It's Been a While

Hi. Yeah, it's me. I know it's been a while. I can point the finger of blame to a few things that have prevented me from blogging. The Man bought me an iPad and my daughter kind of took over my laptop. Typing on an iPad can be on the hard side. Life got busy. I had nothing to say.

I would be lying. It's all on me. I think I had too much to say. So much, in fact, that my brain was a whirling  hot mess of thoughts that I just couldn't form a coherent sentence to put here. 

My therapist has told me many times that it was time to start blogging again. My friends kept asking when was I going to post again? My family is mad that I've missed important milestones and birthdays that I would have never missed before. I would always reply, "I know! I know! I really need to!" And I never would come to the computer and follow through.

In the past week, posts started forming in my head again. To the point that I knew it was time to start again and put it down in black and white. The urge to write was there again. Thoughts were coherent. 

Here I am. 

Hi! I've missed you. Lots.

Yesterday was my third anniversary of having gastric bypass surgery. Three years. Has it been that long? I think my jump back into blogging needs to address that aspect of my life so I can move on to the "Sometimes My Life is a Reality Show" posts to share with you. 

Where do I start? 

No one wants to be obese. No one wants to be morbidly obese in this world. Yet, it happens. I swear to you, you literally wake up one day, look in the mirror and think, "How in the world did this happen to me???" I did that. I looked, really looked, in the mirror one day and was just blown away by what I saw. Who was that woman? The puffy face. Eyes lost in a face due to full cheeks. I was just devastated.  

My mother had suffered many health problems by that point. I had to look at that woman in the mirror and make her realize she was heading down a fast dangerous highway to bad health. It was a numbing moment. 

Fast forward and let's skip the whole process of getting my family doc (who was just amazing and I love her to this day) getting the ball rolling. Finding the perfect doctor to perform this operation to maybe a year out from surgery.

The weight came off pretty quickly. The plus side of the surgery. You're so focused on healing and figuring out what you can eat without getting sick the first six months that it's a full time job. You're in a honeymoon phase of losing clothing sizes and getting compliments left and right. Pretty heady stuff there.

Then reality kicks in. If you're smart? You'll want to find out the root cause of that weight gain. What made you get to that size. Hello, Miss Therapist! 

You find out that maybe you really don't want to know. Maybe it's too painful or just to complicated to give that mental energy required to get to that root cause. You might even find that you avoid therapy a few months because DANG, you just can't take the emotional turmoil it causes after a session has ended. 

What many people don't realize is that you can regain after having gastric bypass/RNY.  Some of you may know someone who has, indeed, had massive regain after the procedure. The body is a complex and phenomenal machine. You can go inside and rearrange the inside, but it will eventually figure out what's going on and fix itself to a certain degree. It is up to you to learn new eating habits and implement a lifestyle change before that happens so when it does? You can handle it and go into what we post-op people call "maintenance mode".  

Sister here has had some major therapy during this time so I can hopefully handle this maintenance phase for the rest of my life. I'm not going into all the complex issues that have come up during my sessions. HIPPA and all that good stuff. I'm sure you understand. An addict is an addict is an addict. Once an addict, always an addict. Doesn't mean you are doomed forever. Heavens no. But, the "drug" is always there calling your name. Some days it's louder than others. Ahhhh, the siren's lure. My take on all of this? We self medicate. Addicts take it to a higher level. I self medicated with food. Food was my BFF. Food was always available in massive quantities and I took it that dangerous level. And let me tell you, when that BFF was taken away after surgery? I mourned. Lawd, did I mourn. In fact, I would be lying if I said I don't still miss it with a burning passions at times to this day. 

People comment all the time that I have amazing willpower. Uh...no, I don't. I really don't have any at all. I am terrified. I am paralyzed with the fear of regain. Of being that woman I saw in the mirror that morning all over again. I still see glimpses of her from time to time. When I was going through some old pictures for my Before and Now collage, Makenna asked me if I felt like her. I said I know that woman well and I know how she felt. I can't forget. I don't think I ever could. Back to willpower. What exactly is that? I mean, I do have a strong will. Where I come from we call it being stubborn as a mule. I am extremely mule headed at times (my husband can testify to this). I am also weak. So very weak. I have those days where I eat like someone is going to take it away from me forever in the next minute. Now, I can't eat massive quantities anymore. My pouch/stomach can hold around a cup of food. But I graze all day like nobody's bidness. If I eat too many carbs, I dump. (My husband got a Mac and I'm still learning how to use it so linking to sites is still something I'm learning. Look up dumping syndrome with gastric bypass if you want to know the details.) I can dump like a Queen. My sugar will bottom out. I'll get shakes like you wouldn't believe. I'll get all light headed and clammy. I'll have cold sweats that soak a shirt in a minute. Some of you might wonder why on earth would I do that to myself? I have no answer other than the drug was stronger than me in that moment and I HAD to have that extra taste of a sweet or fresh baked bread. Every once in a while I'll dump from something totally unexpected and it will catch me out of left field. I carry a protein bar in my purse at all times just in case that happens. I've walked around shopping while eating a protein bar to keep from passing out. I may or may not have nibbled on one in church during the service when this happens. That's the plus side of RNY. If you're lucky, you'll will dump the rest of your life. Yes, lucky. It helps keep you accountable. It keeps you mindful of what you're doing. Break the rule, ,pay the price. Trust me, that price is not fun and can be scary. Maybe I have some willpower. Maybe the willpower mixed in with good therapy, support from those around me, and lots and lots of prayers have me where I am today. 

Yesterday was a day of reflection for me. I thought of where I was three years ago and where I am today. And I felt pretty okay with it all. I still go to the gym on a regular basis. I will always stand by the fact that I will never love it, but I know it's necessary. I am into weight training more and toning what I have left. My brain still has serious issues with all the loose skin I still have. I know it's time to address it and get it taken care of once and for all. I think I put it off because it all has felt like a dream and that I was going to wake up and regain all that weight and I would need that skin to fill back up. Whoa. My therapist totally needs to read that. I bet that would be an epic session in just that realization. I still worry and obsess over  stupid things like "Will I be this size when my children get married? Will I be able to take a picture with them on their day and be a decent size and not embarrass them?" See? The brain is a fickle thing. 

I am open and honest about my whole experience. I put my three year surgiversary (an affectionate term we post-op peeps give our surgery dates) picture on the book of faces yesterday. I admit I was nervous. Why? It's like trusting your baby with strangers. Will you be judged for how you looked before? (sure, that's human nature) Will someone make a remark that will hurt you to the core. It's very nerve wracking. All I got was support. So many comments and all were positive. Thank you all. So much.

Am I proud of myself? Proud is a strong word for me. I am content at the moment. I know there is still work to be done, but I'm doing it. I know I will never reach that magical goal weight I have in my head. It's kind of unrealistic, to be honest. I am healthy. That's what is most important. I am healthy. I have a good grip on my recovery from obesity at the moment. I understand that there are things I have to do every single day to keep my health and grip. I will have to do them every day for the rest of my life. Some days I find that fact very daunting and I don't know if I can do it. One day at a time. One hour at a time. 

I received many messages on my picture from yesterday. How much weight did you lose? I deliberately didn't put that on the picture because it can't be about a number. When it becomes about a number, then the picture gets skewed and the true reason behind the whole process gets whacked up. I will tell you, though. I've lost 168 lbs. I've regained 4 and I believe that is due to the weight training and building muscle. Those four pounds have really done a number on my brain and I keep slipping into panic mode wondering if that's the beginning of the end. Aaaaaaannnnnndddd this is why therapy is key to me. 

There ya have it, folks. The main reason Miss Hope hasn't been able to blog much the past year and a half. I had to go inside myself and work on me. Truthfully, that is also a constant work in progress that I don't foresee ending and that's okay. I'm in a much better place now and things are starting to find a sense of normalcy and contentment that I've been searching for for a long time. I can't promise I won't blog about this from time to time. It is part of who I am now. It is my normal. I can promise to blog about my life because The Boy? Ya'll have no idea. Makenna? Wait til you hear what that kid has been up to lately. Paige? That sweet baby of mine will be 21 in April of next year. Whaat??? 

Here's the picture I posted on the book of faces yesterday and a bonus one! I contemplated putting it on my page there, but changed my mind. I thought I would save it for here. Kind of a welcome back present for you. 

The picture on the left is a month before surgery. This woman here is the one I saw with the puffy cheeks that convinced me it was time. 

Please take note that it just hurts my heart so badly that in the left picture, I was almost as wide at the door. This was before we left for the hospital that morning and I can tell you....Miss Hope was smoooooth. Nerve pills are awesome, I tell ya. Also note that in the right picture, I am sporting some seriously awesome heels. 

*** If you want to know more about Recovery from Obesity, my therapist is on the book of faces under "A Post-Op & a Doc". Look it up. Dr. Connie Stapleton is her name and she knows all about addiction and the recovery process. She has published books and I highly encourage anyone fighting addiction to check it out. 

Miss Hope Update

I've had a few ask what's been going on with me personally. I suppose I can give you an update on how life after gastric bypass is treating me.

As of today, I've lost 157 pounds. Yes, you read that right. That number conflicts me on the inside greatly. While I'm so thrilled to have lost that number, I'm saddened and embarrassed that I HAD to lose that number. Thing is? I still need to lose around 20 more pounds to fit in with the medical community's definition of "normal". If I don't lose that last 20, then I'm going to be satisfied. (reason #3 I'm in therapy)

I go through spurts where I'm loyal to the gym. I'll go my required three times a week and do my level best. Then something will happen, like surgery, and I get a little lax and it takes a bit to get back into the groove. I have low blood pressure now. I can't win with that pressure. Before surgery, I was an inch away from being put on blood pressure meds. Now, I almost black out every time I stand up or bend over and straighten up. It's really irritating to be honest. When I was taken back for surgery and they were doing my vitals, the nurse make this low sound of appreciation and said, "You have the blood pressure of a runner!" To which I snorted and replied, "Please. The only running I do is a brisk walk for a good sale." I admit I walk like a fiend on the dreadmill at the gym in my pathetic attempt to condition myself for the Zombie Apocalypse, but it's not an every day all day occurrence.

About the surgery. I was allowed to keep my gall bladder when the bypass was performed. It was in good shape and my surgeon wasn't one to take out something that was working. Alas, a side effect of rapid weight loss is the destruction of the gall bladder. I started having pains under my sternum radiating under my right rib cage after eating certain foods like beef stew, meatballs, or steak. (beef- it was my enemy). After the second attack and a trip to the surgeon's office, he deemed it necessary to remove it. Gah. I put it off yet again and he smirked and told me if it was my gall bladder, and he was pretty positive it was, then the "attacks" would become more frequent and I would end up begging to have it out. Also, he wanted to remove it before it was seriously diseased. If it got in too bad of shape, then laproscopic surgery wouldn't be an option and I would have to be cut open. Well crap. I kept his advice in the back of my mind and went about my business.

In November I went for my well woman checkup. I have given birth three times and STILL hate that visit with a passion of great proportions. Another side effect of GB (gastric bypass) is screwy messed up monthly cycles. I was no exception to that rule. I dealt with horrible cycles that just about incapacitated me for a week at a time. I asked my OB/GYN what could we do. After a moment, she decided to do a biopsy on my uterus (mother trucker, that mess hurt! After she was done, I said...did you get a good sample? She replied yes. I then said...good, because that is the ONLY shot you will ever get to do that!). If the biopsy was fine, then we could do a uterine ablation procedure called Novasure. She gave me the option of a hysterectomy, but I declined as I didn't want the recovery period of that serious procedure. I waited for a week to see what was going down in the uterus. I went in for a follow up and all was fine. That meant we could go ahead with the ablation. Out of curiosity, I asked if she would be willing to go in with my surgeon and do a two-for-one. Ablation and gall bladder removal. She shrugged and said sure. Have his office call her office. Sweet!

I saw the bariatric surgeon and asked if he would willing to do this gall bladder deal and let my OB/GYN do her thing. He shrugged and said sure. His office said they would work out the details. I left thinking it would March or April before their schedules could work it out. Wrong. I got a call within two days saying that February 1 worked for them. Uh...ok. That was less than two weeks away. I agreed and when I got off of the phone, I realized that was the night of my daughter's birthday party. Crap. Mama went into combat mode then and I had that party all settled and ready to go no matter if I was home that evening or if it was decided to keep me over night.

I can't lie. I hate surgery. Hate the thought of it. And here I was going willingly into the operating room to have TWO procedures done. The morning of surgery, I had two NSV's (non-scale victories). First, the hospital gown was a regular one and it was huge! No big girl gown for me! Second, my husband was sitting there with me waiting for go time and I made the comment that I had room on either side of me in the bed. No overspill! The nurse laughed and said that I used the big girl bed last time for bariatric surgery and this was a standard bed. Say what?

My arrogant ass doctor (yes, I said that word and I meant it) was 40 minutes late. My OB doc was fit to be tied and ill as she could be. I can't blame her. He finally strolled in like he had all the time in the world. Next thing I know, these two nurses came in and started whipping up rails, started to roll, and talking 90 miles an hour. Hold up!!! I stopped them and told one...you better put the happy juice going in the I.V. because if you don't? I'm going to panic and make a run for it. She shot back that she needed me alert to get on the gurney in the O.R. I shot right back...I was out of it when I had bariatric surgery and you managed just fine. Knock. Me. Out. She did.

I woke up with my husband sitting there and hurting like nobody's bizness. Once I managed to potty, they let me go home. Laugh if you must, but I had that man stop at Mickey D's enroute home to get me a coffee. I dozed most of the short trip, but that coffee was mine when I was alert enough to drink it.

It was a tough week. I hurt. Badly. Liquid pain killer (liquid works better for GB patients post-op), pajamas, and coffee were my best friends for a solid week. By week 3, I was feeling pretty decent. Except for a sharp pain in my right side. I found out at my post-op visit that the surgeon had to put an extra stitch internally in that incision as I was bleeding and it would dissolve on it's own in about three months. Good to know. The gall bladder was ok looking, but it was going to need to come out. Here's the kicker. When you lose a massive amount of weight, your internal organs have a much bigger area to move around. I had a space in my bowels (he took a look around while inside to make sure all was well) that was heading towards being a kink with an internal hernia. He fixed it and feels like that, in conjunction with the gall bladder, were the roots of my evil. I got to say I think he's right because I'm now able to eat beef with no problem and haven't had any pain like before when I would eat. I have to add here how I love how God works. I was second guessing my decision to have surgery the first of the week. I ended up having the worst cycle in history the week before the ablation AND two gall bladder attacks with hours of pain. I was so ready for that Friday morning to get here. God has to slap me around some times to get a point across. I respect that. I'm stubborn.

FYI for the womenfolk. I have not had a cycle since the procedure. Granted, I would have only had one but it wasn't there! I pray that the procedure works for me and I don't have to worry about that mess again. I'm also hoping that not having heavy cycles will improve my iron levels because I sure could use a boost in that area.

I feel good. I still get irritated that food is still my main focus. Making sure I get protein in and fluids every single day. It still feels like a full time job that will never end. Therapy is showing me that I'm still in the learning phase of this area of my life. Eventually it will be a way of life and I won't have to spend so much time obsessing over food.

I'm still a food addict. I still want stuff that isn't good for me and I want to graze all day sometimes or just forget this altered digestive system for one freaking day and be "normal". Guess what? THIS is my normal now. Yeah, therapy is definitely one of the good decisions I've made in life.

I find it hard to believe when people tell me how good I look. I mean, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart but Big Girl Brain butts in and tells me it's not true. I am a victim of my own poor choices. I have loose skin (which I knew would happen) that is just crazy. Hopefully, next year at some point, I will have a tummy tuck (insurance will pay to remove the loose skin- I will have to kick in the rest for a contour and shape up of the abdomen area. Oh. Dear. Lord. I just realized I am yet AGAIN planning to go into an operating room willingly. I need to have my head checked again. And again. And again.) when I'm finished losing what my body will allow me to lose.

Don't get me wrong. I see how far I've come and I know it wasn't "free". I am human. I see my flaws before I see the positive. I really need to get past that.

Can I offer up a small piece of advice? You don't have to take it, but I sure wish you would consider it. When you come across someone who has had a weight loss surgery, PLEASE don't feel compelled to tell them that your best friend's second cousin's Aunt's daughter had this surgery and she gained ALL her weight back. We really don't need to hear that. We know we can gain the weight back. You telling us this is like a hammer on a glass window. All we hear is "You look good now, but you're going to fail and be obese again." Just don't, okay? Each person is different and telling these stories is an insult to those who have had this surgery and maintained their loss. We, the ones who have braved the knife, want to be successful. We want to know we made the right decision for our health. Don't knock us down. We're like pregnant women. Don't tell us horror stories about births gone wrong. It's just not necessary. Thanks.

I don't have a picture because, again, Big Girl Brain never thinks she looks good enough to take one for the update picture. I will take one within the week and have the oldest work her magic for a collage. Remember now, when you see me, you'll see a person who's lost weight. I see a person who has loose skin under her neck, more wrinkles around the eyes, and skin baggage around the middle area.

Positives from the past six months are:

-Crossing my legs. I never get tired of crossing my legs.
-Wearing tall boots with skinny jeans or leggings. I am a complete diva in my mind when I wear those boots.
-Discovering that the new hair growing on my head is curly. Really curly. To the point my stylist finally told me it was time to stop fighting it and work with it. Wait til you see it.
-Finally agreeing to fly to see my in-laws this summer. I haven't flown in ten years because I didn't want to buy another seat. True story. That, and I hate flying.
-Having amazing friends that are surely so exhausted from hearing the ups and down from this surgery, yet still talk me through the hard parts and lift me up when I need them to do so. Thank you, Neighbor Debbie and Sherry Lou!
-My family has adjusted to my new way of eating. My almost 9 year old son knows what Mama can't have and he doesn't mind reminding me. I need that.

I suppose I need to quit saying life after gastric bypass eventually. It's simply life. My life. I'm loving it and working on loving it more and more each day. My marriage is strong and we celebrate ten years this September! The Man has something up his sleeve and I'm content to sit back and wait for it to happen. My children are beautiful and healthy. Each child is walking their own path and I'm lucky enough to be along for the ride to shake the pom poms when they succeed and hug them when it doesn't go just right. 

Yeah, it's simply just life.

Simply a Good Marriage...

I've encountered a few questions here and there in the past year related to my surgery. Most are easy to answer...others make me stop and think a moment or two.

The one question I've been asked time and again is "How's your marriage? Is it better or worse?" Even my therapist has asked me that same question at least twice (is she trying to trip me up and get a different answer?)

I'll be glad to answer that question.

My marriage is amazing.

It is better than amazing. It's simply over the moon.

Nope. I'm not lying. Hand on the Bible. (and we all know how I love me some Jesus) I am telling the honest full complete truth.

I would have never had this surgery if I didn't have the support of my husband behind me 110%. Sure, it was ultimately my decision to make, but I needed him to be standing beside me every step of the way. And he has. He went to the seminars with me, doctor's appointments, pre-op appointments, and he was there when they wheeled me back to surgery and was waiting when I got back to the room. He knows as much as I do about the post-op life and keeps a loving eye on me when I eat to make sure I'm okay. He doesn't hover over me, but I know he's watching and when the food addiction wants to take control again, he's there to help me get a handle on that raging monster.

Many marriages don't survive a spouse having a drastic weight loss. Insecurities rise to the surface and the marriage can drown. Many WLS* patients who are in unhappy marriages pre-op find confidence that was deeply hidden after the weight loss and will spread their wings. My wings were never clipped so I never worried about my marriage drowning in the aftermath.

We have taken this walk together. I'm about 35 lbs smaller than when we met and started dating. Oh yeah....this man is loving the new and improved Miss Hope. I've rediscovered confidence I forgot existed. Then again, I'm paranoid and very reluctant to wear more fitted clothing. So many times I put an outfit on and critique it in the mirror (usually on Sunday mornings before church) and when I'm an inch away from changing into something else....he reassures me that it's fine and I believe him. He has ALWAYS called me "Beautiful", even when I didn't believe him because I knew what I looked like in the mirror. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but one day we were going on base/post and I looked at my military I.D. and then I put it beside my face and said, "Wow! Look at this!" He glanced over and did a double take. He then said the most memorable thing. He said..."Ya know, I never saw you like that. I just saw my beautiful wife."

Please, don't think we're not a normal couple. We disagree on occasion. I backseat drive better than anyone I know and it gets me lots of sideways eye rolls and huffs of exasperation. I also PMS like nobody's business once a month, and still he stays. I tend to nag when I ask for something to be done and weeks later I'm still waiting. Yet, here he stays.

Tomorrow is our 9 year wedding anniversary. We joke all the time that we've known each other 11 years total and STILL LIKE EACH OTHER! I can't imagine my life without him. I want to grow old with this man. I want to finish raising our kids, spoil grankids, and travel in our golden years with this man.

I am grateful my husband had an amazing upbringing with wonderful parents. I love his parents with all my heart and wish we lived closer to each other all the time. Anyone who knows my in-law's can testify I'm telling the truth. Neighbor Debbie and I share custody of them at times and she claims them for her own, too. I know I'm blessed to have such a loving relationship with my mother and father in-law. I cherish it and hold it close. They did an amazing job raising my husband (although my FIL would be glad to tell you a few stories about raising The Man that would make you think a little different!) and they love their grandchildren fully and completely. My children know the love of grandparents even though distance separates them. Thank you, Mrs. M and Mr. C!!! I owe you a debt of gratitude!

Raising kids isn't easy, either. This Man has been the most amazing father to my three babies. He may butt heads with the oldest at least once a week, but that gal knows her Daddy loves her. In fact, she'll text him quicker than she will me! The middle child is comfortable and confident in his love. They give each other a hard time and pick like crazy on each other, but she's quick to sit on his lap like she's still 2 years old when she needs a Daddy moment. Oh, that boy of ours. He is quite the handful, but that boy loves his Dad and his favorite time is when they go every three weeks to get a haircut and stop at the Waffle House for breakfast. It's their time and it's special. I thank God all the time for letting this man be the Father he is to these incredible people we've been blessed to raise.

I appreciate every single time he opens a door for me. I appreciate how he never fails to tell me I look nice/good/beautiful when we go somewhere. I appreciate how when we're sitting in the evenings watching t.v. and I look over at him and say..."Hey, I'll give you a dollar if you fix me something to drink (usually coffee)." and he will get up and do it. (I probably owe him a few hundred bucks by now.) I appreciate how he loves me and accepts me as I am....even when I can't.

Happy Anniversary, Honey. I look forward to many many more with you. There's nothing better than being able to tell you I love you every single day and mean it from the bottom of my heart.

*WLS-Weight Loss Surgery

One Blessed Year Later.....

(image courtesy of google images)

Well, hello!! Welcome to my celebration! Yes, my friends, it's been ONE year since my surgery. August 18, 2011 happened to be one serious life changing day for this ol' gal. 

Some people in the weight loss community call this a Surgiversary. I'm cool with that. I don't really remember being in the world much this time last year. Little did I know just how much life would be changing for me.

Since my last post wasn't the greatest in being positive, I have deemed my celebration post to be all positive.

Being positive will allow me to tell you about some of the NSV's I've experienced in the past twelve months. An NSV is a Non-Scale Victory. It's those little and big things that are not related to the scale. I've had a few that have made me happy, cry a little, and just plain out do a happy dance.

I think my favorite one is being able to cross my legs. You read that right. I love being able to cross my legs like a lady and not hurt. I was able to do this comfortably a few months ago and every single time I do it, I grin on the inside.

I've lost 8 sizes in clothes. Think about that a minute. Women's clothes go by 2's, you know (2,4,6, and etc). Suffice it to say, I was on the high end of the plus size spectrum. I now shop in the misses department with ease. Ha. No, I don't. The first time I went in the misses section was ....well, it was hard. My husband and I went to a store after supper out with the friends one night. I needed some pants. All of mine were falling off. He did a pit stop at the bathroom and I headed on to see to what I could find. I automatically went to the plus size section. When I got there, I realized the clothes were too big. I just stood there a minute. I walked over to the misses section and just stood there again. When my husband found me, I was literally about in tears because I was so overwhelmed and didn't know where to start. The choices! The styles! Oh my!! It's funny now, but it sure wasn't funny then. It's been 14 years since I've been able to shop in a section where the tags read small, medium, and large.

My fingers are thinner now. Since ring sizes go by half sizes, we can safely say the size 10.5 I wore before can't compare with the size 7 I can wear now. Yes, another eight sizes lost in the hands. Just within the past couple of weeks I had to go buy a simple wedding band. My original rings fell off long ago and the ring of my Mama's was too loose for me to feel safe wearing.

Let's talk about shoe sizes, too, shall we? I've worn a size 10 since I was ten years old. No joke. Firm foundation is what my Daddy has always called it. When I lost a hundred pounds fifteen years ago, I got down to a size 9. (I still miss those shoes!) Giving birth twice after that weight loss plus putting on a massive amount of weight, I've flirted with some size 11 shoes in the past couple of years. I've got plenty of size 10's, but some 11's have snuck into my closet. Lately, I've been buying size 9.5 shoes.

While on the subject of shoes, guess who has some sassy  heels? Yeah, baby, this GIRL has some heels. And you know what?? I can wear them without dying!! They are actually comfortable! And I feel awesome wearing them, too!

I am off of my cholesterol medication. That was HUGE for me. Having to take that medication scared me. In my mind, that was flirting with danger right there. My family doctor took me off of that medication within a couple months of the surgery and I've had blood tests to check for it every three months since then. I am officially off of it and not worried about it now.

My blood pressure blows my mind. I was an inch away from being put on medication before surgery. I was going to be just like my Mama and on blood pressure medication when I hit my 40's. Well, lo and behold, that stupid pressure has gone the opposite direction! Now, I have low blood pressure and get the dizzies when I stand up. My pulse is lower and I honestly don't feel like my body is struggling like it was 13 months ago.

What about sweat? Anyone who is overweight knows sweat intimately. It's what happens all the time no matter what the weather is like. Summer time is hard, especially in The South. There's nothing like trying to put on a little makeup during the summer and it basically starts melting off before you hit the front door. Lord help when you hit the humidity. There goes the rest of it down the drain. It has been wonderful not sweating all the time. In fact, I stay cold in buildings and keep coats in the trunk of the car. I feel sure I will be wearing thermal underwear this winter as my core temperature struggles to regulate. I read that may be problem for a year or two while my body adjusts. I'm perfectly fine with that.

I'm in therapy now. Can I just say I just love me some good therapy? I have no shame in admitting I need help with figuring out the root of my food addiction. I want to fix it. If I can't fix it, I want to understand it and have better tools in my arsenal to fight that demon that lives inside of me. I am very blessed that a renowned psychologist who specializes in addictions and treating WLS patients lives in this area. We're really digging into my psyche and I may fall apart before all is said and done, but if I do? Putting the pieces back together to make a better Miss Hope is worth it.

Pain is not a constant in my life anymore. I think I do have a tad bit of arthritis in my left hip, but years of being overweight and three pregnancies are big contributing factors with that issue. Before, just standing at the washing machine killed my back. Standing at the stove crippled my back with pain. Walking long distances (like simple grocery shopping throughout a grocery store) would almost put me in tears. I have none of those issues now. I can shop like a champ, walk the mall, and wash clothes all day long.

These are just a few NSV's that I wanted to share. I'm sure there are more, but I don't want to bore you all too much. You've been too patient with me like it is. I'm excited to experience more this upcoming year.

I...uh...went through my pictures trying to figure out what to share with you. I am ashamed of how bad I looked before surgery. Recently, a friend asked how much weight I had lost and I told them I was almost embarrassed to say because it meant I came from a bad place. I need to stop that. I made some poor choices with my food, health, and body. I stepped up and am now trying my best to work with this amazing tool I've been given so as to improve my food choices, my health, and my body. Yes, it was bad. Now it's not so much.

Thank you for hanging with me the past year. So many of you have supported me and I am forever grateful. The battle hasn't been won, but it's been a heck of a fight.

One year after surgery (give or take a day because you really don't start losing until the week after because of surgery and such).........

I HAVE LOST 140 LBS !!!!!!!!


(clicking on the collage should make it bigger for you to see. My computer guru is at college now and I had to muddle my way through this thing. Sorry!)

 This was me in January of 2011 during a visit for Neighbor Greg's Military Retirement. Silly me thought if the picture was from the neck up, you couldn't see the bad part. Yeah.

This was in the past month. Neighbor Debbie gave me that lovely necklace for my birthday and when I wore it to church, I took a picture for her as proof I loved it.

I went this morning for my one year visit with the surgeon. He said he declares me a success thus far. So do I. All my nutrition levels are good and I am to keep doing what I'm doing. I do believe I shall. I'm having a few issues with the gall bladder and it will probably have to come out sooner rather than later. Eh, that's pretty standard for WLS kids.  (For some reason, the gall bladder surgery TERRIFIES me.) He also said my coffee addiction love is okay, too.

I'm feeling pretty decent, Internets. Yep...pretty dang decent.





Consumed

Hi. I just finished writing this post and realized..wow, it's long. Apologies if you're bored, but I'm keeping it real. You might want to fix a fresh beverage or pack a snack before reading. And as always....your comments and feedback are appreciated.




How's everyone doing this fine hot summer? We're tooling right along here in the extremely hot Southeast USA. I had an outing this weekend with some ladies and while eating supper, they asked many questions about my surgery and how things are going. One made the comment that I needed to blog about my experiences more than I have. So, I figured I would take a minute to talk a little bit more about myself and what's been going down in the life of Miss Hope.

Next month is my one year anniversary since the change of my life. I will take that time to tell you all about the good side and how much better my health is and blah blah and etc. Right now, I'll tell you how consumed I am and may be just a tad overwhelmed at times.

Before surgery, I never worried about eating. That's kind of obvious because I was what is called SMO (super morbid obese). *shudder* I hate that I let my body get to that term in my medical files. How can I put this to explain what I'm trying to say?

Let's try this. How many of you really worry about what you're going to eat for your next meal? You eat breakfast, lunch, supper, and maybe a snack or two. Not much thought goes into it unless you're cooking a big meal and need prior preparation. Before surgery, I ate what I wanted for breakfast, if I even ate breakfast. No joke. I am not a breakfast eater and couldn't understand why on earth I got so big when I wasn't eating twenty four hours a day. I never ate a super huge lunch, either. Sandwich and chips were fine or just the sandwich alone. I always tried to fix a good hearty supper (I am Southern so think of hearty in capital letters) for the family and I took full advantage of that meal. It was nothing for me to ask the hubby to bake up some peanut butter cookies maybe every other month and sit and eat a plate straight from the oven.

If I thought about food, it was along the lines of  "hmm, I just finished lunch, wonder what I can whip up for supper or where can we go eat?" You think about food, but it brings warm fuzzies because you just adore it.

All that changed on August 18, 2011.

I wasn't prepared.

I wasn't prepared for how my world would change so drastically on that day.

I had some serious buyer's remorse in the few weeks after surgery. I know now that having that feeling is normal and common. I cried to my husband as I smelled all this wonderful stuff I couldn't eat. I wailed to my family, "What have I done to myself? How could I do this?? I will never eat agaaaaaaaainnnnn!!!"

Yeah, it got ugly, people.

Little did I know that we store estrogen in our fat cells and Miss Hope had fat cells popping left and right so the hormones were going off like a ticker tape parade that wouldn't end. I was a big pot of a hot mess. (Apologies if I've mentioned this in a previous post, but if I could prepare one person going to have this surgery about anything afterwards, this is it right here.)

My cycle went completely bonkers on me, because yet again....hormones being released at a crazy rate into my system. At my six week post-op visit, I told the smug acting doctor who replaced my amazing surgeon that he really needed to warn women about this because I thought I was dying. Seriously. I went to my family doctor just knowing I was dying and she calmed me down and assured me that I was totally normal and what was going on was normal, too. Just to let you know, I did try to convince the wonderful Dr. C to remove my uterus while he was doing the gastric bypass and he said, "1. I don't mess with girly parts. (yes, he said that) and 2. I want to take as little time as possible with surgery for your sake." I remember looking at him and saying, "Surely, you got a golf buddy who is an ob/gyn who could slip in beside you?" Yeah, I wish I had pushed that a little harder.

I still have my gall bladder, too. Most surgeons will go ahead and remove a gall bladder during WLS (weight loss surgery) because chances are you will have it removed within 18 months or less due to massive and quick weight loss. I think I had an issue with it a few months ago and went in to see Dr. Smug. He told me he believes in yanking it out and taking a look around while inside. BEHOLD! I felt immediately better! It was a miracle! I kid you not. I haven't had any issues since, but I've tried to watch what I eat so as not to aggravate it further. Miss Hope doesn't feel like going under again any time soon.

Now to address the eating part.

Gah.

Before surgery, I would eat what I wanted. Now? I eat to stay alive. Big difference.

And it's hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Impossible? Not at all. Just different than my life had been up until that point.

I am told that I need to get in 60-80 grams of protein a day. 64 or more ounces of fluid that has no sugar is required.

People, that is hard to do. Count one day as you eat and see for yourself. I really don't want this post to turn into a long boring piece about what I eat day by day, so suffice it to say it is not easy. I can only eat around 3/4 to one cup of food per sitting. Some days my system is grouchy and I'm lucky to get in a 1/2 cup of food. If you don't eat enough protein, you won't lose weight. True story. Your body will hang onto every single thing you ingest because it believes you are trying to starve yourself. Talk about messing with your mind!

I have become consumed with food. I hate that part. I hate that before I loved food and never worried about fat, protein and carb content. I hate that now I am obsessed with making sure I give my body what it needs to survive and lose what it needs to lose. I hate that I end up talking about it with Neighbor Debbie and Sherry Lou so much because I know they're bored senseless with my ramblings. God bless 'em, though, because they have been such amazing support and never act like I'm bugging them. They listen. They make suggestions. They keep me sane. I would literally be locked up by now if it wasn't for my husband, children (they police me "have you had enough to drink, Mama? Have you had enough protein today?"), Neighbor Debbie, Neighbor Greg, Big J and Sherry Lou. These people are on my Christmas List from now on and forever.

I can't have rice, breads, pastas, or sweets. You know, all that is Southern and good. It will cause the dumping episode. (posted the dumping link before but it helps you understand better) I am scared of the dumping syndrome. I've had it happen a couple of times because of crazy reasons. I didn't do it intentionally, but sugar/carbs hide in food that you don't know about and I've been caught unawares. I miss these foods. Wait, let me see if I can make you understand. I MISS THESE FOODS. With every fiber of my being.

Addiction much? Many WLS patients scoff when you mention food addiction. I believe it exists and I have it. Let me ask you this. Why do we have pity and label someone who is an alcoholic or hooked on drugs an addict and we're all "Let's help them! Put them in rehab! Let's get them straight!" They tell the addict to avoid the situations where alcohol is involved. Get away from that former life. Hey, Drug Addict, you need to avoid the "friends" you had before and get away from that former life, too! Uh...where do I go? I can't avoid my family. I love them. I can't avoid food. I kinda need it to live. I have triggers just like the alcoholic. If I were to eat a helping of pasta, I would want more. Even if it made me sick as a dog from dumping syndrome.

So, what do I do? I watch others eat what I can't have. I console myself with the fact that I've had enough of these foods in my life time to last five life times. Will I ever be able to eat them again? Probably. The further out from surgery you get, the more you are able to tolerate. I don't want to, though. I watched my Grandaddy be an alcoholic until I was six years old (yes, I remember his drinking) and after that, he was a recovering alcoholic until his death ten years ago. I hope and pray I can be as strong as he was and just put the bad away and concentrate on the good.

A few weeks ago, I didn't feel like cooking supper one night. I had some frozen pizzas in the freezer for a time such as this and I told The Man to cook 'em up for himself and the kids. For the first time since surgery, I was affected. Those pizzas smelled so good cooking, I couldn't hardly stand it. You know the cartoons where the subject is literally lifted off of the ground and lured somewhere by the aroma of something good? That's what I felt like. I stayed in the living room while they ate supper and sipped a protein shake. The Man went to run an errand and while he was gone, I walked in the kitchen. Big mistake. HUGE mistake. I just stood there and looked at that pizza with such longing. They had cooked a really thin crust cheese pizza for my son. I picked up a piece. I took a bite. I took another bite. I ate the whole piece. It wasn't a big piece, but I ate it. Then I went into panic mode and waiting for the dumping syndrome to begin. It didn't. Crap. What did I do? I ate another small piece. Son of a gun. What on earth was wrong with me??? I did feel a tad yucky but not a full fledged gonna die episode. (Had to tell you this after proofreading. When The Man got home, I told him I had a confession and then told him about the pizza. His response? "We'll have to work hard to make sure it doesn't happen again." We. He said "we". That's how he rolls. We're in this together. I loved him so good in that moment.)

I got scared. No, I was terrified. I ate something I wasn't supposed to eat.

The next morning, I called the therapist associated with my surgeon's office to make an appointment. She had a cancellation that week and I snatched it up. When I went into that appointment, I was a woman on a mission. I had been working on my body for almost 11 months at that time but never really worked on my head. It was time. Now, I want to go in my brain and find out the root of this addiction and see if I can find a way to control it. She was thrilled that I was terrified after eating the pizza. It meant I was aware and ready to fix the upstairs portion to match the downstairs. I believe that will be the best call I've made in a long time.

I've done much better since then. I have too much to lose, Literally and figuratively. I don't want to go through the surgery to reroute my insides, only to out eat all that hard work. I want to succeed with all my heart, mind, and soul.

I've said this before and I'll say it again and again. Weight loss surgery is NOT the easy way out. It's the last resort. I've lost so much weight over the years and regained. I was a foodaholic that kept falling off of the wagon over and over again. Will I fall again? I don't know. If I do, I will get up off my considerably smaller butt and run like crazy to jump back on that wagon. I have to, people. I owe it to myself first and my family and friends second to do what I can to be around for a while, God willing.

I admit that most days I am mad that I have to be consumed to my eyebrows with making sure I get enough protein and fluids in my system. I almost got dehydrated last week for the first time. I was busy and time got away from me and when I started getting sick, I realized I hadn't been drinking for two days like I was supposed to be doing. Now, I have Neighbor Debbie pointing her finger at me and saying "You drinking enough?"  when we're out and about.

I truly hope you don't think this is a negative post. It's really not how I intend to come across to my peeps. It's a new lifestyle I've been trying to adjust to while the world keeps going around me with so many distractions. I'm looking forward to my one year post where I tell you all the amazing NSV's (non-scale victories) I've had since last August. There will be pictures, of course.

I am asking that you do your level best to keep from judging those who have had to have weight loss surgery. The obese world is a hard world to live in..especially in society today. Trust me, we are hard enough on ourselves. We don't need unkind words, snickers, or asinine opinions from those who haven't had a weight problem of this magnitude. Just know we are properly jealous of those of you who can wear the cute clothes and eat whatever you want. We only want to be accepted and for you to get to know how cool we are on the inside.

Be kind to one another. Please.

Progress on Miss Hope Time!

Gonna keep this post short and sweet. I have met my first major goal since the surgery. It hasn't been easy and there are more goals in  my future I can't wait to meet and surpass.

I finally get to say....

I'VE LOST A HUNDRED FLIPPIN' POUNDS, PEOPLE!

It's Gettin' Real Now, Folks.

It's finally to the point I can't hide my head in the sand like an ostrich and pretend time is passing by and I get to hide from it.

Paige found out this past weekend that she was accepted to the college of her choice.

She came running down the stairs Saturday with wide eyes and holding her phone in front of her like it was on fire but she wasn't going to let go because she was on a mission to show me something.

I looked and there it was on the screen. The status saying : accepted.

Whoa.

We shared the wide eye'd look with each other and then got ten kinds of excited.

My baby is going to college. My 3 lb. 7 oz. baby who has fought for her way in this world since the day she was born is going to college. All by herself.

I am nothing but a mass of emotions now. I'm so thrilled and proud of her as she gets ready to start a new and exciting chapter in her young life. I'm sad because she's leaving me and if I know this kid, she won't look back when she walks out the door. She's that independant and ready to take on the world.

I should have been more mentally prepared for this, people. I've done her Senior ad in the yearbook. I've ordered her cap and gown. I've picked out the caterer for the reception at my house after graduation. I've told people what date everything is happening so they can put it on their calendars.

But, college?

Big Girl and Big Boy school? Where there's parties, and a lot less adult supervision. Where many great first loves are found. Where many hearts are broken for the first time. Where lives are planned and futures started.

Now, The Man and I have to go attend an orientation and see exactly where our child will hopefully live for at least four years and graduate. I have to go check out this place my baby girl will call home ... a home where I'm not living.

And on top of all of that?? The child has had her license for a year now and has become this tremendous help with errands and such since then. Now, I've got to go back to doing all the running around on my own. She ENJOYS running to W*lmart for bread and milk. ~sigh~ Life, you are so flippin' funny. You get my kid grown to where she can do all this amazing stuff, then you take her away. Well, I'm not laughing, Life. Not at all.

Ohhhh...before I forget to tell you. My doctor's office had a Ladie's Night this past Friday night. It was a meeting of WLS patients who could bring a  friend or family member to see vendors and such and have a nice stress free meeting. I was humbled and awe'd by the success stories I heard and saw with my own eyes. Paige went with me because I just didn't want to go there all by myself. Yeah, I'm not usually so wimpy, but I wanted to spend some time with just the two of us. Afterwards, we grabbed a late supper and sat and chatted while we ate. It was a wonderful time and a  memory that I will cherish with her.

And...................we took some pictures in the car before going in!

Had to take the "pretty" picture. Really like this one.

Annnnnd you get this. Cuz it's how we roll.

Ups, Downs, the Good, and How It Is

I have many different ranges of issues going on over here. Some are mental and others are physical on the old body. I promised I would keep it real and that's how I roll...on a fairly regular basis.

The loss thus far is 84 pounds. Not so shabby for five months (well, on the 18th it'll be five months), right? I still feel like it's not good enough. Many of you scoff and snort and wonder why on earth I would think that. I think that because right now I am consumed with my eating, with my pouch, with my protein intake, with my water intake, and that blessed set of scales in my bathroom. I hope I can make 100 pounds by my six month surgiversary because, People? I still have a long ways to go to get where I need to be. I stall out on a regular basis once a month. You do the math on that one. Yay for being a woman. For a solid week, I crave chocolate and every morning that stupid butt scale sits right there on the same number. The first couple of times it did this, I would call Neighbor Debbie all upset and carrying on about having this surgery for nothing and all kinds of hormonal rantings. She would listen like the friend she is and offer whatever I needed to hear that moment. Now, we've put a pattern to it and I'm not allowing myself to carry on until I'm absolutely positive my stall has nothing to do with my hormones. Fair enough.

I have lost around four sizes in clothes. Pants are what astound me the most. I have, at the moment, four pair of regular pants that fit (one of those being a pair of jeans). I have three pair of work out pants that I have washed nearly to death. And fashionistas out there? Kiss my entire still big butt. Yoga pants are the flippin' bomb and I big as you can get pink fluffy heart them. They are comfortable and flatter what I got going on here. Shirts are starting to get a little scarce, too. I went to an outlet this evening with the hubby to buy a couple of shirts to see me through for a while. I have found myself shopping in my daughter's closet and there might be a few shirts that didn't make it back to her closet after laundry day. I'm just borrowing, man, that's all.

While losing sizes in clothes, the fat is falling off of my face somewhat. Yeah, about all of that. Every day finds me discovering a new wrinkle. I know I'm now officially in my forties. I don't need a reminder, thankyouverymuch. I knew this was coming by having RNY. What I didn't expect was the turkey gobbler I have hanging from my neck. Oh, sweet Baby Jesus! I hope this issue under my chin gets a tad better. IT'S FLIPPIN' WRINKLED!  I am moisturizing like a fool and I secretly sit on the stool in front of my bathroom mirror pulling back my skin on my face just a smidgen. I'm trying very hard not to be vain about the new wrinkles emerging or the turkey gobbler hanging down on my neck. I am a female, though, my friends. While I am thrilled beyond belief that I am down from a half dozen chins to around two to three-ish....what I got going on just isn't attractive at the moment.

Let's talk about jewelry, shall we? I am now wearing my wedding rings on my middle finger so I don't lose them. My poor ring finger looks naked and it has this pitiful indention on it where I wore my rings no matter what size I was and if those suckers got tight in the summer? I took it like a woman and kept wearing them. I was able to wear a ring yesterday my parents gave me for Christmas ten years ago. I loved that ring and hated to put in the jewelry box when it wouldn't even go past the first knuckle of my finger. Out of curiosity, I picked it up yesterday and when it went all the way on my finger, I may have done an unwitnessed happy dance in my room in front of the jewelry box. I told my husband that when I get to the weight where I'm supposed to be, I may need a new wedding ring set. He hasn't disagreed. My father in law informed me that I could get my rings re-sized. I told him that no, I couldn't. He must have thought I misunderstood and told me again that I could get my wedding rings re-sized. Again, I told him no, I couldn't. Once more he tried to explain that the rings I was wearing that were too big could be made a smaller size. This time I responded, NO, they can't because I need a new set. His reply? Oh.

I keep waiting to lose a shoe size. I read where everyone has lost up to two shoe sizes. My feet must be hanging onto every bit of weight they can. Only one or two pair are a tad loose now and I am just wondering what's going to happen there.

The gym and I will never be good friends. I know this and accept this. The forums I frequent where RNY people gather all talk about how they LOVE going to the gym and working out and blah and gag and whatever. I don't quite hate the gym, but I sure don't skip out to the vehicle when it's time to go get on the dreadmill. Since I got that virus back around Thanksgiving, it's been hard to get back into a hard groove. I'm still going but it's just a chore, people. When I'm there, I don't skimp and put in almost two hours of cardio and weight machines. I figure if I drove there and am wearing the cute work out clothes, the least I can do is get my money's worth and try to tone up the bat wings my arms are carrying. I tell people I know the gym is a necessary evil to help me get to the good side. Being able to drop two medications because of exercise and weight loss keeps me motivated. Yes, I know this is something I need to do forever and ever, amen, in order to maintain weight loss and health. I just don't think I'll ever be one to skip with happiness to the gym because I get to work out and sweat.

There's an idea I'm toying around with, but am not sure I will go forward with putting it in action. First off, I appreciate all the comments on my FB (book of faces) after blog posts. (You all do realize you can post at the bottom of each post, right? You click on the word comment and you can talk to me all day long. Bloggers love comments about as much as they love the counter on the side and seeing where everyone is from. That's just a rumor I heard.) What I appreciate more is the private messages I've received from people who have family members who have had WLS (weight loss surgery). Messages from people who have thought about having the surgery their own selves. Now, this is where some of you will think, "OMG, she's talking about me!" I've received no less than a dozen of these private messages. I try to respond in a positive honest manner. Some people have even come out of the WLS closet and admitted that they've had a WLS, but have told no one. All of the above has touched me and I want you all to know that my "door" is always open for anyone that needs/wants to talk about this subject. Because of this, I am toying with starting a FB page for my blog so people can like it and really talk to me if they want to do so. This is for those who aren't my BFF on FB (and the military thought THEY had the corner on acronyms) and might have a question or comment they wish to share that's private. I'd appreciate some feedback on this if you don't mind.

I am such a slacker. I didn't put up my Christmas decoration pictures. Ya gotta give me some sympathy here, please. I'm a little hyper-focused on my self right now and it's hard to shake that. I also kind of can't shake it right now because I HAVE to stay that focused in order to make all of this a success. My children aren't being neglected, nor is The Man. If I'm not thinking about how much fluid I've drank so far that day, I'm eye'ing my living room trying to figure out what color I'm going to paint my two story living room this Spring. (I'm thinking a nice neutral green that's not too dark or minty bright- any suggestions?) I'm also shopping online at the moment for a foyer pendant light because the one I have is awful and I can't get it on Gregslist fast enough. I will give that bad boy away. See? So many things going on and not enough time to get it all done before my itty bitty baby girl graduates high school in May.

I'm still here and chugging right along in my new life journey. Again, all your positive remarks and encouragement have helped me more than you could ever know. This is hard and it's not easy, and when I feel a little down? You all help me up. Thank you.

New Year, New Goals, and a New Car!

I hope you all had yourselves a grand Christmas and New Year's Eve. My husband got home and had time off until the New Year and I sat back and enjoyed him tremendously. This year my Mom and Pop in law got to spend Christmas with us. It was so nice and it was also the first time my husband has had a Christmas with both parents in ten years. I won't bore you with the Santa goodness my children received. Suffice it to say, Santa is a flippin' loon at our house. My kids don't get stuff all year long. They get birthday presents and maybe one other little thing around Labor Day, but other than that? Nope. My son doesn't even get to peruse the toy aisles at stores during the year except at his birthday and in November (to get ideas for Santa). He doesn't even ask to go look because he knows he won't get anything. I won't let him look and suffer because his Mama is a hard case and won't give in to the "I want" mentality kids get when going through toy aisles.

My favorite gift from Christmas was a medic alert bracelet. Yep, no kidding. It is highly suggested that bariatric surgery patients wear one because we have a few new issues. I'm not supposed to have a blind NG tube now. (That's when they shove the breathing tube down your throat.) Shoving one in blind can rupture my pouch (stomach) if it goes down the wrong way. The tag has my name, surgery type, a few details, and my husband's cell phone number on it. I know some of you are thinking, "those bracelets are so unattractive". I beg to differ! Miss Hope's is all fancy-like. My husband ordered mine from Lauren's Hope.  I do love me some jewelry, friends. The joy of these bracelets is that I can use one tag and get many many bracelets to jazz it up. This one is what he got for me that I love love love! He also got this one so I can change things up a bit. Of course, I've been shopping a little bit and found a few more that I think would be excellent additions to medic alert bracelet collection. It has been decided that we're going to get one for him since he has a little bit (understatement) reaction to penicillin. I am not being paid to advertise for this site...I just love the product.

Between Christmas and New Year's Eve, we had to go buy a car. The teenager is ecstatic she now has the Loser Cruiser (2000 Chevy Impala) to call her own. She has a few stickers purchased at the beach on vacation last year that she is dying to put on the back window and now she can.

Our vehicle buying expedition was fun. I love to go car buying! My husband had researched vehicles the whole time he was up North in class and he was ready to go decide which one was going to be his very own. I went along as The Negotiator. Oh, yes, my friend, Miss Hope steps in and stares down a salesman and his manager without blinking.

We had narrowed our selection down to two vehicles by the second day. The Nissan Altima and the Hyundia Sonata. Mr. Sonata salesman started out on the wrong foot.When we arrived at his dealership, he walked right past me to shake my husband's hand. *blink* *blink* I then said, "What's your Mama's name?" He paused in shock and told me before he even thought about it. I told him, "Well, I am going to call her because you walked right by me, THE LADY, to shake my husband's hand when you should have come to me first. Are you from around here??" The poor guy, still in shock, told he was from the area. I then sniffed and said, "Then you should have known better."

I think it turns my husband on when I get into negotiating mode. The salesmen and managers try to talk to him and here I am, leaning in to get into their line of sight, making them look at me, and talk to me. My husband sits back in his chair and doesn't say a word, but grins this smug grin at them. Many times I caught them looking at him with this "is she for real??" look on their faces. I flat out told them that we were going to drive off of a lot that day with a new car. It could be their car or their competition's car down the street. The manager comes in to sit down behind the desk in front of us. He was just precious with his big bald self. He starts into the re-sell value and such. I put my hand on the desk and politely said, "That's all fine and dandy, but I have a vehicle at home that is going to be twelve years old. I don't intend on buying a car and turning around and selling it in two weeks, Let's move past this conversation, please." After a few more minutes of extolling the virtues of the Sonata, he was back to holding its value. I looked at my husband then and said, "Are we back to THIS tired conversation??" He then stopped with that thread of thought. He finally conceded to my stubborn self and put down his absolute best offer. As the manager, he threw in car cleaning and detailing twice a month for however long we own the car and one year of free oil changes. That made me raise my eyebrow in appreciation because my husband is NOT one to keep his vehicle clean which drives me and my teenager insane. I stood up, shook his hand, and told him if we were buying his vehicle, we'd see him again within an hour or two.

The Man and I rolled down the street to the Nissan dealer. We had been there the night before and had gotten an idea of the offer they put on the table. We strolled in and waited for the guy we had spoken with the night before to come in. I must also mention that the night before, I also told him we were going to be purchasing a vehicle within 24 hours and he needed to give me an offer that would knock my socks off. I left with my socks still on my feet. Great offer, but still wearing socks. Since our guy was busy, the manager came over to talk to us. I flat out told him we were down to his car and another and he could make the difference. He asked me what he needed to do and I told him I was glad he asked. I told him that I wanted a car cleaning and detail once a month. The other place had offered twice a month, but I would be satisfied with one visit a month to keep the car snappy looking. I also wanted a year of free oil changes. He sat there a second and left to crunch some figures.

That morning before we left out to make our final decision, I found my husband at the breakfast table with some consumer magazine in one hand, laptop in front of him, and USAA on the phone for insurance quotes. The man knew what a decent price would be for both vehicles and really? Both vehicles were comparable in price and features. I asked him before we reached the dealership what a fair price would be per all his research and he told me. Those were the prices I was aiming for and maybe a tad lower.

Mr. Nissan Manager came back with what I asked for and an even lower price than the night before. I looked over the paperwork, asked a few questions, and stood up to leave. I told him that my husband and I were refusing to make a snap decision and we were going to go to lunch to discuss it. If we went with his car, he would know in about an hour.

We sat down to lunch and grinned at each other. The Altima had beat the Sonata by over $3,000. Maybe the Sonata had a couple of features that were cooler than the Altima, but really? My 6 foot tall husband fit better in the Altima and felt a little bit more comfortable riding in it. It didn't matter to me as this was going to be his vehicle to carpool with and only mine a little on the off days to drive to the gym. I told him to go ahead and call our sales guy and tell him to start the paperwork and get fog lights (a must for my husband) installed.

By the time we arrived back after lunch, the fog lights were installed and it was about to be taken to be detailed. I was bored then because I had done what I was there to do. We got the paperwork taken care and my husband had to take off for a doctor's appointment. I got to drive the new car home. Oh, and I got the car cleaning and detail work once a month and FOUR oil changes (with no time constraints) in writing to go with my paperwork.

This year is going to full of negotiations (in February we will have TWO teenage girls under one roof), new situations (said oldest teenager heading off to college), and who knows what else?? Maybe I need to up my nerve medication until next New Year's?

I am doing well with my new lifestyle in the eating world. I am now down 81 lbs!! I still have a ways to go, but I'm seeing results and smaller sized clothing. The holidays were hard with food, as I'm sure they always will be, but I made it through to the other side. I saw my surgeon a few days before Christmas for a check-up and we got along much better this time. I don't know if it's because The Man went with me so as to meet him and see his face, or if both he and I were in a better place. I got kind of whiny over missing rice, bread, pasta, and sweets. He shrugged and told me it was okay to TASTE something. Oh yeah? Then he told me I could have apples and I kind of zoned after that and a few minutes later I told him, "I'm so excited over apples, I can't hardly think straight right now!" I think the ability to taste something has helped me out so much. I know I can't have a piece of pie, or a huge helping of mac-n-cheese. But, I can TASTE it!! Since then, if I feel I "need" to, I get one small taste, just to get the flavor on my tongue and in my mouth and I'm perfectly fine after that. I find that I don't want a big helping or half of a cake. I just want to literally taste it and I thoroughly enjoy that little taste and have been fine. I was told to keep my carbs at no more than 18 grams a meal. Yeah, Miss Hope can't go that high without getting really sick feeling. Keeping it at around 10-12 keeps me from getting sick so that's where I'm going to stay for now. Doc told me to eat steak. I wrinkled my nose and told him that was like eating a sock. Apparently, that's normal and I have to work past it because steak is good for us WLS people as it's good protein and will stay in the pouch longer and provide that "full" feeling. We'll see how that goes.

I'm going to head on out of here. Neighbor Debbie and I have plans to catch up on some shows this morning since I'm waiting to go to the gym this evening with Paige. I'm kind of doing that so the B12 shot I got yesterday will have enough time to really kick in and give me the boost I need to work out. I have been a hot mess the past week waiting to get that shot yesterday. Now, my doctor is out to figure out a way to help me out. More details on that later. You all take care of yourselves now. It's been chilly out!