I am celebrating my two year sleevaversary. Sans cake.
Why, you ask? Well, because lately, the weight has been a creeping up. Now, it is nothing completely terribly, (ten pounds) but it is still ten pounds. I have stopped tracking caloric intake, putting more bread into my diet, and also exercise has been nil. It is totally my fault. It started creeping when I came back from my first vacation. I went up to 155 (from my lowest of 147) and am now sitting around 160. I hate it, hate it, hate it.
As my goal weight is around 135-140, I feel like I really need to self-care. I have started counselling and therapy and am slowly learning boundaries-something I learned (through therapy) I am terrible at. if you have read any of my previous entries, you may be saying “DUH, no kidding”.
When the truth smacks you in the face, it demands attention. After the sting is done resonating, it is easy to just walk away, never looking at it, hoping it will just leave you. But my truth, my glaring, elephant in the room truth is still here and I am trying to embrace it. It is painful. It is depressing. But I am still breathing, pushing, laughing, loving, crying, crawling, writing…
With the sleeve, it’s only fair to reiterate that it is a tool. I went out, two years ago, depressed, fat and miserable, seeking a quick solution. Out of sheer desperation and exhaustion from failed diets, I got the sleeve and a host of new issues.
Now it isn’t al the sleeve’s fault, but let’s be real: every surgery is different and the emotional physical and mental changes vary widely, along with the results.
When I work my sleeve, eat right, stick to under 1200 calories, work out, I am just fine. When I don’t, the magic sleeve won’t be there to repair the damage I have done.
So, some things to be weary of that I have personally experienced since I have been sleeved, going into year two:
-constipation and digestion problems
-loud stomach digestion
-cannot eat spices or fried food basically at all
-eating rice sends me to the couch in pain
-eating dairy, breads, etc are not worth the effort-my weight goes up and I swell
-tastes for sweets are eliminated almost, which is a positive
-I am able to consume more in a sitting than last year
If you should have any further questions or advice about the above, please let me know. I would be interested to hear where other sleevers are at in year two.
Cheers, friends and Happy sleevaversary tooooo meeeeeeeee!
Someone must be praying for me. Whoever you are in the universe, thank you. I woke up yesterday with this energy. This motivation that picked me up, took me over to my laptop at five am, and had me googling motivational music. Motivational videos. This energy, wherever it came from because it sure as hell didn’t come out of me, told me to quit everything, eat vegetarian, eat clean. I began looking up Paleo Diets, clean eating. I sought out truth on changes, inside, outside. I realize I am a work in progress, a very big work in progress.
When I started this blog 19 months ago, I did it to talk about my journey about getting the sleeve. This blog has morphed now into a whole (lately neglected) but more focussed missile on my self-discovery, or need for it. So if you still want to hang here for the ride, I may not talk about the sleeve as much, heck, it was 19 months ago. What am I eating? ANYTHING I want now.
(Still in smaller quantities, of course)
Have you ever been to a fortune teller? Well I usually steer clear of these darker arts, because I tend to play with them a bit. They try to read me, I block them out. I let a bit in, they sit there puzzled. I do this now because the last time I went to one, she looked over my shoulder and said “Who is the older man close to you that just passed, because he is with you right now”. My husband’s dad had died mere months before that. And I had more than one experience where I felt like I wasn’t alone…and well, I just wanted to leave the spirit world in my oblivious state of mind a bit longer, thank you very much.
So anyhow, my work hires a Fortune Teller and, egged on by a few colleagues, I stand in line and wait. And wait. I think to myself, she must be really good, because this line is going nowhere. Or maybe it was the sign from the universe I should step out gracefully, because I won’t like what I am about to hear. I mean, life as I knew it, is still upside down. My husband, still out of the house. We try to write a separation agreement and can’t come to grips with it
. He comes by sometimes, when I feel pity/regret/humility/sorry/reminiscent/lonely/horny.
It’s not over yet, as much as I think it probably will be eventually…I am having a hard time letting go of the dreams I had with him, even if they were falsely wrapped up in loose brain waves and faulty wiring.
(Oh, and did I mention my father was diagnosed three months ago with paranoid schizophrenia? OH ya, NO JOKE, my dad thought three months ago that he was selling his phony facebook company to Mark Zuckerburg, saving the world, and him and Barack Obama had a conference call and basically, everyone is out to kill him. And he had ball cancer. And throat cancer. Well, after 3 horrific months of hospitalization and trips back and forth to visit, I am completely checked out of all of this shit. Yes, I am big disappointment to my family, I know. But I am failing as a human being myself, and we will get to that. I am fucking SURROUNDED by mental illness)
Tally this up: In one year, I have lost two of the closest men in my life to an invisible disease that no one likes to talk about, let alone help you with. My brother, I fear, isn’t far behind…and he knows it too…as he blogs about Chem trails and delusions of grandeur, not sleeping and how he is psychic. OR maybe he just is way more clairvoyant than I am.
(OR, “Maybe I am the crazy one, because when it is everyone else around you…maybe that finger should be pointing squarely at YOU”, says the devil on my shoulder in it’s little red dress, french beret, guzzling booze out of a plastic cup).
But back to that psychic. So after an hour in line, I sit down, she hands me cards. I shuffle. She splits and deals. She reads the cards, looks concerned. She tells me:
Her: “You are not happy with your job”.
Me: ” I love my job!” …try harder…I psychically tell her.
Her: “You have been focussed on the physical realm for a very long time. You need to spend the next 3 years on the spiritual. You seem to be missing this lesson. All around you, there are signs but you are stubborn”.
Me: Oh shit, but I really am great in bed, and look at this body, says my Drunk, shoulder-humping devil
Her: You are very forceful, masculine energy at times. You need to work on your feminine, side…the soft ear, the nurturing side…you have been in a position where you have needed to be masculine for some time.
After her reading, people asked how it went. The few at work who knew what was happening on the home front were I think hopeful that maybe she would tell me I’d meet a millionaire who loves me and is dashingly handsome and has a big um, well anyhow, I think they were hoping for something positive. But what I got from her, after a good twenty minutes is that I need to find out more about me, I need to understand what I need and I need to seek out spirituality, intuitiveness (Which, she hinted she picked up I was before quite psychic) and ya, I am a real work in progress.
Fucking daunting.
So here is my brain, like a dryer sheet tumbling amongst my thoughts, weaving in and out…not capable of slowing because there are too many thoughts. Too many to count.
First, there are my fears. Let’s face it. I am 37.5 and alone in this world right now. I got a small family, a few kids, and some close friends. But, when shit hits the fan in my life, I have always been alone to deal. Why? Because that super-awesome forceful energy that is ME is the one always there to pick up everyone else’s shit and hand them a silver platter at the end of it. So when I am drowning, and really drowning, I tend to claw, clasp and hang on to whatever I can. Like how I have been drowning the last year. I’ve experienced loss after loss and, yes, they didn’t die, and yes, maybe one die, science will fix my husband’s brain, and my dad’s brain, and we will laugh over Christmas dinner how my husband was hearing voices and my dad thought he was on the news being interviewed by CNN. Yaaaaa.
Second, I am so off track, I don’t even know where to start. I tell myself baby steps, I remind myself that I am only one person. I got a crazy career, a busy homelife, and lack focus sometimes to stop and think.
Third, there are the things I don’t know that I need, the things that perhaps I cannot even recognize because my head is so far up my ass, scared of what is next, that I can’t listen to what the Universe is trying to tell me.
So for now, I am trying to seek what I need. I am open to suggestions, world.
Ah time. Or the lack of it. I could babble on about how I seem to be trapped by the long arms of time, and with each tick tock, it just winds tighter around me. I could apologize about not blogging, but I am not sure if people still care. I know full well, while writing this post, maybe no one is really reading anymore. It has been at least two months I think since my last post. And this is my confession.
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The last two months have been hell with a capital H. I am going to break out the goings ons in a few categories for easy reading. Feel free to skim your eyes where interest lands. Or read it all. Grab a kleenex-I am warning you, some of what I am going to say is not going to be easy.
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My relationship
Let’s start here. First-my husband is gone. Kicked him out. After him being in and out of the hospital, after dealing with one traumatic event after another, and also after supporting his ass for well over a year since we said our “I Do’s”, I had it. It has been a hell of a tough year. There isn’t a day that goes by that I wonder what kind of man goes and tries to commit suicide and how selfish one person can be and a slew of other self-pity statements that seem to rattle my brain endlessly. There are times I can quiet the noise, with equally annoying mental chants of self-loathing, self-doubt, and self-pity.
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I may have become an alchoholic…
To shut it out, I began drinking. I don’t know how the hell I lived my entire life, through all I have experienced, and not become an alcoholic like my mom. In fact, after a brief bout of teenage drinking, I barely drank at all as an adult. In fact, if I had even one bottle of wine in the house at any given time, it must have been because company was coming.
Now, I find myself reasoning everything. And anything. These reasoning’s go as follows:
I am going through a tough time and I deserve to relax
I am not at the point of drinking where it interferes with my work. Yet.
I like drinking. I like being buzzed.
I tend to lose weight drinking. Probably because I barely eat anymore.
And so on, these things swim around my brain.
Now that my husband is out of the house, I do find the drinking has calmed a bit. It was agony dealing with him. I have been cheated on before, but this felt worse than that. This felt like he maybe had an entire orgy with a bunch of porn stars in front of me, and fell in love with them all. Everything seemed more important to my husband than me. Most of that important stuff him. I felt like he lifted up his middle finger at me, my kids, the world, his responsibilities, and life itself-and didn’t give a shit about how I handled any of it.
We are still talking; we are still trying a date night here and there. I am still wondering if I have a marriage. My gut tells me it was a lie. Sometimes I think, it isn’t a big deal. I am young, I can move on. Other times, I get scared as fuck. And this takes me on to the next issue.
My body issues are still my body issues
You know that saying about how women are never happy, no matter what size they are? You know how when you are bigger, you think, no…you LOATHE mentally any other skinny woman who laments how “fat” she is.
And then you become that skinny woman. But still feel fat. What gives?
Some say it is the mind-that is hasn’t really caught up with the physical appearance of YOU. When I look in the mirror, all I see is saggy, loose skin. Yes, I have it. My thighs, arms, stomach. I look like a deflated balloon. So yes, I am thin-a size Six, 154 pounds. I have another 15 to go. I need to build some muscle somewhere. I sometimes go to the gym.
In exactly eleven months, I have lost 85 pounds. I would like to say it was all the sleeve. It wasn’t.
The last few months it has been lots of stress. Food is tough some days.
So, what am I eating these days? Well, I still can’t have sugar. Nope-it makes me shake and shiver like mad.
But a typical days goes like this:
Egg white on english muffin-breakfast-250 calories
Salad/veg/some sort of half a veg wrap-300 cals
chicken breast/pizza slice/some sort of snack for dinner-300 cals
snack: cheese cube or apple-100 cals
Throw in a few glasses of wine, and calories equal about 1400 or so. Food is around 1000-1100. That is all I have been able to do for months. Canadian Thanksgiving this year was the first big meal I had since Easter. I was able to have 2 oz turkey, 4 tbsp. mashed potatoes, 4 bites of squash, 4 tbsp. peas. I was stuffed. I rested…then went back for a slice of pie and ice cream. That seemed to go down ok-it was pumpkin…soft an mushy. I still struggle with solids. I don’t know if this will ever really go away.
Even though my body image is still suffering, everyone else around me seems to keep commenting how great I look. Especially men. I don’t even care-it echoes through me. The self-doubt kicks in, the loathing of flabby flesh that hangs off of me, and I imagine their snickers if they really knew what lay beneath the layers of clothing.
I do think I need plastic surgery-I just cannot afford it. I am supporting my entire family-and pets-alone.
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I do get lonely.
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The reason why I got the surgery in the first place was to maybe have a baby with my husband. To get healthy. To be the best I could for me…to be sexy to him.
I have to get myself straight. I have to move beyond the brain, beyond the hurt, beyond the booze, and make things right with me again.
Has the sleeve changed my life? Yes.
Would I do it again? Yes.
But you got to be ready for it. Really ready. Because when you become skinny, and you will become skinny, your life will change. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse. But it WILL change.
I am going to attempt to write a blog about fashion after the sleeve. I do not profess to be a fashionista, although I do love fashion shows like What Not to Wear, Top Model, and tend to be drawn to Vogue more than Glamour (what is WITH their articles lately, anyway?!) However, you will find that as you lose weight, you tend to get more fixed on clothes.
I am not alone, this I know. With each ten pounds my body shrinks, that is another size I drop, and inevitably, another bit that needs to come in on my pants.
If you are a fantastic seamstress, then you probably will have no use for this blog entry. In fact, I may want to give you my number, because I had 2 garbage bags full of size 12’s that could probably use some magic. But I am lacking the effort to find a decent tailor lately, mostly because the appeal of pronouncing in Le Chateau last week I need a 6 or an 8 felt pretty damn good, okay?
I mean, this is Le Chateau…and my new discovery for smaller, normal-sized clothing left me feeling intoxicated last weekend. I mean, if I can shop at Le Chateau and have the size 8 be too baggy, then there is no stopping me. Forever 21, Jacob, watch out-I am coming-with my credit card, because lord knows, I have been closet-broke for months To get through this tragedy of becoming too skinny that you need to go shopping <insert my sarcasm here>, my advice to my fellow sleevers is to get transition clothes-aka lots of A line dresses. In fact, I do not think anyone has seen me wear pants all summer. I tend to shop the outlets at Banana Republic, Old Navy makes great stretch jeans for under 20 bucks and my go-to’s have been LOTS of trips to the Bay in Canada and Macy’s in the states. If you get the right sale, the right coupon and the right timing, you can definitely walk out of there with a haul for only a hundred bucks.
In fact a few months back, I dragged along my hubs to the Macy’s in Buffalo and got a Calvin Klein faded denim jacket, a pink statement suit jacket, and two pairs of designer shoes for 70 dollars-total. I find Loft has some wonderful sales, and think big when you shop the sale racks-aka, go a few sizes smaller, because trust me, you will be there before you know it.
(Of course, if you have the money and don’t mind dropping a ton of cash on a whole new wardrobe every few months, then ignore my advice completely.)
So with only four months until Christmas, and still another 20 pounds to go until my goal, I figured that a sale was as good excuse as any to buy a special dress for the holidays.
THE DRESS.
You know the one I am talking about. The Knock Em Dead, Goal Dress. I have not bought one in years. decades, maybe. But last week, I did it-I bought it, and squeezed into it-barely, with a hope and a prayer, along with a glimmer and some imagination that 20 pounds lost will look incredible in it.
 So without further adieu, here you go-I will post a pic for review.
This dress is a size 6-8, regular 200 at Le Chateau and purchased for 70.00. It IS a bit tight, but with a little work, I will get to my goal and ROCK this dress-I hope 🙂
Here is an edited version of 20 pounds lost, thanks to the virtual editor at Marie Claire:
I met with my trainer Tim yesterday and he was so inspirational! He sent me an email, making me commit to coming and then worked with me to slowly start building my endurance again, as a lot has happened in the last 9 months! While I have been active with chores, walking the dog, etc. I haven’t really gotten my heart up high enough nor really worked up a good sweat in far too long. That first step on the elliptical was amazing!
I pressed the cardio button, set my timer and began pedaling.
There were times I got bored, even thought there were some great hip hop songs playing, and I guess those were my saving grace during those moments of boredom. Of course, when I don’t like doing something, I generally stop it right…like most people. And taking that first step towards fitness is scary, and something I want to do, but also am afraid I cannot do. But, I proved myself wrong, because I did the whole 40 minutes, kept my HR at 155 BPM and burned a whopping 400 calories. OF course, it was just that time of day where there were no girls…only a few guys who were in great shape, lifting and checking out their pecks. Of course, I immediately started with the negative thoughts, feeling incredibly self-conscious. I mean, these are my co-workers, these are fit people, these are men, looking at my flab.
I squashed those feelings, buried those fears and gave myself a little pep talk. I looked at the mirror and told myself “If only they knew how much weight you have lost” and smiled. You know, smiling at yourself in the mirror feels incredibly good, and if there is one thing I highly recommend to get started on your journey of loving yourself again, try that.
I mean, weight gain/loss is a highly emotional journey. On any given day, I feel:
Guilt (for gaining/spending money on the surgery)
Impatience (wishing the weight would come off faster when hitting a stall)
Fear (of not losing at all)
Shame (of getting so big)
Anxiety (people will just see your flabby, fat self, no matter how thin you get)
Self-loathing (negative talk in the mirror-hating the scars, body, etc)
Frustration (for letting myself get this way and with my body shape in general)
At the same time, I also have positive emotions that I should talk about as well, such as:
Pride (for losing 70 pounds so far!)
Ambition (to keep going)
Happiness ( to fit in a size 8!)
Love (for myself again, most days 🙂 )
Inspiration (by others around me who are doing so well, and by myself)
Yes, my first workout was wonderful, and will be one of many, I know. Today was hard, but not impossible. Nothing is…I am beginning to prove to myself.
I am not going to lie here, and will admit, there is a lot going on in my life right now. I am stressed, my husband is back home from the hospital, yet somehow, life carries on. I wanted to take a moment to step away from the drama and get re-focussed on why this blog exists-and post about my journey, and challenges, ideas-well, you get the drift. A wonderful message I received the other day from a fellow blogger really inspired me to get back on track. I have posted her message below and also wanted to update you all with some very exciting news! (no cheating and skipping to the end to ruin the surprise!)
Your blog has been so encouraging! I just had the sleeve done last Tuesday, and am so scared! I love food, and love carbs.. When were you able to integrate normal foods? Do you feel restricted in a bad way? I’m trying to see the good here, but am dreaming of food! My support system is hard to work with, too, as my sister is downstairs eating BBQ chicken, mac and cheese, baked beans and sausage, and who knows what else!
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This blogger was super frustrated because she feels she has limited support and also loves food, and wondered how to make it through.
To answer your question, “IF I was able to incorporate normal food” my answer to that is maybe-because it depends on what your normal is. And your normal could and most likely will change, and it will take some time to get used to that, but you will get through it!
A great example of this is my LOVE for sushi. At least twice a week, I used to haul anyone who would entertain me down to the local AYCE Sushi bar and order, well, two of everything. “I am eating sushi and it is healthy, so I can eat as much of it as I want” I would lie to my fat self sitting behind three boats of rolls.
Now, sushi for me is an interesting experience-mostly because of the rice. However, one time recently I dissected all the rolls, just ate the filling, and had about 2 cups of rice and mounds of seaweed leftover, staring me down on the plate. The filling was about 1/2 cup of food-and about what I could handle after a seaweed salad-and I realized that was only 8 rolls. That is A LOT of rice. Now I usually go for the raw fish or shrimps, no fried, and definitely no rice. But I still enjoy sushi-just differently. Oh, and I don’t gain a few pounds every time I go now.
The first step is to have a support system-blogging friends, jump on to websites that have forums, and build that networks strong and tight around you! Don’t be afraid to reach out to people for help-hearing other people’s stories really helped me and educated me about putting things in perspective.
With your sleeve, it is literally one day at a time. Like any other major life change, it can be thrilling, overwhelming, and downright scary.
I remember going through similar emotions and about your stage of the game, (Read my post about the holidays and how I ate cookies two weeks after my sleeve!!! 🙂 ) and these feelings are real, but they will fade.
Your love for food will fade to your love for a new pair of jeans, or a new experience, or a new way to possibly enjoy the foods you loved so you still get the taste, but it will be a lot less and in different ways.
Eating WILL be difficult, and it could be stressful! And sometimes, you never know what you will get with your sleeve and patience is the key.
To answer your question Ashley, I modified everything. I mean, I love food, but I love myself more-and everytime ok, most of the time I wanted to veer of course, I reminded myself a) how much this cost me and b) I have to love myself and this process-embrace my sleeve.
I hope this helps!
So give a little update on my fitness, and goals, I did something outside of my box today-I JOINED THE GYM!! (woot!) I know that is the first step and I actually got to go, but in an effort to work in the last 20-25 pounds, I wanted to make sure I was building some muscle and not leaving myself with a flabby, fleshy body when I was all said and done. Right now, my tone is weak, and I know I have some work to do. But I am so close to my comfort zone-you know what I am talking about-that “I look pretty good in clothes and I can buy clothes off a normal rack so why fight it?” it is THAT comfort zone that gets me in trouble, and helps those pounds to crawl back on. Nope, not happening to me!!!!
I have started what I like to call a “phase two” in my diet plan and yesterday I had a full Bioimpedence.
Here is the breakdown:
122.1 is lean body mass, but I still have 47.9 lb of fat I could lose.
My BMI is 27.4 and my BMR is 1728. Now THIS shocked me. I actually need to start eating more and moving more to get some new results. I have been barely losing these last few weeks, just sort of hovering on the scale. Now I know why!
I am just 20 pounds from being a normal weight-a normal BMI and that is something I haven’t achieved in 20 years. This gives all new meaning to those last twenty pounds!
I have signed up with a personal trainer and the gym to get a full fitness assessment and also nutrition and food allergy assessment. Hey, why work against what God gave you, right? I am really pumped, and the next few months of my blog will be focussed on my workouts, diet, eating, food and recipe ideas, and the journey to a healthy weight!
So join me and share this like crazy, because we are going to have a lot of fun doing this! (okay, and maybe some sweat and tears too…but no blood, I hate blood. 🙂 )
This is a wonderful quote, and I wanted to post it for all those who are seeing the whole mountain, and forgetting to focus on the single steps. You CAN do this, just re-align your focus and believe.Â
I’m sipping wine tonight-like pretty much every other night over the last few weeks. I threw myself into an awful dehydration a week ago, drinking coffee to keep myself awake after the 4 hours of sleep I got a night, the long days of work, hospital and family responsibilities, and then the wine to put me to sleep-only to snap myself up again with a jolt of warm java.
To say my life has been hell-well, I don’t know. I mean, some have suffered far worse and I can understand a bit more now why some people have that sadness in their eyes they cannot hide from you. I wonder sometimes, peering deep into those blank canvasses that I used to imagine where just aliens that had consumed a human spirit for some scientific experiment…ya, that had to be it right…not life-not misery, not something like what I am experiencing right now.Â
I cannot imagine the light in my eyes dying-I know this sounds odd but I know deep down in myself that the only reason I have gotten anywhere in life is through the power of my light and the convincing stare I can give someone when I truly know I can do something. I am convincing, I am powerful, I am many things, and right now, I am completely lost.
My husband came home Friday. That brought on the worst panic attack I have ever experienced. First it started with nausea, then diarrhea…then my stomach in knots all the way to get him. I had a three hour drive, as I was out of town. The closer I got, the more my hands started to shake. I pull in to the hospital and park in the 15 minute “emergency only patient drop off” zone and rush in, wondering where he is.Â
He is, of course, happily chatting with another patient, grabs his stuff and looks at me hard. “What’s wrong” he asks, very concerned.
“The flu” I mutter…but I fear much, much worse.
He signs himself out, hops in to the car, and I am keeled over sideways. He can’t even drive because they took his licence away for his seizures. So I am there, in agony, just wishing to God I had the answers to all of this right now, because honestly, I don’t.
He came home, because I didn’t know where else he should go. His family ,while somewhat supportive, did this at a distance. No one offered to take him in. He isn’t all that much welcome back home either…I mean, the man lied to me for two years I found out about everything-his depression, his medical history, his bills, I mean, EVERYTHING.
I feel like even though deep down, maybe he didn’t mean to do this totally, and maybe deep down, he really does love, what the hell do I really know anymore? I do not trust ANYTHING I feel or do.Â
I could not recognize the signs that my husband was completely lost and suicidal. I couldn’t see through the bullshit that he was just trying to convince me he had it all together.Â
What the hell do I know, anyway?
What I have now is an unemployed, depressed but well-medicated husband, sitting at home. He has a plan he says. He has goals, he says. He claims life is going to be great.
He has no job, he has no way to put a roof over his head. If it wasn’t for me, he would be homeless.
But what do I have? This deep, knitting fear in my belly that if I don’t run now, this will be repeat in my life. Numbers don’t lie. If he makes it three months, he has beat some odds, but most end up back in the “ward” in the first year.
So right now I am just taking inventory-of everything. Trying not to react too harsh, but he has been home for the past two days, and honestly, I wish he was anywhere but here right now.
I am just too raw, but I feel a world of responsibility on my shoulders.
My Little Banana Tummy 