sweet seventeen and all the gruesome details

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it’s coming up on my 17th blogging anniversary.  next thursday will mark the first time i ever logged into blogger.com, typed some shit and posted it on the internet. (that’s not the first time i ever put anything on the internet, but it was the beginning of this 17-year string of websites tied together with a continued theme:  me me me me me!)  i usually forget about it until sometime in mid-august, so it’s kind of nice to be early this year.

i’ve been thinking about plunking down a bunch of words about my life lately and the things i’ve done in the last couple of years.  i know i haven’t kept y’all as informed as the good old days when my blog was really the only place for me to get my shit out.  now, i have a tight group of friends and an amazing boyfriend i can be really real with, so i don’t seem to need a safe space to unload anymore.  and, when i do, i’m more likely to crypto-post on facebook or, if it’s particularly dark, tumblr.  which is good!  i’m actually really glad of that!  but, it does mean that when i stare at this text box with the intention of sharing with the group, i feel like i’m just rehashing stuff which has already been said.  and i’ve always been super sensitive about repeating myself to people.  i feel like i’m just annoying them if i’ve forgotten i’ve already told them that story and keep going about something. anyhoo, here we go.

on march 26, 2015, i had a vertical sleeve gastrectomy.  that means, i had 80% of my stomach removed via surgery.  at the end of the year following, i weighed 125 pounds less than i did at my highest weight.  today, i maintain a ~110-lb loss, with which i am totally satisfied.  most days.  just because i’m more average-sized now doesn’t mean my head isn’t still a jerk and i don’t have “holy shit, i’m huge and ugly days”.  as the weight loss surgery community keeps saying:  they perform surgery on your stomach, not your brain.  i am totally thankful and glad i made the decision to ask for this and that i had such great medical professionals to guide me through it all.   it hasn’t been easy and so many things about my life are so dramatically different now than two years ago, but i’d do it again in a heartbeat.

while i’m not shy about telling people about how i lost the weight if they directly ask, i haven’t exactly lead with disclosing my surgery.  that sometimes makes me feel like i’m deceiving people. so, i kind of consider this my coming out.  i had a lot of shame and fear about asking my doctor for this surgery.  i thought it meant i was a failure because i couldn’t lose the weight — ahem, keep the weight off — on my own.  i’ve since learned that it is nearly impossible for anyone to lose the amount of weight i needed to lose and keep it off for the long term.  there are exceptions, of course, but the majority of people will always gain the weight back.  i was not a failure.  biology fought me every step of the way.  if i wanted to live a long and healthy life, this was the only thing i could have done.

this past may, i had a bi-lateral brachioplasty.  that means, a plastic surgeon removed about seven inches of skin and 850cc of fat from each of my upper arms.  see, when you’ve been overweight your entire life, you’re over 40 years old and you’ve lost over a hundred pounds, you’re left with saggy skin which no amount of exercise, lotions, massages or laser treatments can improve.  and, in some ways, those empty, flappy bits are even harder to deal with, mentally and physically, than when they’re filled with adipose.  i’d been covering up my arms since i was a pre-teen.  first, because they were huge and i thought they were gross.  then, because they were saggy and wrinkly, and i thought they were gross.  so, when i started this journey, i knew that the end of it would include an arm lift to finally afford me the confidence to go sleeveless for the first time in my adult life.

surgery went well, and now that i’m almost three months out, i can confidently say that it was totally worth it!  i am so excited to be able to wear sleeveless tops… OUTSIDE MY HOUSE. the first time i went outside without sleeves, i felt so self-conscious; but, then i realized that no one knew i hadn’t gone sleeveless in public in 30 years.  i just look like everyone else to them.  no one was paying any special attention to my naked upper arms and shoulders.  dammit.  part of me really wanted to say to them “hey!  this is a big fucking deal!  my arms!  they’re out and proud!”  it’s been a huge boost to my well-being and, even though i now have scars which run from below to elbows to beside my breasts, i am entirely thrilled with how it all turned out.

and, in october, i’ll be going back to my plastic surgeon to have a circumferential trunk lift (or lower body lift).  again, because of my history being overweight, my age and my weight loss, i have a lot of excess skin and tissue around my midsection which impedes me both physically and mentally from living my best life.  this surgery will be the final step in my bariatic journey (until i win the lottery and i can get some new boobs, that is).  i’m looking forward it and getting my new-to-me body and seeing what it can do.

and, of course, no life update could be complete without talking about Brad.  *shmoopy smile*

so, yeah.  we met on tinder of all places.  i’d been dating online for two years, he’d been on tinder for two days.   he took me away for the weekend three weeks after we met.  we went travelling internationally after eight months together.   we moved in together after a year and a couple months.   and i wouldn’t change a single thing.

he is quite possibly the best person i’ve ever known and i doubt i will ever understand why he thinks i’m as amazing and worthy of his love as he does.  i’m just so grateful he does.

i haven’t really done much improv this year, mostly because of the two big surgeries — the timing was just off.  i was in three different programs at one time back in february and i got a lot overwhelmed and basically quit everything in order to save my mental health.  i felt terrible about having to, but as soon as i did, the amount of relief i felt assured me it was the right thing to do.  once i’m healed from the body lift, i look forward to rejoining the community and trying to figure out where i want to go from where i’m at.   i don’t know if i need to find a troupe to grow with or keep taking random classes with strangers.  i feel like i want to find a group of like-minded performers to tackle more meaty character and story development, as opposed to just finding the buttons for the audience.  the acting class i started (but had to quit) showed me that there’s a lot more under the surface i feel like i want to try my hand at.

improv has been so good to me, i don’t want to just drop it entirely.  i just don’t know where i want it to take me next.  or if i’m even up to the challenge.  while i may love it, it might not be the right creative outlet for me.  i’m still willing to keep trying, though.

the longer this post gets, the more i realize there is to say; but, i think this is enough for now.  thanks for reading and (for some of you) sticking around for the last 17 years.  blogging as a personal journal might not be the coolest thing on the internet anymore, but some of us have to keep the flame alive, dammit.  and i’m just old and cranky enough to do it out of spite, if i have to.   *smooch*

back up the truck, tony

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i realized yesterday that i have $2,000 sitting in a bank account. just sitting. it’s not retirement or car insurance savings. it’s just… saved. the me from 1995 is like “WTF? why aren’t you spending that shit and all the other credit on your cards?! we have trips to take and crap to buy!!” hell, the me from 2005 is wondering the same thing. oh, time. how she changes us.

i’m going through a really strong phase of wondering why the hell anyone likes me. seriously, i keep observing my interactions with people and just shaking my head in disbelief that they see anything interesting or attractive about my personality (we won’t even talk about my external parts right now). i haven’t had such a prolonged bought of the unworthies for a long time and i don’t like it much at all. btw, this isn’t a plea for reasons why i’m awesome (that’ll just make me feel less deserving of them = IRONY), it’s just a getting-it-out-there.

i’d love to stop talking about my cats now, but they’re so fucking awesome, how can i? my favourite Amy thing is when i get home from work and she jumps up on the bed to head-butt me until we’re both almost concussed. my favourite Rose thing is watching her tubby little tabby body play with her rattly mouse toy — she’s a roly-poly play machine with a killer pounce.

two weeks until two weeks vacation. omg, so close.

it may not be a dyson, but i LOVE my new vacuum. wow. really. LOVE. it’s actually a little bit obscene. yay bissell! thanks, scott the vacuum sales guy at sears. you done me good. except, now all i want to do is vacuum shit. good thing there’s lots to vacuum these days.

i can’t get over how pissed off i get if i can’t complete a workout. last night, almost at the end of bootcamp, i started to get a leg cramp. it’s not uncommon, but it is kind of weird. i can feel it coming on and if i don’t manage it just right my entire leg will go into spasm. so, i ripped off my knee brace (i think that exacerbates it) and spent the last ten minutes of class hunched over in the corner trying to keep my leg from falling off. grr. i try so hard and i’m so disappointed in myself when i can’t finish the circuit or have to modify everything too much. i just want to do everything everyone else does, dammit! it feels like such a failure.

i’ve had kingsley for a year already and i’ve spent a grand total of $150 on maintenance. HAHAHA! take that, liselotte! i’m so glad i made the decision to get a new car last year. it has removed such a huge worry from my mind. i get in, it goes, it stops, i get out. it doesn’t hurt that it’s zoom-zoom cute, either. yeah, king. you and i are going to go far together.

ow.

checking in on my boot-y camp

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these days, i’m obsessed with my pants.
eight weeks ago, i started a 12-week fitness challenge at work.  for the low-low price of $150, i would get three months of personally-trained bootcamp classes and nutritional counselling.  each four-week period would be assessed with a weigh-in, measurement and body composition analysis.   since getting back into the gym was the express reason i got my knee fixed last year, i was super excited to sign up and get going.
then i went to my first class.
day one nearly killed me.  at the end of the 45 minutes, i was dizzy, sweaty, nauseated and thought i might die. i barely made it down the stairs to my car to drive home and crawl up the Very Steep Stairs into my apartment where i collapsed on my bed and could barely get up an hour later to go feed myself.  the next two days my legs and ass were so sore, walking up stairs felt like all the muscles in the lower half of my body were ripping apart.  it’s not a feeling i ever want to experience ever again in my life.
every week my trainer, Rocky, would add new and more painful exercises to the circuit for his pleasure and our pain.  i learned that my left leg was considerably weaker than my right (which stands to reason) and my hamstrings were practically non-existent.  i also learned that i turn a scary shade of purple when exercising and when people see me like that they think i’m going to die a lot sooner than i do.  i re-learned that i like weights and hate cardio.
the first four-week weigh-in sucked for me.  i lost a grand total of .8 pounds (1.16 fat loss with a .36 lb muscle gain).  it wasn’t for lack of effort in the classes, that’s for damn sure.  it turns out that the food side of fitness/weight loss is probably more important than the exercise.   you see, i’d sat through all the meetings about the food plan and kind of poo-pooed it all because, as a fat girl, i’ve been paying attention and learning about food and nutrition almost all of my life.   so, when it came to actually walking the walk with what Rocky wanted me to eat, i played fairly fast and loose with his recommendations.
each week after submitting my food log to him for review, i’d get an email back chastising me for this or saying i should try not to eat that.  i slowly made alterations to my eating, but i was really resisting all the extra work and expense of my food requirements.  i got tired of cleaning, cooking cooking and eating vegetables.  i got annoyed with the added costs for yogurt and starch snacks and all that damn protein.  out of that frustration, i would go and totally pig out on weekends, justifying it because a cheat day was healthy!  and i’d been working out!  and i’d been so good during the week!
alas, that first weigh-in proved me dead wrong.  i was upset with myself for literally paying to fail.  so, i looked at the numbers and vowed that my second weigh-in would kick the first’s ass.  i was so devoted to killing my next weigh-in i went to class not once, but THREE TIMES during my VACATION!   who am i?!
last monday was my second weigh-in.  this time, i lost 8.8 pounds (6.51 fat loss and 2.29 muscle loss – oops) for a grand total of 9.6 pounds!  take that week four weigh-in!  i kicked your ass good!
okay, 9.6 pounds isn’t a lot, i know.  especially considering the amount i have to lose, but it’s all about the progress.  three months ago, i was heavier than i’ve ever been and i was getting quite depressed and scared for my health and future (or lack thereof).  my doctor put me on high blood pressure medication.  i was starting to realize that my pants weren’t fitting and i might not be able to find a bigger size to fit me.  this challenge came at exactly the right time and i am so grateful to be able to be a part of it.  this isn’t just about getting into my “skinny jeans”.  this is about saving my life and, after last September, i have a much more acute awareness of how easy that is to lose.
so, back to the pants.
i wasn’t sure, but about two weeks ago, i thought i started noticing that my jeans were falling down.  at least a little.   i couldn’t be entirely sure because there’s a small amount of stretch in them and it could have been the day three slackness which always happens after they get worn a few days in a row.  but this week?  yeah, my pants are definitely falling down.  and, while i KNOW this is good thing, i find i’m getting really annoyed by having to hike them up every half-dozen steps.   they’re not baggy enough to warrant a belt or replacing them with smaller pants (not that i can afford to buy new right now — hello, i bought a car!), so i’m in this frustrating in-between-land i’m going to dub Saggy Crotch Ville.  step-step-hitch-step-step-hitch.  that’s me walking down the hall.  SEXY!
the worst part?  i’m annoyed that i’m annoyed that my pants are too big!   WTF?
so, eight weeks in, my pants are falling down and, whenever my muscles or joints aren’t screaming at me for all this abuse, i feel freaking fantastic!  i can’t help but wonder just how awesome i’ll feel in another month!   hell, i might even have to go buy a belt!
finally, i wasn’t going to make this public, but maybe putting it out there will give me even more incentive.  i’m currently in dire need of a haircut.  in addition, i’ve decided that i’m going to get it coloured to hide the many, many greys which have started popping up unbidden.   i could go this weekend and be happy, but i’ve given myself a condition:  no haircut until i’ve lost 20 pounds total.  i’m hoping that by the next weigh-in i’ll have reached that mark and i can go get a fancy new do just in time for my birthday.   wish me luck!
and don’t laugh at my saggy pants, okay?

bigger isn’t always better

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i expected something like this.
yesterday, after getting home from my semi-annual dental cleaning and inspection, i received an unexpected phone call from my knee surgeon. this was good because in my nervous anxiousness in anticipation of my consultation i totally forgot to ask all the questions i’d written down for the occasion.
he tried so very hard to be tactful, for which i told him i was appreciative, but the gist of call was to tell me that i’m too fat for the ACL reconstruction surgery.
it seems that he’s been thinking about me and my knee and talking to some colleagues who have more experience operating on obese (there, i said it) patients. there are logistical concerns which come into play when the knee to be operated on is two or three times the size of an average joint. you see, they don’t yet make super-sized surgical tools for this particular operation, therefore, it would be more difficult and dangerous for him to attempt to rebuild my ligament because of my size.
needless to say, that is exactly what i was afraid of going into his office last week.
but, because i am tenacious and determined, i peppered him with questions and determined that he could still go in there and clean up the mess in my meniscus which would eliminate half of my current knee troubles. then, once that’s all healed up, i could start a weight loss program — complete with exercise i can’t currently do — to drop enough weight to allow him to go in to fix my ACL. he even said he’d give me a prescription for a very spendy space-aged knee brace to help support my knee until it’s operation-ready.
overall, it’s not an entirely dire situation. i knew surgery and recovery would all go smoother if i could drop some weight first. honestly, i was surprised he didn’t seem at all phased by the idea of operating on someone my size. i expected him to say something like “come back when you’ve lost fifty pounds” (which, ironically, he basically said last night) and shoo me off to find some way to do it with a broken knee.
so, instead of one surgery, there will be two. instead of being fixed by this time next year, it may take an additional year to be all repaired. but, there is a plan and my doctor is willing to work with me to get me fixed, even though it’s harder for him, for which i’m thankful.
now comes the hard work. but not until i’ve had my cake. ;)

snap, hobble, sob

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earlier this week i attempted to post something via imified, but it kept erroring out. i never found out if it was a problem with their stuff or my stuff, but it was annoying, so forgot to post it when i got home that night. then, i thought about posting it today, but upon reading it, i realized it was woefully out of date — scary that three days can have such an impact.
one of the items in the post was me talking about how i’d reached a dangerous part of my CFC journey. i had started to feel really good physically. i’d dropped a few pounds, but mostly i was experiencing a re-connection with the strength my body hasn’t felt in many years… and i was enjoying it. that part of my fitness experiences is dangerous because it’s when i tend to stop trying to progress. why bother when i already feel results? isn’t that enough?
the very same day i wanted to tell you about the potential motivational hurdle, i encountered a very different obstacle in my journey: knee injury.
i’d done my very sweaty thirty minutes on the elliptical. i’d stretched out. i’d done my upper body free weights. i was on the floor working my core when a mis-placed foot during a bridge pose caused too much torque on my left knee and SNAP! i was injured.
as soon as i felt that snap i knew what had occurred. it’d happened to me 11 years ago on a plane to Boston for Heather’s wedding. i couldn’t extend or bend my knee fully and any lateral movement was quite unstable. i was beyond upset.
i hobbled home, applied ice and took some naproxen for the swelling and went to bed. i kept waking up in the middle of the night as i rolled over, fearful of twisting something more out of place. silly me, i went to work the next day. silly, because the elevator doesn’t go to the floor my office is on, access is only by stairs. silly, because my work involves a lot of different locations and ambulation is fairly mandatory. i smartened up enough to call the doctor and make an appointment for that afternoon. i wanted to get any treatment needed underway as soon as possible. i had CFC to get back to!
the doctor pushed up my pant legs, poked, pulled, yanked and wiggled my leg for a few minutes all the while looking up at me waiting for me to wince or cry out in pain. the lack thereof was determined to be a very good sign. the diagnosis: twisted tendons, resulting in inflammation. the treatment: more anti-inflammatories and ice packs. the prognosis: full range of motion will return, give it 10 days.
the latter was the most important news. i was so happy to hear it.
i’ve spent the last two days at home, avoiding all those work stairs and required hobbling. my boyfriend has been incredibly sweet and attentive, quite overprotective and adorable, actually. range of motion has improved 50% already and i hope i won’t limp too much when i go to drop off my photo for the gallery show this afternoon.
slow and steady will have to be my mantra when i return to CFC. proper form, don’t exceed my body’s limitations, take it easy or i won’t be able to do anything at all.
while this could have been a Very Bad Thing, i believe it’s actually a Very Good Lesson. i just have to remember it in a month when i’m feeling cocky and strong again. over-confidence is the mother of all disasters.

onescore down!

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my body seems to hate me lately. it keeps wanting to wake up, and i mean WAKE UP, between four and five a.m. and if i dare to go back to sleep, it punishes me with the greatest form of weariness you can imagine when my alarm beep-beeps it is time to get up and go to work at six. i’m not quite sure what’s going on, but someone please send my body a memo that I’M NOT GETTING UP AT FOUR OR FIVE A.M. THANKYOUVERYMUCH.
then again, i probably shouldn’t complain too much. my body has also *cough*willingly*cough* let go of twenty and a half pounds of fat. that was a nice discovery last week. something about losing a score of weight that makes it all seem more real and continueable. so what if i still have lots more to lose? i haven’t been able to say i’ve lost twenty pounds in, um, eight years. it’s a major accomplishment. now if only i could learn to say no to creme brulee. mmm, creme brulee.
it’s almost time to start thinking about getting some new clothes. i have one pair of pants and three or so shirts that actually fit without making me look like some saggy shopping cart person. even my low-rise stretchy jeans are get a little droopy by the end of the day. i should be excited about this, but it’s hard to when you know that everything i’m going to buy will be replaced in a few months’ time. i think i’ll go look around value village. maybe if i don’t pay full price i won’t feel so bad about not wearing them for very long.

ramp it up!

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argh! muscle does not weigh more than fat! sorry, but every time i read that on the weight watchers boards i want to scream. i know what people mean when they say that, but it’s inaccurate and potentially misleading. one pound of muscle weighs exactly the same as one pound of fat. the difference is that the muscle is denser and is therefore one-fifth the volume of fat. stated sligthly differently: fat takes up more room on your body, that’s why two people who weigh exactly the same can look so different depending on the amount of lean muscle mass they each have. are we clear now? good.
last night i ramped it up and unwrapped the second tape in my slim in 6 journey. this tape is twenty minutes longer and includes some crazy lower body and resistance training exercises. i was completely drenched with sweat by the time i finished. the important part is that i finished it, though. i’m still feeling pretty good right now, but don’t be surprised if i’m hobbling around like a senior citizen later.
i treated myself for my good work last night by getting all snazzy in my new outfit today. new über-soft black slacks with my short-sleeve black & white gingham shirt with the white cuffs and collar. i even broke out the heels. yes, sir. i’m right dolled up. i feel very pretty and, not surprisingly, my mood matches.