Monday, August 19, 2013

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.


Sunday, August 18, 2013

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 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 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.


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.