Archive for the 'Lap-Band' Category

Published by PaintingChef on 27 Apr 2012

I do love them… even the wonky baby toes…

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that this whole weight loss thing has gone about as far as it is going to go without me putting in a ton of effort. I have to be honest… up until this point, I’ve kind of coasted. And while the shrinking of my fat, cottage cheese ass has led to me being naturally more active, I haven’t made any huge strides in the exercise department.

As much as it pains me to say, I think the time has come for that to change…

Here’s the problem. Despite my very active past, I have exercise. I loathe it. I despise sweating and if you don’t mind, I would very much like to just sit here on the couch with my puppies and indulge in this all day Veronica Mars marathon, thank you very much. It’s not like I’m hooked to a cake IV the whole time (is that a thing? A cake IV?) but I’m probably not running in place either. Does getting up to pee count? Shifting position on the couch? Yeah… I didn’t think so.

As mentioned, I do have a very active history. I have been a dancer, runner, swimmer, ice skater and aerobics instructor. I worked at a gym all through high school and the majority of college and, in general, I kept shit under control. But not because I enjoyed it. (The exercise part, I mean… we’ll get to the rest in a minute.) I did it because I liked how it made my ass look in those jeans. That’s pretty much it.

With the exception of the dancing and ice skating. I loved those. I would immerse myself in the movement and the music and the way they kind of flowed together and took control of my body. And laugh if you will but I LIKE the way my permanently jacked up feet feel no pain and allow me to wear those ridiculous shoes.

Which leads us to this…

And these…

And I can’t lie… I’m a perfect cocktail of fear, excitement and anticipation… I kind of feel like another lost part of me is finding its way home again.

Published by PaintingChef on 18 Jul 2011

Six Months.

I knew I felt different. Better. You’ve heard about it, I’ve told you. But what I think I hadn’t realized was this…

This is really happening to me. It’s a big deal for me to put this up here. We hide ourselves a lot, even online. No matter how much we say “total honesty” and “nothing is sacred” or whatever. The fact was, I was kind of hiding the fat from you. The full extent of it. Because I’d been hiding it from myself. But there it is. And it isn’t me anymore. I’m not there yet, there is still a long way to go. But this is what has happened to me in six months.

My life and my body are mine again.

Published by PaintingChef on 28 Jun 2011

In the immortal words of L.L. Cool J… “Doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well”

I know I haven’t mentioned the whole weight loss thing here much recently. Oh please, let’s be honest with one another, shall we? If nothing else, at least we can do that. I haven’t mentioned much of ANYTHING here recently. I’m not complaining. Or making excuses. I’ve just been busy. And happy. And did I mention busy? None of which allows much time for the things that fly through my head at the most inopportune times (should I keep a notepad by the crapper? In the shower? WHY are these the main places that I think of things to talk to you about?) to find their way here to this hallowed pages.

Hallowed? Really? Yes really. I was immersed in some Gilmore Girls reruns yesterday while it rained and somehow my mind is stuck in kind of a private school Ivy League place and instead of deciding what to make for dinner, I spend my evenings wondering if my life would be different had I actually used my 184 IQ for something other than mixing drinks, writing papers for other people for cash and learning the ins and outs of the economics of selling pot. Somehow I kind of think it wouldn’t and that makes me happy. I like where I ended up and, like Tim Riggins, I have no regrets

(LIE! I SO should have spent that year I was unemployed in Augusta making a habit of going to the gym instead of eating shells and cheese and running up credit card debt. Also? That one boy that time in college. Oh. And the one in high school. Him too. MISTAKES.) (And that haircut. The short one. No, not the CUTE short one, the REALLY short one. And perhaps that phase where I wore long blazers and leggings and boots. Maybe… that actually may have been kind of cute and quirky. And maybe quitting the cross country team but I tend to lump that one in with one of those boys.)

Where was I? Ah. Yes. That whole don’t be such a fat ass thing. Usually I tend to not talk about something because it has been neglected. For details, please refer yourself to many prior posts about things we don’t discuss. But that’s actually not the case this time. It’s going well. REALLY well, in fact. I’m not going to tell you it’s easy because it really isn’t. Not exactly. But it is… easier? Regardless, whatever it is, it’s working. I’ve lost almost 70 pounds. And that’s kind of a big deal.

But I find myself noticing little things that are different. Ways that my life is different. Or, more like it used to be…? It’s not necessarily the numbers on the scale that I notice first although don’t get me wrong, I’m on that scale at least once a day if not more. It’s not quite the frightening piece of glass and metal that it used to be. But that’s not the big thing. The big thing is that my outlook is different. My attitude has changed. I don’t mind being the person that gets up to do something. That weeds the garden. That walks the dogs. That goes to the store. That has to run through the airport because we forgot to confirm that the plane was at the same gate that was printed on the ticket and oh look! It’s not! I don’t make excuses to not get up and do something. I just… get up and do it.

I am sleeping better. I am three sizes smaller and FOUR bra sizes smaller than I was 6 months ago. My rings are all too loose. My shoes (OH GOD… MY SHOES) are a little too big. (Anyone out there wear a size 10 shoe…40 in European sizes? Let’s talk… my babies are going to need a good home if there are ones that won’t fit again once I stock up loads of insoles) Chairs feel larger, airplane seats are more comfortable, I’ve had to change the position of the seat in my car, my couch feels larger, my shower bigger, everything, except for my ass and my pants, feels bigger. And don’t get me wrong, those things are all nice and they are tangible and I notice them. They are important. But looking better is, in a way, a side effect. I feel like the changes are from the inside out. It’s a long process. And I’m only halfway there. But the choices are easier to make. I’m not scared of myself anymore. I trust myself to not only KNOW the smart thing, but to actually DO the smart things.

I don’t deprive myself. If I want something, I have it. There is chocolate in my house. There is ice cream. There is wine… OH IS THERE WINE. But it no longer has the power over me that it did. I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t feel like I’ve ruined myself and my body and that I’ve done so much damage that it can’t be reversed. I don’t look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that it is too late for me. I no longer see my outward appearance as just another symbol of my inner weakness and failure and inadequacies. I am strong. I am happy. I am becoming healthier every day. I am proud of myself and I’ve worked hard.

And I’m doing this FOR ME. I am allowing myself to be selfish and put me first. Yes, this will help me be a good mother and a good wife. A better sister and daughter and friend. But above all that is that it will make me be a better ME. I’m finally becoming present in my own life again. I’m showing up. I’m determining what is next and I’ve finally learned that it isn’t too late to choose my own adventure. This summer, I will learn to wakeboard. I will get a tattoo. I’ve had purple hair. I’ve pierced my nose. I’ve stopped being afraid of being seen at the fat girl, even if I still look a little like her. I know that inside, I’m not her. And I’m just getting the outside to match that.

It’s hard work and it’s a long process. But I’m doing it. Every day. And that’s all that matters.

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Mar 2011

She also mentioned I would have been too scared of getting kicked out of the house or at the very least losing my rent money had I attempted any of this in my younger years…

Something… odd is going on. I’m not sure how to explain it but we all know each other here and you know how I stumble around for a few weeks before actually just SPITTING IT OUT ALREADY OH MY GOD SHUT UP so I’ll see what I can manage. I would like to assure you that should you ever be unlucky enough to be trapped in conversation with me in real life, I would do exactly the same thing and then immediately follow up with a splash of red wine on your shoe. Or your carpet. The moral of which is NEVER invite me to your home. Or if you do, only serve water. And like… broth with a side of Spot Shot.

I’m losing weight, which was absolutely and 100% The Plan. I’m quite pleased with the way the numbers on the scale are shrinking at a steady rate and I’ve done more than my fair share of naked happy dances behind the closed bathroom door. But I’m starting to feel… unsettled (?) with my appearance. I’m starting to crave some change. It started with the bright purple streaks I’m currently sporting and loving. But lately I’ve been thinking I might want to pierce my nose too.

There is also a tattoo in the works but I’m saving that for a very definite milestone, one I’ve already determined. I’ve decided on the tattoo and the location and that is all very much settled. But that milestone is still a long way off. Too long for me to be satisfied in the short term.

Patrick thinks I’m insane. Obviously. But what I think he forgets is that we got together right when I was entering my “tame” phase. I used to be a little braver with my appearance. Oh sure, skinny bitches pull this shit off much easier than someone with a little more padding and I’m not anywhere close to the skinny bitch side of the spectrum. However that isn’t keeping me from wanting to change up my appearance like I used to do on a regular basis. Right before Patrick and I (re)met and started dating, I was planning on piercing my eyebrow. I’m 33 years old now and too damn grown to pull that off (or to even be interested in trying) but the rest of it? Yeah… why not? I think I want to pierce my nose. Just a little teensy stud, not a ring. I don’t think it would even be all that noticeable. But I would know it was there.

I was telling my mother about this and she wasn’t the least bit surprised. She reminded me of my wilder days. She said she feels like I’m kind of rediscovering myself and this makes sense. First I was wild child. Then I had a scare, calmed myself down all at once and nothing second and then almost immediately, I fell in love and got married. She said its like there are still two parts of my personality who haven’t been in the same place at the same time and maybe this is all about me meeting ME all over again. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see the me that I feel like I know. Don’t get me wrong. I love my life, my husband. I’m thankful for every misstep I ever took because it got me where I am today and I LOVE where I am. But I think that somewhere along the way, I felt like there was a part of me who had to be buried, as though it was too contradictory this image I had of what I was supposed to be. Trying to stuff myself into a mold much like I used to try and stuff myself into those skinny jeans… it ain’t happening and its better for everyone involved if I don’t even try.

So this is all about rediscovering who I am. Melding my youth with my adult life and allowing myself to be comfortable in the two co-existing in the same person. So does that make me the 33 year old with purple (and possibly pink) hair, a stud in my nose, a tattoo on my wrist and wearing a cute little floral dress? Yeah. Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that. I feel like I know that girl. I feel like she is someone who is finally ready to stop hiding behind one of the many disguises she has (fat girl, good wife, perfect hostess) and just allow it to all blend together and believe that she deserves happiness and health without having to stifle any part of what’s there.

Yeah… I think this could work.

Published by PaintingChef on 08 Mar 2011

Version 2.0 kind of mucked up the works for the rest of us.

In my previous incarnation, I was, without a doubt, a fairly active individual. Aside from the fact that for all of high school and a large chunk of college, I worked at a fitness center, I was just… active. Somewhere along the way, I lost my love of activity and movement. I’m not sure how it happened… I would try and blame it on all the drugs but even then I would surface from a haze a few times a week to really sweat it out in a good aerobics class. Although sometimes I think that was more of a cleanse than for actual exercise. Let’s face it… all that pot and vodka had to come out somewhere… right?

Version 2.0 was somewhat… lethargic. We tried a few gyms and I just never got into any of them. I tried valiantly to blame it on not liking the facility but I think it’s time to fess up… I just loved cookies and a good cozy couch and sleeping late on Saturdays a little bit more.

The problem was this… (well, the problems were many but this is one that I realize now kind of trumped everything else) I forgot that aside from being good for my body, regular exercise helped my mental health almost as much. I’m prone to pretty heavy bouts with depression and anxiety. Shocking, I know. And while the happy pills help out, without exercise, I pretty easily sink back into the dark place. And that’s exactly what Version 2.0 did. Quickly, I might add.

Lots of things can put stress on a new-ish marriage but a wife who is suddenly ballooning in size and can’t seem to shake herself out of a funk, quits her job and then racks up a few thousand in credit card debt because she is trying to shop her way to mental health is probably up there on the list. So… that sucked.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I think that, when you finally make a decision to make a drastic change, examining how you got where you are can help you heal. Does that make any sense at all? So while I could pretty easily identify how things got as bad as they did (the depression and the infertility and the this and the that and blah blah blah OH MY GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP) what I couldn’t really lay my hand on was how they… started? Like, I’d found the bottom of the cliff where I was sprawled in a chocolate icing coma but how did I find my way to the edge?

So I think that’s what I’m trying to determine. And the two or three of you that are left here and still read this (seriously… it’s gotten so quiet around here. I’m getting a complex) are just so lucky that you get to watch some naval gazing. Because isn’t THAT a change?

None of this is to say that I’ve made huge strides in the exercise arena… sure, when it’s pretty Patrick and I take the dogs for a walk on the weekends but that’s about it right now. But… I get it. It finally clicks. And… I’m working on it. I’m trying.

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