Day 4 With The New Girls

Well there you haven them. The before's and the four days later.  Once my mother finds out I have posted these pictures, I am sure I will receive a call reminding me that if they are on the internet...they are forever...and that someone in China may be stealing my credit card info.

But until then....let's face it.  We know each other.  You know about my turkey waddle...you know when I get sunburnt on the cho-cha.  You have seen my boobs pooling in my bra. 

We are at the point in our relationship that I can share these pictures with you.  AND...you can't even see my nipples. AND...my head is not in the pictures, so technically...if these ever appear on 20/20 or The Queen Latifah show...I can say they aren't mine...that I was just holding them for a friend.

So they day of surgery we arrived bright and early.  6:00 am for check in time.  They called me back into the changing room where I got my pretty little robe and these sexy compression socks that hit me at mid thigh.  They should brace you for that...it was very much like recreating the moment when I open the can of cinnamon rolls and half of the dough is sploojing out of the can...except the dough was my thigh meat and the can was the compression sock.  So I got those on, opened the door and blew a kiss to Heather, and padded back to the exam room in my baby blue non-slip socks.

I was nervous.  More nervous for this than the lapband.  After they started my I.V., my sister and Heather came back to keep me company until Dr. Patterson arrived.  Once he came it, he stood me up with his magic marker and started drawing out the masterpiece.  He asked me what size I wanted to be.  I said small C.  I told him to keep these words in mind "cute, perky, sporty".  We were not going for "pornstar".  He was on board.  After that, I kissed Heather goodbye and headed to the operating room. 

The operating room is the scariest part.  I remember it being the scariest part of the lapband surgery.  They strap you down before you are even asleep. 

And then..

bam...

I am awake. 

After I could talk and make  a little pee in a cup, I was free to go.  Heather took me home.  I took my pain meds and slept for a little while.  Then I watched Season 5 of Sons of Anarchy with Heather...and slept some more.

On day two, we drove to the doctors office for my follow up.  All looks well.  I can't tell you how many times he and his office staff stressed the importance of DOING NOTHING...that the worst thing I could do was try to do too much too soon. 

When I first saw the new tats, I was pretty happy.  I was expecting bruising or something.  My nipples are taped bc they got snipped off for the lift, and the scar under my boob where he inserted the implanted is also taped.  The tape will stay on for 2 weeks...unless it falls off sooner.

They are still really swollen and high.  It will take about 6 weeks until I get a true idea of what size they will be, and up to 6 months before they start to really take their place where they will settle.  Heather keeps calling me Dolly, but has been a really good caretaker. 

The sportsbra/compression bra that they gave me to wear is super tight.  It is a size 32.  I wear a 36.  But, the tightness of that and the swelling in general has made my band pretty tight.  I don't know if it's the tightness or my pain meds, but my appetite has been minimal.  Which is awesome bc this not being able to work out is freaking me out.

I will keep you guys updated! 

hugs and motorboats...

Amy

oooh...ps...I have some bent over pictures of the old girls...but I will wait and reveal those when I can take some bent over pictures of my new girls.

Tomorrow I'm Swappin' Out the Sags for Some Perky Girls!

Above is a picture of the last time my girls will run an obstacle race.  They will be replaced tomorrow with new chesties.

Here is the skinny.

I am getting a breast lift with augmentation.  The lift is performed first.  He will make a keyhole incision around my nipple, take the nipple off, cut out the extra skin, put the little nip back on and stitch it up.  Sort of like this.

Then, the implant will be put in through an incision under the boob fold. 

Dr. Patterson talks in cc's.  So when people ask me what "size" I will be, I am not sure.  Probably a C.  He will decide during the surgery if he will be putting in 300cc implants or 325cc's. 

My surgery is at 7:00 am and it should last 3.5 hours. 

I have taken before pictures.  I will be wrapped/bound until my 2 day post op on Thursday.  He will unwrap me and take a look see, then wrap me back up.  I should be able to shower after that, so when I return home...I will try and take the first after picture.  I will try and post side-by-sides at least weekly. 

I am nervous, scared, and excited.

Let's cover that in the order as listed above.

Nervous:

That I will die.  I mean...anything can happen right?  I will be covering this matter with Heather when we get into bed tonight.  In lieu of flowers, I would like donations sent to the animal shelter in Topeka, KS.  I also have two life insurance policies that give Heather and my mother a good deal of money.  I mean...not enough to whack me over...but enough.  Heather is to donate some of that money to the shelter as well.  At my funeral, I want there to be a dance off between some of my favorite queer fellows, meatballs, and queso.  I do not want to be cremated.  I want to either be dipped in bronze (or platinum) or entombed so people can worship me.  Also, I will let Heather know that she is not to date or have sex again.  At least for 10 years.  This is not a Nicholas Sparks novel.  I do not wish her to find happiness with another meaty woman for a very long time.  Then end.

I am scared that I will not like the new boobies.  AND THAT'S A LOT OF MONEY TO SPEND ON SOMETHING SO PERMANENT!    What if they are too big?  What if they are too high?  What if...you know?  There are a million what if's.  What if Heather hates them? 

I am also scared of how much pain I will be in.  I have a pretty high pain tolerance...but I just don't know what to expect.  Maybe it won't be that bad. 

I am scared that maybe they will look amazing...and that will make the rest of me look even worse.

And excited...

Yes.  I am so excited.  I am excited to be able to wear a strapless dress.  I am excited to be able to bend over during sexy times and not be distracted by my swinging ladies.  I can't even really imagine.

I am off work for two whole weeks...which is also rather exciting.  Heather will be with me for 3 days.  I will post again as soon as I can...

until then...

hugs and kisses and sweet dreams of fields of lilacs and pert nipples!

The Day My Back Massager* Caught Fire

Many moons ago, I decided it was time to upgrade my battery operated back massager*.  You see, my battery operated back massager* would run out of battery juice preeeeetty often.  To often for a girl in her early 20's who, while she did get her back massaged by others, never REALLY got a good deep tissue back massage....you know....the kind of massage that helps you see the Lord and helps you to fall asleep with a little smile on your face.

So, I did some research and decided to invest in what was referred to as the "Cadillac of Back Massagers*. 

Recently, I had to lay to rest my third installment of my Magic Wand, pictured above.

One problem with corded items that see a lot of use, and then get their cord wrapped around them so they can fit discreetly in a sock drawer, is that over time, the place where the cord connects to the base of the "wand"...well that connection starts to frey a little.  The rubber coating the covers the wires inside of the cord starts to crack and give way to the actual wires.

Well one day a couple of weeks ago, after a particularly fine massage, I went to turn unplug the little guy to return it to it's home in the drawer, and before I could get to the wall...

well...

it kinda caught fire. 

Seriously.  There were sparks shooting from the torn cord.  It was like fireworks.  One little spark landed on the damn carpet and I thought I was going to have to stop drop and roll...naked.  I managed to get my little friend unplugged though...managed to stamp out the potential carpet fire...and stood there in my bedroom....back massager* in hand.  It was over.  The time had come.  I walked into the kitchen and stood in front of the trash can.  I briefly thought of burying in the yard under the oak tree.  But I didn't want to have to shovel dirt with my lady bits flapping in the wind...so I placed it in the trashcan and said goodbye.

It could have been worse I guess.  I could have caught my cooter on fire.  That would have been an uncomfortable conversation to have with the ER doc...and my girlfriend.

Happy massaging my friends!

*If you are a member of my family or one of my coworkers, please know that I really meant my back massager.  If you are anyone else, you may replace the words "back massager" with vibrator.

The end.

Low Hangers and Low Spirits

One forgets when one is not blogging, how wonderful getting comments on blog posts feels.  Thank you guys for all your comments about yesterday's post regarding my impending plastic surgery consult.

Now for the results.

First, I decided to see Dr. Nathan Patterson.  Dr. Patterson came to speak at our WLS support group several years ago, and I remember liking him then bc a) he wasn't trying to sell us on his services, b) he was honest about expected results, and c) he was cute.

So Heather and I arrived at the appointment. 

First order of business, they take me back to the changing room, complete with a white fluffy robe, and they hand me my disposable blue panties fashioned from, I am pretty sure, paper towels and string.  On to the picture room and Heather was waiting for me.  Angie (the office coordinator?  Nurse?) set up the official camera, had me drop me little old robe, and started taking pictures of my belly and then my boobs.

At this point we got to feel some implants from a drawer and I probed Angie about her own boobies. 

Off to the exam room.  Angie hooked us up with an iPad so we could watch a little video, took my vitals, and made me weigh in.

Then we awaited the arrival of Dr. Patterson.

And hence he came.

While I was immediately struck by his eye-pleasing qualities, my heart reminded me that it would always belong to my favorite elective procedure surgeon and life saver, Dr. Friedman.  But it doesn't hurt to look ya know.

So Dr. Patterson has my pictures in his lap.  Beautiful little close up pictures of my tummy and boobs taken just minutes before.  He starts with the tummy.  And at first, I am confused because I didn't know if they were pictures of MY stomach or someone else's because they didnt look as bad as I picture my stomach.  They were indeed images of my sag though.  So he explains, in great detail, about how he would do a tummy tuck.

Here are the highlights:

-I keep my belly button
-I will have 2 drains.  One for about a week, the other for around 2 weeks.
-He will put disposable staples under my stomach coming down the middle of my stomach to bring my abs back together (they can come apart after babies or being fat)
-He will lipo a little off the side
-My scar will be above my pubic line
-I will be able to return to work after 2 weeks, but he recommends 3.

We talk about my port.  He said he will talk to Dr. Friedman about replacing my port with a low profile port during the tummy tuck.

We talk more in detail.

We move to the boobies.

Now, although I felt relieved with the pictures of my stomach, I was mortified with the pictures of my boobs.  I reckon this is because I have seen my stomach in many photographs (I wear a bikini for goodness sakes), but I have never seen my saggy boobs in a 8 x 10 picture.  They were/are horrible. 

Here are the highlights:

-I would need a lift and implants
-The implant would be put in under my fold in my boob
-I would have a keyhole incision around my nipple and down my boob (from the lift)
-He recommended not going too big, somewhere around 275-300cc's.  This made me happy.
-I would be getting silicon.  Not saline
-The implant would be under my muscle

He demonstrated how durable the implants are (Heather is worried I will pop one during a mud race).  No worries he said.

He answered more of our questions.  He really was amazing.  He sold Heather...and she is a hard sell.

He said in a perfect world where time and money were not an issue, he would recommend 2 surgeries.  One would be the tummy tuck and a lift, and the other would be placing the implants.  But he said that because I am young and healthy, we could do it all at once.

So when we finish up with Dr. Patterson, we go to the room to wait for the different write ups for how much this will cost us.

I had imagined somewhere around $10k-$12k for everything.

Well it turns out that everything will run me $22k.

I just stared at the girl and smiled and tried to NOT cry and not let her see my heartbreak.

She left the room.  I cried.  But just a little.  While she was gone Heather told me we could make it work.  We could borrow from our retirement, I could use her credit cards.  If I wanted it, she would make it happen.

But I am so torn now.

On one hand, that is more than my brand new car.  And it's all for vanities sake.
On the other hand, money is money and like Heather said, we will spend it one way or the other.

On one hand, I feel selfish for making Heather spend her money to fix a body that I ruined.
On the other hand, it would mean so much to me.

This is why I didnt want to go to the consult.  I was afraid this would happen.  For it to seem so close, yet so far away.

I got home and took off my clothes and stood in front of the mirror.  I lifted my saggy little girls up.  I touched my stomach. I pulled it back, lifted it up.  I bent over and watched how everything stretched and sagged. 

And then I sat on the bed and cried.

I should just be able to love myself.  If I could accept myself for what I am, I could save tens of thousands of dollars.  That money could be used for our wedding...if it is ever legal.  It could buy us a boat.  It could pay student loans.

But I don't know if I can.

I don't know if I can ever not loathe these parts of my body.

So I am undecided.  And confused.  And stressed.

And we are juicing for 7 days.  Did I mention that?  And this is day one.  SO I CAN"T EVEN DRINK!  OR EAT COOKIES!

Damn the world.

xoxox

Do Your Boobs Hang Low?

Do They Wobble To and Fro

Can You Tie Them In A Knot

Can You Tie Them In A Bow?

If you can answer yes to the above children's song altered to speak to many a weight loss patient, then it may be time to consider...

A Boob Job

Friday I finally called and made a consultation for plastic surgery.  Amy Workman may be getting plastic surgery.  I can't wait for that to show up in a google search.

Let's rewind.  Let's begin from the beginning.

My grandma Roether had big boobies.  She was a big lady.  My mom never had big boobies, even when she was a bigger lady.  My boobies were always pretty big.  But I was always bigger.  I owned several DD creations in my time.  I would say though, on average, I was a D.  My cup sometimes spilleth over.  Even before losing weight though, my girls were heading south.  I actually don't remember a perky stage, although certainly there had to be one.  I DO recall watching Whoopie Goldberg once, and she had some joke about how you knew your boobs were saggy when you could put a pencil underneath one, let go, lift your hands in the air, and the pencil would remain right where you left it.  Under your saggy old lady tits.  I had to be in my teens.  

But when I started losing weight after lapband, I didnt think I would ever get plastic surgery.  I have always had a little negative connotation to the falsies.  My judgement doesn't carry over to others...but only pertains to me.  I sort of have the same feeling towards fake nails.  When someone says "Hey, nice nails"...they aren't really complimenting YOUR nails.  They are complimenting your plastic nails.  You did not grow them.  You did not nuture them.  You bought them.

Same holds true to fake boobs.  They would never be "mine".  Here is a better example.  If someone compliments my arms, or my back muscles...well I worked hard for those.  I put in time and sacrificed for those.  They are mine.  I grew them from little acorns.  I try to recognize that I get highlights in my hair.  And if someone says they love my hair, well I take that damn praise...so what's the difference?  I don't know if there is.  

But after losing this weight, my boobs are no longer boobs.  For those of you who have been with this little blog for years, you know that long ago my boobs became knee high socks with ping pong balls in the end.  You know that when I am clothed, one may believe I actually have boobs.  But hiding underneath my cute fitted tee is the terrible truth...skin just pooled in a C cup.

Heather loves my non-boobies.  She likes hunting for my nipples that are hiding in my arm pits.  She likes to swat at the girls as they sway back and forth.  She finds me, and the chi-chi's beautiful.  I on the other hand, get distracted by them.  I am a naked person.  I like to walk around topless.  Not at Taco Bell or Target, but at home...clothes are restrictive.  But it's dangerous.  I can't cook bacon with these girls flinging abouts.  I can't bake cookies.  I might shut one in the oven.  I have to hold them when I brush my teeth.  I have to hold them when I bend over to pet our pigs.  I am always aware of them.

Our friend from work recently had a tummy tuck and boob job.  She is our age, had gastric 10 years ago, and now weighs around 130.  She has shared her pictures and kept me updated over the last 3 weeks.  It's funny how open she is with her pictures.  We are not besties, and she works out with Heather more than I do, so when she first sent me a full frontal pre-op and one week post-op, I thought it was pretty awesome.  I also understood how she could do that.  For her, and for me, and maybe for you...our bodies after this weight loss don't really feel like our bodies.  Take a picture of our torso, and omit our heads, you are looking at the body of an 80 year old.  There is a disconnect.  But it was her openness and honesty that made me finally pick up the damn phone and call for a consult.

Because here is the truth.  I joke so much, with anyone who will listen, about the state of my body underneath my clothes.  But it makes me so sad.  If I really give myself time to contemplate my boobs and stomach, I immediately tear up.  It's hateful.  And hurtful.  And can make me so angry.  I work pretty hard for my body.  But no amount of work can fix decades of being fat.  And that is disheartening.  

So, by making a call and going to an appointment, I am allowing myself to hope. And that is scary. Because what if I can't afford it?  I can barely afford the consultation fee of $100.  What if he tells me everything he can do and I can't get it done?  I will be heartbroken.  

But I am going.  And Heather says we will make it happen one way or another.  I love her,

But let's get to my other fears.

What if I get my boobs done and they are huge and I hate them?  I don't want big huge Pamela Anderson knockers.  What if I get boobs and a tummy tuck and can't work out for weeks and weeks and I lose all my muscle (I GET that I may be exaggerating just a smidge).  What if Heather hates them?  What if people judge me?

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But there is good news for you guys.  If I am going to do this, you will get full coverage.  You will see pictures.  You will know what it feels like (from my perspective).  You will get to hold my hand and send my presents or pain killers.

Tomorrow friends.  Tomorrow.  

Shit...I almost broke out into a song from Annie.

Until then.  Hugs, kisses, and motorboats.

Yours-Amy

Fellow Losers, Gainers, and Weight Loss Maintainers

There are a couple of things that I thought would never happen.  Let's start small.

Skinny Jeans

Listen, there was a time that I am sure I have uttered something along the lines of "I will NEVER EVER wear skinny jeans"...probably accompanied by a sentence like "Just because they fit, doesn't mean you should wear them"...

but then something started to happen.  I started to see curvy ladies like myself wearing skinny jeans and well...well...they kinda worked.  So I trotted to the Loft (because they have "curvy" cut that is actually cut for curvy girls...and I tried on some skinny ankle length jeans just for shits and giggles...

and I kind of dug them. 

Here they are.  Size 8.

Anyways.  To add to this shocking turn of events, I have since bought a WHITE pair of skinny jeans.  I know.

Call me crazy.

The Day My Nipple Almost Went to Heaven

I was gifted by a friend who won a massage at a race in April.  This would be my third massage (let us pronounce massage as MUH-SAH-Geee because it is more fun) in about 4 years.  It lasted two hours.  That's a lot of time ya know?  Anywhoozle, the first hour was a "stretching" session and then came the orders "Get undressed to whatever level you are comfortable" and he exited the room. 

I am always faced with a dilemma at this point. 

Because my level of comfortable when it comes to being naked is...well...NAKED.  And I just don't ever know if they mean it?  Will he be okay if my little lady hairs poke through the sheet?  WILL HE?  So I got naked. He reenters, Muh-sah-gee begins.  The table is heated.  I no likey the heat.  But we begin face down.  My nipple must be wadded up in my boob skin...which aggravates the situation, because the heated table must be turned up from 'nice and warm' to 'sautee'...and I am pretty sure my nipple was starting to burn. 

It was on fire.

Now, by some cruel joke of creation, my nipples don't have a lot of sensitivity to begin with.  Seriously...if Heather were to try to entertain them, and my eyes were closed....I would probably have no idea.  So, for my nipple and brain synapses to be joined in partnerhood to alert me that things were wrong...well the situation was serious.  So I tried to readjust.  I tried to un-wad my boob.  I tried to raise my body just a little to relieve the annihilation of my nipple.  Finally, there was some relief and I was able to hold out until he finally said "flip over"....

Thank sweet Jesus.

A Quick Trip To Cali

We have a part of our company that is based in California.  I had been working on building some team exercises with this team and on a Thursday they asked me if I would mind flying out to California to lead them on the following Monday...

um...let me think about it...

OKAY.  So off I went to Monterrey.

I havent even been to Monterey, but after stepping off the plane to a beautiful 60 degrees (only a 50 40 degree difference from Pensacola), I decided I would need to relocate.  Long story short, I had a great little trip and snapped a picture on my way to the team building.  I titled this Business Barbie, Curvy Edition.

Ooow Ahh Ohhh

Friends.  I promise I blog to you in my head on.the.regular.  I SO wish that they had developed the technology, which I could purchase used on Amazon at a discounted rate, that would enable my thoughts to automatically feed to Blogger, thus eliminating the need to make time to actually put fingertip to keys and create a damn post!

You dig?

I know you do.

It has been nearly a month since my last confession.

Thank you all for both your kind words on my post about my Shelbs and for your love and cyber applause for our engagement. 

I have some good news and some bad news.  First the bad.  Shelby hasn't come back to life.  Although I have had some crAZYYYY dreams about that very thing.  And second, the good news.  We are STILL engaged!

Whew. 

Now.  Somethings we should also talk about. 

The Most Exciting Part of My Journey is Happening Right Now

Who would have thought that 4.5 years after lapband I would still be finding and discovering new and exciting things tied to weight loss and my body?  Oh man.  I just had a BRILLIANT idea.  Have you guys seen those candles that have a ring buried down deep in the wax, and you burn the candle to get the ring which may, or may not be, a giant piece of crap?  What if they buried a jewel in our fat pre-surgery and then as the fat melted away (candle reference...you see how I just did that), we would be closer and closer to getting the ring...until one day we just POP it out...like a little pimple...but with a diamond or opal in it instead of puss.

I know.  Puss is a disgusting word.

But seriously.

Think about it.

Anyways, back to what I was originally talking about.  Just to recap, at the beginning of March I decided to recommit to healthier eating, more cardio, less processed food, and just DOING BETTER overall.  Since then, I have lost 35 pounds.  And I think that these last 35 pounds have been the proudest l.b's of all my 170 pounds lost.  Let me tell you why.

I have worked very hard for each and every one of those pounds over the last several months.  My lapband had very little to do with the loss.  And that's not to say the pounds that I lost over the first 4 years I didn't have to work for, because I absolutely did...but these last ones were sweat and tears and making real changes.  At first, I didn't know how I was going to work out more...or how I was going to work out any differently than I already was.  But adding straight cardio seemed to be the only answer.  I started doing the ARC (like the elliptical) for 60 minutes a day in addition to circuit, bootcamp, or tough mudder training).  I started running 3-5 miles, at least 3 times a week.  I was, and I am still, doing two-a-days.  I wake up around 440am, go to Planet Fitness, do at least 3 miles and then do targeted weight lifting.  Then I do a class at work, either circuit or bootcamp).  Every once in awhile I did 3 workouts a day...but that was really to support my friends or coworkers that needed a workout buddy.

On Monday I weighed in at 158.

I have never weighed 150-anything. 

The amazing things, the nonscale victories that are new to me:

1.  Running is so much easier 30-35 pounds lighter.  I am not sure if I am much faster (I am doing a real 5k tomorrow so I will see what I can pull out under pressure), but my knees never bother me when I am running.  Before, my right knee would twinge most of the time.

2.  Seeing my muscles and definition gets me a little excited.  Seriously.  Sometimes when I am working out at the gym and looking in the mirror, I wanna make out with myself.  Just a little.  Light petting.  All above the waist.  But the loss of some of my insulation that covered my muscles that were already there, combined with really focusing on building them up a little more, has gave way to a body I really like. 

3.  When I am wearing clothes.  I feel amazing.  I am proud of myself.  I feel like I look healthy and fit.  My muffin top is gone, my stomach is flat, my ass is round...and even my damn thighs...the last thing to go and the parts of my body that want to hang on to all the fat possible...have slimmed up.  Now I should point out that I said when I am wearing CLOTHES I feel amazing.  Naked is another story.  Naked I still hate certain parts of my body.  There are moments when I catch a glimpse of my back and see the muscle definition...and I smile.  Or when I turn sideways and see how small my waist is and how my lower back curves so nicely into my butt...but the lower stomach skin, my saggy boobs, the insides of my thighs, and my bat wings haunt me.  They make me so so sad.  And I know that stomping around or dwelling on them for long will not magically fix them.  AND I know I can't really say "BUT IT'S NOT FAIR!  It's not fair that I work so hard and still look like a melted candle"...because it is fair.  Because I made some very poor choices for about 3 decades.  And I can fix some of it with plastic surgery I suppose. I finally got the nerve up to send an email to request a boob lift consultation.  They haven't emailed me back.  It's been about a month.  I am working on getting the lady balls to actually call them.  I think I am just scared that they will cost to much, or that they will need to lift AND do implants and then I will have huge unnatural knockers....I am scared to get my hopes up that there IS hope...and then not be able to do it.  And although I never thought I would do a tummy tuck, I might some day.  I wear bikini's all the time, and I would just love for the skin not to be there.  As for the inner thighs, I don't think I would ever be able to pay or want to go through a lower body lift.  Short shorts just may never be able to be in my future.  I think I can deal with that.

Also coming to visit lately is my port.

This was about 10 pounds ago, and of course my port baby has been poking out for years.  But now it's super noticeable in most of the shirts I wear.  At work, one of my coworkers said the other day "What is THAT" as I was walking down the hallway.  Heather is concerned and wants me to talk to Dr. Friedman about switching it out for the low profile port.  I probably will do that sometime I guess.  Just see what my options are.  It bruises every once in a while, and we are signed up for every mud run in the southern United States, so scaling walls or climbing things may be a bad idea with port baby sticking out.

 

I also have no pants that fit.  Work pants I mean.  Not one pair.  Which is GREAT, but also sucks.  I bought a pair of black banana republic slacks and in one week...too big.  Which is another crazy thing about being this size and weight.  Remember when it took 40 pounds to lose a size?  Now I can lose a size in about 8 pounds.  I am a size 8 now for the most part, although I do have jeans in size 10 and even a size 12 that I can still wear. 

 

I have more pictures and more news to share, but I better get ready for work!  Happy Friday friends!  Let the weekend begin!

 

xoxox

1 Week Ago Tomorrow...

I had to make the most heartbreaking decision of my life.  I had to take my dog Shelby to the vet to be put down.  Shelby, also known as Pappy (yes, Shelby was a HE), had been my guy for a very very long time.  14 years to be precise.  I had moved out of my parents house, got my first apartment, and practically went straight to the shelter to pick out my first puppy.  I will never forget that Shelby was sitting in a kennel with a Dalmatian that kept stealing his food.  I took him into the little visitation room, he crawled up into my lap, stuck his nose in my armpit, and that was it.  I was sold.  I took my 3 month old puppy home to my new apartment where, while I was in the bathroom, he managed to chew up all the carpet around the fireplace and shit on my new washcloths (yes...they were on the floor...I was 19 okay?!)

But we stuck it out.  Through moves, terrible choices in men, across state lines...we was always with me.  Over the last year or so, he started to have trouble walking.  We have linoleum in the main section of our house, and at times, Shelby was like Bambi on the ice.  But his spirit was still in tact...and he would manage to slip and slide all over for a treat or peanut butter pill sammie.   But for awhile now, you could tell his mind was slipping.  He would bark or yelp for no reason.  Sometimes for 15-20 minutes at a time.  It was kinda like we was a Vietnam vet that wasn't quite sure where he was when he woke up and he was always waiting for Charlie to come out of of the jungle.

Two weeks ago I took him to the vet and she told me basically he had doggie dementia.  That he wasn't in pain, but I had to start thinking about end of life procedures...and that at some point I was "keeping him alive for my comfort, not his".  I started bawling and repeating "I'm not ready for that yet".  So she sent me home with some crazy meds (for him).

I have been saying for awhile I wish he didn't seem so happy to be alive...like if he WAS in pain or had seemed to give up, at least it would make the choice a little easier...

And last Tuesday it happened.  Heather got home before I did and found Shelby half in/half out the doggie door...breathing...but unable to walk.  I don't want to think about how long he had been there like that.  So she called me and told me to hurry home...and that it was time.

I got home, scooped him up...and Heather drove us to the vet.  She went in and arranged everything while we waited in the car.  She couldn't go back with me, but I wasn't sending him back alone.

When we got back there it was so so hard.  I've never had to put a pet down before.  The vet came in and told me how it would go...asked if I was ready...and she started.  And then it was over. 

Just like that.

And...that's all I can type about that part.  I get to pick up his ashes on Monday.

I took the next day off.  Crying and cleaning the house, changing around the dog beds...trying to remove visual cues.  Heather was amazing.  Very patient with me.  Cried with me.  Talked me through it.

Coming home is different and probably the hardest part of my day.  I am used to that crazy bastard waiting for me with a look of hunger in his eyes (he was a Workman after all...we are always starving).  I know they don't get to live as long as us.  And that sucks.  And I know you have to think about what a great life you gave them and that they gave you.  But it doesn't really make it easier.  I am selfish and want him with me always.  But I know if there is a better place...that if our spirits don't go with us to the dirt...that he is somewhere biting ankles, riding on SeaDoos, and eating all the food is fat belly can hold.

xoxo

If You Like It You Should've Put a Ring on It

On May 22nd, 2013...the most unbelievable thing happened.  It still makes me close my eyes and breathe deep and relive the moment while I feel the smile start to spread. 

It was Heather's 36th birthday and she had been arranging a birthday party for herself for several weeks.  She invited people.  She picked the place. 

And all the while...I thought it was a little odd that she was planning a birthday party...because she doesnt really LIKE birthday parties.  But oh well, she is getting up there in age ya know so I thought maybe she was warming up to the idea of celebrations.

I guess she had expected about 6 people to come.  About 18 showed up. 

No worries.  The Fish House accommodated us.

Heather's brother Corbin came down and they had rode together.  Travis and I rode with my sister, in order to get there early and make sure we could get a table or 8.  Well Heather and Corbin were taking forever to get to her own damn party...so I was getting just a teensy weensy bit annoyed.  They finally showed up though and the party got under way.  The entire time though, Heather was acting all anxious...even more than normal.  I was going to go get her birthday cupcakes  out of the truck and she wouldn't let me.  She said that she would get them.  Or Corbin could get them.  Which made no sense to me and so I got a little more teensy weensy bit annoyed...but tried to be the good girlfriend and not concern myself with why my girlfriend was crazy.

Then, she stood up.  And started talking. 

And I was said out loud, to no one in particular "Is she giving a birthday speech"?  Heather doesn't talk by choice in front of groups. 

And then she started thanking everyone for coming and started to get choked up...to which I thought to myself "WOw, she must be really happy that everyone came to help her celebrate"...

And then she reached across me and Corbin handed her a box.  She said "Hopefully this will be the best birthday ever"...

And she got down on one knee. 

Here is the video.  If you can watch it, look how nervous Heather is.  Our friend Natalie is filming, because Heather is supposed to be standing up.  She is pretending to look at pictures with Travis.  Watch Heather rub the chair and breathe, and then rub the chair....

And said "I love you. Will you marry me?"

At some point, I snatched the ring from her hand and put it on my finger.  Damn it! I was just so excited.

It was really the most surreal moment of my life.  Never in my life would I have thought that when and if she finally proposed, that she would do it in public...and in front of people.  I thought maybe in the back yard while picking up dog poop she might just stop and give me a ring. 

But no.  She did all of it for me.  It was never a birthday party for her, that was just a way to get everyone there.  And she had picked Fish House because 3 years ago that's where we came out as a couple to most of our work friends....and did naughty things in the bathroom...and standing up in public, and sneaking around behind my back for weeks to find me the most perfect ring and having the ring built...that was all for me.

It was beautiful.  And it was perfect.  And my sister was there, and her brother was there, and our closest friends...

And it made me so happy.  I can't really explain it.  I can't do it justice.

So I am engaged!!!  Who knows when the wedding will be!  Heather's rule is that it has to be legal in the state we live in...so it could be a few months, or a few years.  We will cross that bridge when we come to it.  Ya'll better start saving up for a trip to Florida for a wedding though!!  It's gonna be one hell of a party :)

The double headed gold unicorn was a gift to heather from my friend Travis.  It is the tackiest thing ever and we saw it at a used game shop...we couldn't miss the opportunity to snap a little photo with it.

The Tough Mudder Recap

So many things have happened over the last couple of weeks...I have no idea where to begin...so after much debate, I thought I would just go chronologically!  On May 18th, after being signed up for this damn race for about 9 long long months, we arrived in Palatka, Florida (near Jacksonville) for Tough Mudder.

 

We have been training and preparing since January 1 really.  While we didnt have to have a themed costume of choice for our team, I wanted to look fabulous, so after much debate we decided to go with "SuperHeros/Alter Egos".  Carmen and I were Wonder Woman, together...WonderWomen.  Heather was the Hulk, we also had 2 captain americas, 1 superman, 1 batwoman, 1 robin, 1 SuperWoman, and 1 AquaMan.

 

We arrived clean and pretty.

 

Then the signs leading to registration started.

This is one of our obstacles.   You had to climb over these mud piles.  This was one of the easiest...and just the beginning.

Below is the second to last obstacle.  After 10 miles of running, running, some more running, and about 20 different obstacles, we were expected to run up this damn ramp and pray that we were able to get over it.  It was the one obstacle I feared I physically could not complete.  Mama's got no ups.  However, there were some angel's at the top in the bodies of three really strong men with bulging muscles and tank tops.  I made eye contact before my short stubby legs put me in motion and said "you sure you got all this"...to which they all nodded.  So off I went and sweet baby mongoose, they caught my hands and pulled me up.  I love them.  Wherever they are.

The worst obstacle of all obstacles...well...there were two...was the electric shock obstacles.  There are hanging wires, with alternating currents.  Some wires are live, some are dead.  So when you first start running or crawling, you are thinking "hmmm...this isn't bad"...and then one of those live wires hits you.  And it takes you down my friends.  It takes you down.  This is Natalie picture below...being knocekd to the ground by the shock.  I ate it as well.  Face first...into cowshit.

Some of our fabulous Team.

 

Now this is the worst of all obstacles, one which I didnt really fear because I am from Kansas and I have swam in mud lakes in early March...was called the Arctic Enema.  They take trash dumpsters and fill them with colored water and ICE.  ICE ICE ICE.  Several weeks prior, at a race in Pennsylvania, a man died on another obstacle from the shock of cold water, so we entered the race with "life partners"...like a buddy system.  Carmen was my buddy.

This is Heather, emerging from the ice...with a smile on her face.

And this is me and my best superhero side kick jumping in.  It was worse than I could have ever imagined.  You go underwater and coming up in shock.  You can't really get your breath.  It's painful.  You want to die.  And then they make you go back under water to go under that piece of wood there and come back up on the other side.  Well I went under...and Carmen never came up with me.  I thought she was dying.  I thought I had to go back under to save her...I couldn't MOVE!  But I managed to gasp out to Heather and Sean "Carmen....Carmen...she.is.dying...."

And as everyone ran to help, she emerged.  Looking like this.  Bless her heart.  She had waited to go under the wood.  She wasn't dying.  But it was terrible.  TERRIBLE.

I will tell you that for the first 6 miles or so I had it going on.  I was cheering and singing and chanting.  I was feeling goooood.  Then, the shit cramps came upon me.  Stomach cramping.  And the blisters started.  And you know...my mood shifted a tad.  There was one beautiful obstacle, that was a trench dug out and full of water with a cage over it.  You had to crawl in the water, roll over face up, and pull yourself through the trench by grabbing on to the cage.  Just your nose, mouth, eyes were out of the water.  I loved it.  It was peaceful.  The water was cool. 

Heather hated it.  It was her least favorite obstacle.

We finished though.  Finished in under 3 hours.  11 miles. 

I can't wait to do another one.  My girlfriend has lost her mind and has signed us up for every mudder race that is semi-close by over the next year.  The Savage Race, The Spartan Run, The Warrior Dash...

They are tough and slightly stupid, but it is amazing being able to do them with Heather and some of the people I love the most.

Wonder Woman

The Tough Mudder in Jacksonville is finally upon us!  We must have signed up a million years ago, and have been talking about it and training for it ever since. 

I am so ready for it to come...and then just be a wonderful memory!

Our team's costume theme, which is not required but really...what's the point of doing a race if you can't look precious...is SuperHero's.  I did not pick this theme, but since half of our team is BORING, my girlfriend included, they vetoed my Tough Mudder Trucker idea (which included trucker hats, cut off shorts, wife beaters, aviator sunglasses, and tube socks), and agreed on the Hero theme (because the boring people could order these underarmour alter ego shirts).

I digress.

So Carmen and I ordered these outfits from Spencers.  They have them in store, but in store they didn't have the cuffs or headband...and let's be frank...the cuffs and headband make the costume.  Those shorts are quit snug yes?  I mean, Wonder Woman didnt wear UnderArmour capris under her bloomers...but mama will be.  If I could have found the proper mom high-waisted undies that she really wore...I MIGHT have ran in just those.

But alas...I could not find them.

I would also like to take this time to apologize to the 16 of you who read my post from last night.  I wrote that poor little feller while under the influence of Ambian. I reread it this morning and holy Jamba Juice...it may have been the worst thing I have ever written.  There were spelling errors (more so than normal), grammatical errors (again, more so than normal), and it was a hodge podge of randomness.  I barely made sense to myself.  So I just went back and edited it to make it a little more cohesive.

Goodness!

Happy Wednesday friends!

May the force be with you!

Fat Girl Skinny Girl Fat Girl Skinny Girl.

Am I fit and healthy or am I flabby and fat?  Am I conditioned and ready for battle, or have my former fat girl years done so much damage to my joints that they will  always  be my downfall?

WHO am I?  Am I a fit 166 pound woman or that girl who weighed 327 just 4.5 short years ago?

So many of the  battles we fight with weight and dieting are on a battlefield that is easily visible to the outer world.   You can see us out there fighting the good fight, fighting the food fight...but the real battle happens long after the lights have gone down and the friends and followers have returned safely home and snuggle in their warm beds.
The hardest fought battle is in our mind.  For those of you on this journey, you experience this.  I think that the power that our former selves holds onto our psyche is quite incredible. And while we have talked before about how jacked up our brains are, it hit me again the other night while watching my favorite guilty pleasure on NetFlix...Nip/Tuck. 

We started watching Nip/Tuck several months ago, and have finally caught up to the last season.  So an episode comes on and Liz (an anesthesiologist in the plastic surgeons office), brings in a friend  that she happened to meet at a nudist colony.  Her friend was played by Danica Sheridan, and her characters name was Lola.  Well Lola came into Christians office (the womanizing superficial appearance obsessed doctor) to have some of her moles removed.  Christian, assuming that removing moles from her body would only be the beginning,  also said the could do some tummy tucking or lipo for a discount. TO which Lola said no.  She loved her body just the way it was.  She lean leaned into Christain and said "Oh.  You've never been with a big girl before have you?

If you have ever watched the show, you can see where this is going to lead.  Yes.  Christian and Lola end up having sex, and it turns out..."it was the best sex of his life"...which he struggles with because Lola's body does not match the image in Christian's head of what a perfect woman should look like.

   He goes home and tells his wife about this sexual encounter and his wife just so happens to be Kimber.  A former model, a former porn star,who has spent her live starving herself and dieting ....so she sees this betray as a pass to eat all the food she has always denied herself.  Just in case you dont know what Kimber looks like, this is her



So blah blah, Christian feels guilty or disgusted that he liked sleeping with big girl and so he finds her in the kitchen by recovery only in her birthday suit.

The quality is rough, but you get the picture.  And he says some hurtful things to her...and here is where MY brain comes into play...I felt like I was her.  I feel like that ass and those thighs and those rolls are MY rolls.  I feel like that is what I still look like.  Now in all reality, my weight is closer to Kimber's than Lola's, but it occurred to me when watching this episode that the girl in my head is still that girl standing in the kitchen in that picture up there.  That is who I think I look like MORE so than the skinny Kimber.

In most social situations I feel that people who don't know me still would report me out to their friends like "you know...the fat one"...or if not fat then "the big one".  When Heather introduces me to someone I am usually thinking that THEY are thinking "why is Heather with someone who is fat since Heather is so fit".  I just don't know what people think of me.  I didn't really know 170 pounds ago either I guess.

On the flip side of not knowing how I come off, the other day I was talking about co teaching some of Heather's fitness's classes with her.  She is really fit, she is good at putting a workout together, she does not enjoy leading the class, being the center of attention, or having to really give feedback during the class.  All things I could help with.  And I told her that she is scary and intimidating to some people because she is so fit....and that I am just one of "them"...I am just an average girl working out and that new people, or people who maybe aren't AS fit as Heather, can relate to me.

To which SHE said, " I dont know babe...since you have lost that weight you look like you are a beast and you are over there doing pull-ups...I don't think they think you are one of "them" anymore.

Well shit kettle bells why dont you?  Im not below average.  Im not average. But I am certainly not elite crazy i-wear-a-beanie-to-workout-in-the-middle-of-the-summer Heather Gainey.  I am not above average either.

I don't know where I am.  At 166 and 5'4" I am only now just out of the obese category according to the BMI charts.

puh-shaw.

I hope the tone of this post doesn't sound Debbie Downer.  I am mentally doing well today.  But it just struck me crazy that Kimber was the enemy in my mind,  and I could have switched places with Lola and all her fat and no one would have notice....again...in my mind.  Such a scary place to be sometimes!

Sugar Salt Fat

This book may be one of the primary reasons I have been able to walk the line this time around.  I bought it for my ipad Nook app at the same time I started taking the meds, gave up soda, gave up fast food, and started working out more.

It came at the perfect time in my life.  I was ready to receive it if you will.  The book is not a diet book.  It is not a workout book.  Michael Moss isn't selling anything (except his book of course).  He is an investigative food journalist and the book focuses on how the "food giants" have evolved over the years into huge corporations who design food, through scientists and engineers, that's sole purpose is to get us hooked on processed food. 

There are three parts to the book.  Can you guess what they are?  Yes...Salt, Sugar, Fat.  This book spoke it me.  It was so exciting and eye-opening...and I am sure that Heather was tired of me turning to her and interrupting HER book reading time with tidbits like "Did you KNOW that a 1/4 of spaghetti sauce has just as much sugar as 3 oreos?  WELL DID YOU".

The chapters on Soda (pop) were eye opening and alarming.  And seriously, I owe this book for giving me the knowledge to stay away from that pepsi that has been hiding at the back of my fridge.  Our brains, as many of us out here in blogland have long known, are addicted to food.  A snickers or soda lights up and excites the same part of our brain that cocaine does.  Our pleasure sensors go crazy.  And what's more than that...it doesnt just go away after we finish eating it....just like a druggie...we crave more.  we need more. Our brains are telling us more more more!

And I don't know if you can blame these big companies likes Kelloggs, Frito Lay, Coca-Cola...for hiring scientists to run study after study on how to engineer the food or drink just the right way to get us even more addicted.  That's their business after all!

But the evolution of meals and dinners from 1950's to present day has been a fast and scary one.  All the processed food that we eat...bad bad bad.

The things we buy for convenience...bad bad bad.

And while I have always known this on some level, the book really put it in terms and language that I clicked with. 

Do you know the average American eats 30pounds of cheese a year?  And do you know that I probably eat twice that average (well, not NOW).

Do you know that potato chips are tested and tweeked until they have a perfect crunch sound that entice people in just the right way?  Just because of the sound.

And how many of you, many of the people I work with, are still confused about these companies and what they promote as "healthy".  Diet soda is worse off for you than regular.  Know why?  Because to make it taste good in diet form, they have to add so many chemicals...so yes...less calories, but actually worse for you.  Fat free ranch?  NOPE.  It's better to have Regular Ranch (2 tablespoons).  Real butter over margarine. 

There is so much to learn.

And trust me, I pretty much just massacred the description of the book...but you should read it.  It's kinda HUGE.  Thankfully my sister just read it in about 2.3 hours (we DO have the gift of speed reading)...but now I have another human to talk about it with!

I Forgot My Underwear On Friday

You know, one of the hazards of working out before work somewhere other than your house and thus the requirement placed upon you to pack your gym bag with all of your accessories is that sometimes...SOMETIMES...you forget something.

Perhaps it's your moisturizer.

Perhaps blow dryer.

Perhaps your pants (this has happened to me twice).

But Friday, I forgot my underwear.  Which I didn't realize until after my shower and it was casual Friday...which means I had to go commando in jeans.  And for those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile, you know that my lady bits are quite...I don't want to say juicy...they are large and in charge.  And jeans have that damn seam in the crotch which is more bulbous than say, slacks...and I swear...it was like a little jockey down there riding a prize race horse...all day long. 

UHhhhh-noying.

THEN, to make matters worse, even though I had worked out before work, I was going to run after work, and Lord knows I CANNOT run with out underwear, so I had to put on the underwear I had wore to workout in the morning....

AWEEEEE-SOME.

So that's my story!  How have you all been?  As usual, I have been blogging in my head and not actually posting.  But after a text from my sister shaming me for my lack of blog updates, I promised I would actually put fingers to keyboard.

Things in the way of weight loss have been amazing.  It's been 2.5 months since I have recommitted to getting back to my fighting weight...and I have lost 27 pounds.  And I am not going to lie...I am really proud of myself.  It feels like longer than two and a half of months, but after I looked back at my calendar, I think that's about right.  I started the phentermine at the begging of March and that jumped started my weight loss.  I couldn't be more thankful for that damn pill.  It helped me to start losing again.  After about 6 weeks, I could tell it wasn't really having an affect on my appetite anymore, but it was still giving me energy.  I tried going off of it for several days this week and I was pretty lethargic...and extremely moody.  I don't know if it's a placebo effect, but I will keep taking them until my prescription runs out.

I still have been soda free for the last 2.5 months as well...and to tell you the truth...I hardly ever miss it.  I went about a month without drinking, but have had a few beers a couple of weekends.  I will tell you this...when I do drink...even if I have been "perfect" the rest of the week, I will not lose that week.  I won't gain, but I won't lose.  Not one pound.  For me to lose at this point, I have to be ON POINT.  Until this week, I had been in a holding pattern...stuck around 170.  Today I weighed in at 166.

 



 I have also been working out more since recommitting.  And for that means, more cardio.  I would say that I work out 7-13 times a week.  I do two-a-days at least a couple of times a week.  My beautiful coworker Carmen and I have been running.  Her husband is in Afghanistan and will hopefully come back in the early fall, so we have set some fitness goals together.  We run Tuesday and Thursday, and are up to 5 miles at a time.  We run the same pace and it is fantastic to have a running buddy that is at your level. 

With that said...I still hate running.

Truth.

I hovered around 166 in 2011.  But I think that my body is actually a little more tone/smaller this time around.  I feel fit.  I feel good.

Most days.

There are days though where I hate the inside of my thighs, my stomach skin, my batwings, my boobs. 

We were at the beach a few weeks ago and I was feeling good in my bikini and one of our acquaintances came up to me and said "so, how much for a tummy tuck?"  And we talked about skin removal surgery, and I pretended not to care...but it was kinda like a kick in my loose skin covered tummy.  Later, after we were home and I told Heather about it, she threatened to beat him down...but it was just a reminder that I will always have the evidence of my former life...on the outside...and of course it will always be there on the inside of my brain as well.

Other fantastic things have been happening as well.  The 5k that we try to do annually was at the end of April.  Carmen and I had only been running for a couple weeks at that point, but I had my personal best time.

 

 

That is Carmen's son Jackson.  He ran with Heather and he took 2nd in his age group and Heather took first in hers.  Carmen and I finished with a better time than last year and we didnt die.  Mission accomplished.

 

It has been beach weather here for a couple of months now.  So we have been out there doing our thing.

 

These are a few of my favorite people.  Andrea, the beautiful blonde...will be doing the Tough Mudder race with us THIS Saturday.  She also just ran a marathon.  Nathan, my curly haired gay lover from another mother is also doing the race.  And of course my badass Heather.

 

Yes, Tough Mudder in Jacksonville if FINALLY upon us.  We will leave Friday for Jacksonville, Fl (about 6 hours from us), and we are in the first wave of the race at 10am on Saturday.  We should be running for about 4 hours, 12 miles...25 obstacles. 

Someone died a few weeks ago at the race up north.  Jumped in cold water, went into shock, drown.

 

Truth.

 

So we will be running as a team and be accountable for buddies.  We are dressing in a SuperHero Theme...and Carmen and I will be WonderWomen.  We also have Heather as the Hulk, a captain america, aqua man, batman, robin, superwoman...and possibly a few others.  I hope two things #1.  We survive.  #2 There are photos of me looking like a beast. 

 

AND...I am so proud of several member of my family!  My parents starting working out and changing their eating habits at the beginning of this year.  They are working out and losing weight!  Good thing bc I need them around forever.  We are heading to the boat for Memorial Weekend...and I am pretty pumped.

 

My niece is still working out and even running.  We had a long conversation a couple of months ago when she couldn't get the damn scale to move despite her best efforts.  Sometimes I will do not understand the scale.  It really is not as simple as calories in and calories out.  You just gotta keep reevaluating and upping your game and hold on to the fact that you know you are doing the right thing...and the scale will USUALLY catch up.

 

But the best news of all is my sister (who...ehmmm...just turned 50 this year) has become a crazy health nut!  She joined our Planet Fitness, she bought a juicer, she watched the documentaries and FINALLY read the book that has helped change the way I look at food (coming in the next post).  And she has lost...well...at least 30 pounds (could be more).  But that's doing it "the old fashioned way".  And she is working hard.  I am so proud of her.  Heather is so proud of her.  We are going to be one hot family for the next Christmas card shoot...

 

Here's a reminder of this year's shoot.



Heather's birthday is next Wednesday.  She will be 36.  We just celebrated our 3rd anniversary...and if Florida ever legalizes and validates our equality...ya'll better be ready to buy a plane ticket and get your asses to our wedding.

Life is pretty amazing right now. 

I am trying to become a better person all around.  Hell...I've even flossed two-days in a row!  But I am trying to be more understanding of Heather's need (not SEXUAL needs), but just trying not to let my damn emotions is the logic that must live in my brain somewhere.  What is true about Heather and I is that we have the same core values and hold the same things to be important.  Our family.  Animals.  Beliefs.  Love.  But the WAY we show those things are sometimes very different.  The way we picture a relationship going is sometimes different.  So we are always learning how to compromise and work the love putty :)

I will try and post every day this week.  I want to talk about the book Sugar Salt Fat...I want to tell you what I have been eating, what I have been doing, what my next focus is...so many things.

I hope this finds you all well.  I miss you guys.

Keep fighting the good fight.