation for a week and LOST weight?!
As I waddle around Myrtle Beach in my JCPenny tankini (more on why I am wearing a $14.99 old lady fat-squisher-outer and not my ultra-flattering, SPECIAL ORDERED miracle-working swimsuits later) I find myself searching here, there and everywhere for my Band.
Are you there Leona? Or are you too busy forging tax documents to be bothered with helping the little people?
As a tourist here in the Redneck Riviera I have stumbled upon such lovely items as Golden Oreos, meat-monster pizza, bacon cheeseburgers, 36 oz. margaritas, ice cream cones called “Birthday Cake Carnival” that come in a cup the size of a 2 year old's head and fuzzy navel wine coolers. And let us not forget -- the most beautiful mullets I've ever seen (one Kentucky Waterfall in particular was so beautiful it almost brought me to my knees). Yet, for all these fantastic pieces of American culture I have found, my Band remains elusive.
I don't remember leaving it at home but then again my husband packed the car and if Leona is stashed away in the big white and blue beach bag that contained ALL OF MY SPECIAL ORDERED SWIMSUITS (not to mention Ruby's adorable boutique swimwear, waters-shoes and swim diapers) then, well, it is probably still sitting in the foyer next to the garage door.
Now, as most of my fine readers are or have at one time been 'big girls' I feel I can safely assume that you indeed empathized (perhaps you even gasped in horror) when I told you that upon arriving at our lovely beach-side hotel, I found that in fact I was sans ANY SWIMSUIT OF ANY KIND. At the beach. Hours and hours from home. Without a swimsuit. Over a size 14.
Now, for a 'normal' sized girl, a forgotten swimsuit whilst on a beach vacation is perhaps worth some frustration. Perhaps even an hour or two of whining. But for those of us that shop in the big girls section some, if not all of the time? Well, THIS IS A TRAGEDY.
Ladies and gentlemen, I seriously cannot think of a worse vacation mishap. Jellyfish sting? Pee on it! Lost credit card? Use your debit! Broken flip-flop? Duct tape! Lost contact? Put a patch over your eye!
But a “big girl” has forgotten her swimsuit? Folks, we've got a jumper!
A big girl can't just walk into any old store and pick up a swimsuit. We have to try on hundreds if not thousands of them. We have to find something that covers the lumps and the bumps. And if we're under 75? Well, we'd prefer to find something that ISN'T pink and metallic gold hibiscus flowers with a granny panty bottom and ruffle around the middle (because that's JUST what we need as big girls! We need MORE FABRIC around our waist line! Thank you SO VERY MUCH fashion industry!) But surprisingly, its freakin' HARD to find a plain ol' black swimsuit that covers your lady bits when you are over a size 14. You have to special order them and pay $120! Which I did!....and it is sitting at home, mocking me as we speak.
So much to my dismay I'm donning a black and white tankini top- the VERY LAST size 18-carried in the “Everyday Woman” section of a JCPenny located in a local mall that has two other stores: one that sells fake flower arrangements and one that sells airbrushed t-shirts that say "I'm with Stupid" and beer koozies. From the outside this mall actually looks like it is frowning. Sad, sad mall.
That said, I'm happy that I was able to find something that fits and I'm trying to 'rock it' as best I can. But I would be lying if I didn't tell you that it makes me look just a tad like an overweight safari animal.
"Look kids! Its a zebra! On the beach! Wearing broken pink flip flops! With a patch over one eye! Quick honey, get the camera!"
The good news? The bottoms are just a regular old XL. From the LADIES section. I guess this zebra's ass is finally shrinking!
I think I am quite possibly the perfect model for "NEEDS RESTRICTION".
With absolutely no physical trouble and sadly, no mental hesitation, I recently finished off a piece and a half of pizza. And some fruit. And about 6 oz of diet coke. And, um, a very large piece of pound cake.
I am sick and tired of doctors and other health professionals talking too much and not listening enough. SICK OF IT.
"Where did all this rage come from, young Jedi? you ask. Well, in a nutshell, Sandy Lee's blog.
It's not her fault, she's simply relaying information she was given from her doctors and health professionals. And we like to trust doctors. We want to believe doctors. We want to put our problems in their hands and have them fix us.
They are doctors after all! They have more schooling than us! More money than us! They carry clipboards!
But what MOST of our doctors DON'T have, is our problems. Whether it's obesity, migranes, back pain or excessive flatulence, typically our doctors don't have our issues. They have medicines and rehearsed advice and books and AMA guidelines and clipboards. But they haven't lived in our bodies or felt our pain (mental, physical or perceived).
With regard to obesity, most of us have surgeons and doctors and physician's assistants who are not, have never been and never will be obese.
If dieting worked, none of us would be overweight. It is not rocket science. It isn't even 7th grade biology. It is a fact of life for those of us who have had weight struggles. Dieting, especially in the mental sense, is detrimental. It is detrimental physically, emotionally and frankly, it just plain SUCKS.
Furthermore, if a private practice Lap-Band surgeon knew that their nurses, P.A.s and nutritionists were telling potential patients that they had to 'diet' the rest of their lives, you can bet they would nip that in the bud quicker than you can say “bankruptcy”.
Look at it this way: If, while investigating the Lap-Band, you were told that after surgery you would have to count calories every day, eat 'diet' foods 99% of the time and STOP YOURSELF from eating when you are hungry, would YOU have signed up for the band? Think about it. Would you?
I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I would not.
I'm going to take it further. I think its a farce that most obese people eat terribly. Most of us just eat too much. Period. Most days we eat vegetables, fruit, protein. And some days we eat Ritz crackers and peanut butter. But generally, the reason we are fat is because we just eat larger quantities than our thin friends.
In fact, I would even venture that many of us are even PICKIER than most people about what we will eat. We want GOOD food. We want things that taste, smell, feel and look satisfying.
This isn't to say we never eat Doritos, but we appreciate a the finer things when they come our way. We savor ethnic foods. We dream of homemade pasta. We get nostalgic over grandma's pastries. We won't turn down a box-made brownie but we'll get positively poetic about a homemade one. Especially if it is made with Chilean vanilla extract. And Georgian pecans. And love.
Leona and I haven't yet found our stride. We're still working out the kinks and facing daily power struggles. But we agree on one thing: To succeed, we need fills. Fills take the reins when we cannot. A fill reminds us to quit when we need the reminder. I will say it again: WE NEED FILLS.
I will not be the first nor the last to say that I did not spend thousands of dollars, hours in a hospital, heartache in the decision-making and headache in the surgery aftermath to be told I have to DIET for the rest of my life. Make healthier choices? Certainly. Cut down on portions? Sure! Work out my mental issues with food? I'll try. But diet? No way. Uh-uh. This girl said “no more” to dieting on March 19, 2010. And I'm not turning back.
***This is not a commercial for Verizon, Google, Motorola or any of the soon to be mentioned products. That said, if a representative from said companies want to give me free stuff, I will totally take it. Again, not a commercial***
It's fun to complain about our phones, isn't it? Pre-cell phone days I could get my complain-on about my home phone service like nobody's business. Sometimes? When I was in a bad mood? I would just call BellSouth or MCI or whomever provided my phone service and just bitch about how much my bill cost, how there was always this little humming on the line, how sometimes my phone would stop working for no reason and how in my opinion “you phone service jerks are barely a step above the CABLE COMPANY! And that is BAAAADDD.”
Then I'd hang up and bake a cake. That's why I got fat.
Then came cell phones. I was 22 when I got my first one. To those of you who don't remember life without cell phones and are incredulous that I was able to exist without being reachable 24 hours a day and are marveling that there was a time when the “Can you hear me now?” guy was not a recognizable face, I say, "Those days WERE GRAND". Also, I had to walk uphill BOTH WAYS to get to The Gap.
I bought my first cell phone from a telemarketer. As a salesperson myself I have a soft spot for a good sales pitch. I know you often wonder aloud who purchases things from telemarketers and moan about how they interrupt your dinner and how DARE they call YOUR home and didn't you sign up for the “Do Not Call” list? But I don't mind them. And if they are selling something useful like a toaster that seconds as a calculator or a set of Chinese encyclopedias, I'll buy it. Well, if its priced reasonably.
Hence, my first cell phone!. It was blue! It fit in my largest Nine West purse! It didn't charge me for ANY calls made between the hours of 10pm and 10:46pm! On Tuesdays. In March.
Since then, I've had my share of cell phones and spotty cell phone service. Up until recently, we had Sprint. Most people I know are relatively happy with Sprint. And, mostly, I was too! From 10pm – 10:46pm. On Tuesdays. In March.
The biggest issue I had was with a ½ mile stretch of road near my house where my calls would ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS drop. This stretch of 'no-call land' was on the main road that takes me to my house. The calls always drop right in front of the local middle school and I feel certain that the middle schoolers in my county have dirty little mouths because they have heard me cursing Sprint and its mother every day for the last 4.5 years.
Why in front of the middle school? Is it a front for some CIA operative? Are the JV Basketball cheerleaders a secret special ops force? Are pimply faced 12 year-olds diffusing bombs with their frog-carcas dissection tools? WHY???!!!
I've analyzed this time and again. Just ask Joanie the Sprint service representative who hears from me every afternoon during Ruby's nap-time.
Fast forward to January of this year. You'll see me, with a Verizon Droid. Its purple! It doesn't drop my calls! It fits in my back pocket! It brings me breakfast in bed! Does YOUR phone do that?
Now, fast forward to me in the Chicago O'Hare airport this weekend. Look into your crystal ball and you will see me running as fast as I can from the very end of Terminal 3 to the very end of Terminal 1 to catch the last plane to Raleigh for the night. And missing it. By 3 minutes. Because the plane decided to leave EARLY.
You'll see me screaming at the ticket agents and gnashing my teeth and crying too but pass right by those images and instead focus on my using my PHONE in ways I never imagined.
You'll see me using my PHONE to book a hotel for the night, find a shuttle to said hotel, set an alarm because clock in hotel room did not work, scour Web sites for alternate flights, get flight status updates, book a rental car when I realized I would have to fly to an alternate city further from home, call husband and cry, call mother and cry, call friends and cry, read your blogs, play “Word Up!” for a distraction from my boiling anger, update Facebook status reminding airlines I would like them to “suck it”, pull up rental car confirmation, update Facebook status telling airlines to also “bite me”, navigate my way home in rental car using GPS system, update Facebook to tell airlines to “kiss my fat ass” and finally, using my phone to call my husband and daughter to tell them I was 10 minutes from home.
While the airlines, airports, ticket agents, flight attendants and air traffic controllers were screwing me over royally and generally being bastards, my cell phone was pulling for me. It was there when no one else was. It was my travel agent, my connection to the outside world, my saving grace. Thank you Verizon. Thank you Google. Thank you Motorola. And thank you Sprint customer service representative “Joan” for finally suggesting I switch cell phone service providers.
I know, I know, you're wondering "Just how old ARE you Sherry?" and you're thinking I've just wasted your time waxing philosophical about a CELL PHONE.
Just wait until I post about how much I love my washing machine.
***The Verizon Droid with Google service can be purchased for the low low price of $199 plus S+H! Act now!!!*** KIDDING!!!
Band news:
I got a fill last week. It has helped but not fantastically. I had a fight with the P.A.s It wasn't pleasant. But they finally gave in and gave me 2ccs which puts me at 4.75 ccs in a 10 cc band. I'm feeling 'some' restriction but not a ton.
Frustrated because I have definitely been eating less and getting full more quickly. I've also been exercising like crazy and yet seem to have stalled on the scales. I'm blaming water retention for now since there was alcohol drinking, air travel, stress and not a lot of water drinking while I was away for the last 5 days. That said, if I don't see a budge this week, I'm going to be back in the doctor's office begging for another fill.
My original goal was to lose an additional 14 pounds between now and September but at this rate, its not looking hopeful. Kind of depressing.
