Un-be-sleevable!!!

omg

News Flash!!!

This just in from the OMG department:

I don’t have a lot of time this afternoon and I don’t want to dally around with this post because I’m just too flipp’in excited about it…so I’m gonna give it to you just like you like it: quick and dirty.

I had my 3 month follow-up appointment at my surgeon’s office today and suffice to say…I rock. I was weighed and measured today and they explained my lab tests to me. I’ve lost 61 pounds, this we know thanks to the lovely little ticker on the upper right of the screen. Here are the stats on my measurements:

I’ve lost an inch off my neck. My neck!!!

3.5 inches off the boobs. (Sorry, Hot Mess Hubby!)

3/4 inch off my bicep

1.25 inches off my wrist

7 inches off my waist!!!!!!!!!!! Holy crap!

7.5 inches off my hips!!!!!!!!!! OMG, someone catch me…I’m gonna lose my shit.

1.25 inches off my gigantic thigh. Shrink, you bastards!

And .5 inch off my calves

That’s 21.75 inches of weight loss fun…and I can’t contain my happy dance any longer.

Un-freaken-believable. Err…un-be-sleevable!!! Thank you, Gastric Sleeve!!!

Notes from the Nurse Practitioner for the future: I’m to consume 90 grams of protein per day (my previous goal was 80) and I’m to begin upper body resistance training. Totally do-able.

I also promised those of you who have liked my Facebook fan page that I’d share the latest NSV (Non-Scale Victory) with you…

Last Saturday I had the pleasure of sitting down to lunch with two long-time fans of my blog who happen to live in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. We met at the restaurant and, as we were following the hostess to our table, I realized I’d forgotten to whisper “Can we have a table…not a booth please?” to the hostess. So of course the hostess leads us to a booth and I’m horror struck for a few seconds.

Oh great, I hear myself say in my head. This will be one for my memoir. I’m about to get my four asses stuck in a booth in front of two of my blog fans. Shit.

Except I didn’t get stuck. Because I don’t have four asses anymore…I only have three. I could have danced around the entire restaurant, but that probably would have been a little much to spring on Crystal and Denise. I’ll save it for next time.

Peeps, I can’t tell you how flipp’in happy I was. I can’t remember exactly how long it’s been since I’ve been able to fit in a booth but I can say it’s been about 7 years. Ridiculously too long. And you know what? They feel much better on my three remaining asses than those awful hard chairs. Rock’in!

I’m sure there are some booths I still won’t fit in, but I don’t give a crap. I fit in this one. Seriously awesome.

I’ll leave you with this picture of us at the restaurant. It was very cool to finally be able to meet these two awesome chicks after enjoying their comments on my Facebook fan page and blog for so long (not to mention their private messages, which are pretty damn entertaining as well)!!!

It was an honor for my three asses to share a booth with their considerably smaller asses. ♥

From left: me, Denise, Cheyenne, and Crystal.
From left: me, Denise, Cheyenne, and Crystal.

 


Valeo Hand Weights

This Is What Effing Awesome Looks Like

BOOM!

I know, I know, I know…if you’ve never been a super fatty you’re probably not going to understand this at all. But if you are or have been a super fatty or if you’re just super awesomely empathetic, you get this. And I love you for it.

Just a few short months ago, putting my shoes on meant sitting on the couch and propping my leg up on the cushion in order to be able to reach my foot. I couldn’t change my shoes at work…ever. I couldn’t lean over far enough to reach my feet because there was too much me in the way.

Now it’s 3 1/2 months later and I’ve lost 61 pounds…and being able to reach my damn feet is just the latest in a fabulous chain of awesome NSV’s (that’s Non-Scale Victories to those of you not in-the-know). If you’ve just stumbled across my blog recently, here are some of the highlights over the past 3 1/2 months:

Fitting into my blue jeans again!

No more blood pressure meds!

No more migraines!

Being able to trust my farts again (click here to see why that’s important…if you dare!)

Moving past the 45 pound demon!

Dropping my first size!

Losing 50 pounds!

By the way, as a special treat for hitting the 50 pounds lost mark I decided to celebrate by getting myself a little something special: a silver Pandora bracelet and charm. I love the idea of celebrating my milestones by adding charms to my bracelet…and I chose a cute little mirror as my first charm. Why?

Because the mirror isn’t such a scary thing anymore.

 

Just to add a little visual impact, here’s a picture of 383 pound me at a work function last November. To protect the dignity and identity of the Vice President I was posing with, I’ve cleverly disguised him as Robert Downey Jr.

You’re welcome.

I’ve come a long way…and I’m really quite proud of myself. After over 20 years of struggling with my weight and food issues, I’m so grateful that I finally had the courage to change and embrace the wonderful tool that gastric sleeve surgery is. It’s such a lot of work, but it’s such an amazing tool if you’re really ready for it. You can’t sit back and let the surgery do the work for you or you’re not going to learn anything and you’re going to end up gaining it all back. I’m proud to say that I started making dramatic, permanent changes to my life long before they wheeled me into that operating room.

My life is so wonderfully different than it was before surgery. I’ve given up fast food, sugar, and diet soda. I no longer obsess over calories, fat, and carbs. My life is all about protein and eating healthy. I drink water. And I exercise. This is work, but it’s wonderful work. It’s life changing…and I’m really quite proud of the bad-ass I’m becoming.

Sure, I still have a long way to go. I’ve lost 61 pounds but I was more than 200 pounds overweight when I started this. Thanks to gastric sleeve surgery, I know for the first time in my Hot Mess life that I’ll get there. This tool simply eliminates my ability to screw myself up by overeating. That’s all it does. It’s not a magic pill or a miracle cure. It doesn’t make me magically not want cookies or french fries. It doesn’t make me allergic to fatty, unhealthy foods. I can eat anything I want to…if I want to. But I don’t. Because once I made the decision to have surgery, I started to grow up. (And really…once you put yourself through that whole surgery ordeal you’ve got to be bat-shit cray to chase it down with french fries and ice cream, right?)

I’m learning to make peace with food. I’m following the advice of my awesome surgeon and my fabulous nutritionist: if I really want something, I have it. A taste of it. I eat my protein first and then I really only have room for a couple of bites of whatever it is. A couple french fries. Two bites of cake. A cookie. Those things aren’t harmful if you just have a bite or two every once in a while. Hell, even Jennifer Aniston eats cookies. See? I eat just like Jennifer Aniston. I freak’in rock.

 

I’m not the only one either. I know you’re effing awesome too…so tell me how by leaving a comment. I’m all ears. And a lot of butt still.

Because some things take more time than others.

 


Sterling Silver Princess Crown Ring

I’m Not Rocky Balboa

You know that scene in one of the Rocky movies when he’s training? He runs through the streets of Philly as his fans cheer him on, then he runs up those stairs and throws his arms in the air in victory as the then-inspiring but now nauseating “Gonna Fly Now” song blares in the background. Remember?

rocky2

I had a Rocky Balboa moment on Sunday. Well…I thought I did.

When I first bought my elliptical trainer, I could only do 5 minutes before I was jumping off in a sweaty, oozy heap. I hated clunking along on the damn thing, feeling like a hippo stuck in quicksand. It wasn’t very motivating.

Since I don’t normally enjoy feeling like a hippo stuck in quicksand, I avoided the elliptical trainer frequently. Because naturally what you should do if you’re trying to get healthy is avoid exercise, am I right? And then when I was done avoiding exercise I made sure to give myself a very healthy dose of guilt…because who doesn’t love guilt, right? It’s so good for morale, really. It perks you right up. This is the kind of misguided thinking that got me to gain 220 pounds in the first place…trust me.

It took a few weeks, but I finally came around to realizing that sitting on the couch and mentally berating myself for avoiding the elliptical trainer wasn’t getting me where I wanted to be. In fact, after I hit the sacred 45 pound mark I was eager to get to 50…so I made a deal with myself last week that I would just give it a shot. I promised myself that I would get on the elliptical every day last week for at least 10 minutes and see where that got me.

Bad Ass Couch copy

Monday came and I did 10 minutes of stuck-in-the-mud hippo leg pumping. I started hurling mental crap at myself for not being able to do more. (Because that’s helpful, right?) I actually had to tell myself to shut it. And I did. I focused my attention back on what I could do.

Tuesday came…10 minutes. Wednesday came. I begrudgingly tried 15 minutes. I’m pleased to inform y’all that I did not, in fact, die. I was just fine. Thursday came. I dropped a pound and did 15 minutes. Friday came and I set the timer thingy for 15 minutes…but as my 15 minutes were coming to an end, I realized that I felt just fine. I knew I could do more.

I finished Friday with 25 minutes…and for the first time, I felt a little glimmer of pride. I was also really sweating for the first time since I’d started this experiment. Don’t get me wrong, 10 minutes of leg-pumping hippo cardio is great…but I wasn’t left feeling particularly productive at the end of it. I wasn’t even really sweating. All I had to show for it was sort of a pasty, sticky feeling…much like what I’d get if I accidentally got too close to a Kardashian, I imagine.

Saturday I woke up, stepped onto the bathroom scale, and discovered that I was 1 pound away from hitting 50 pounds lost. Holy shit…1 more pound. This is where it started to get away from me. Just a tad.

That morning I climbed onto my new BFF, aka the elliptical trainer, confident that I could hold my own for a respectable 25 minutes…and I did. I went about the rest of my day with a saucy little spring in my step. I was no longer Sit-On-The-Couch-And-Feel-Guilty Dianne…I was becoming Badass-Who-Works-Out Dianne. And I liked it.

When I woke up Sunday morning, I piddled around a bit but I was eager to see my BFF again. What a change from Monday, right? It wasn’t too long before I tucked my ear buds in and was ready to go. The hippo was gone. I wasn’t gracefully gliding away like the 120 pound beauties I used to see at the gym, but I was pumping away with new found confidence. It felt really good.

As I went about the rest of my day, I kept thinking about the fact that I’d lost 49 pounds. One more pound to go to my first major goal. I was proud of myself – and that’s extraordinary for me. I’m used to telling myself I can’t…I won’t…I shouldn’t. I’ve got 20 years of negativity under my belt…so what happens when I suddenly start to feel a little confidence? A little positivity? A little moxy?

I think I’m Rocky Balboa.

rocky3

Suddenly I wasn’t content to bask in the glory of my 25 minutes on the elliptical. Nooooo. I wanted to push the envelope. Feel the burn. Poke the angry badger. Well, I’m not too sure if that last one is an actual saying…but you get the drift. I wanted more of this feeling-good-about-myself stuff. I decided to do another 25 minutes on the elliptical. Hell YEAH!!!!

After finishing some more housework, I updated the status on my Facebook fan page to let everyone know I was going for it…and I climbed onto the elliptical and started up. And y’all cheered me on…just like the screaming fans that chased Rocky down that street (except we’re all much more attractive and would never be seen in public in crappy gray sweats or pleather pants).

I finished my second round of 25 minutes, although honestly I spent the last 10 minutes of it wondering what the hell I thought I was doing. I was sweating in places I didn’t know I had. And muscles…they hurt. At least I think that’s what they were. I haven’t used them in a very long time. Do humans have muscles in their asses? Because I just thought I had two lumps of memory foam with a crack down the middle, but wow…even my ass muscles hurt when I was done.

I posted my victory on Facebook which, in this scenario, is the virtual equivalent of Rocky thrusting his fists up in the air as the city of Philadelphia cheered around him. Screw that piddly first 25 minutes I did that morning…now I’d really accomplished something, right?

I half-collapsed onto Hot Mess Hubby’s chair (with him in it) for a few minutes. He gave me a reassuring hug, chuckled, and said in an I-told-you-so tone “Yeah, I thought you were crazy…”

He was right. He speaks from experience. Because when I’m super motivated to do anything, I instantly turn into Clark Griswold from National Lampoon’s Vacation movies.

clark

You know Clark. He overdoes everything…and so do I. By the time Downton Abbey started, I was waddling around the house like a 90 year old rodeo queen. Didn’t sleep too well either. Every time I rolled over or…took a frigg’in breath…my muscles screamed in pain. And the next morning? Yeah, I couldn’t put on my pants. That’s probably not a good sign.

So…lesson learned. I promise to remember that I’m more Clark Griswold than Rocky Balboa (and that’s really okay because Rocky couldn’t enunciate for shit and I can’t hang with talking like I’ve got a sock in my mouth). Plus when it all comes down to it, I’d rather be guilty of a little too much enthusiasm.

I declared Monday a rest day. Enthusiastically. And I enjoyed every minute of it.

Oh and I lost 3 pounds during my experiment. I also eventually got into my pants.

Tonight’s goal is 30 minutes. I’ve got this…and, hopefully sometime this week, I’ll be able to tell you that I’ve lost my first 50 pounds.

Have you ever overdone it? Don’t leave me hanging out on a limb here…share your story and make me smile.

Biofreeze Pain Relieving Roll On, 3-Ounce (Pack of 3)


Sunbeam 732-500 King Size Heating Pad with UltraHeatTechnology

Magic Numbers

There are numbers everywhere.

Thirteen. The age I was when I went on my first diet because a dance teacher said I was fat. (I wasn’t.)

Ten. The number of weeks since my gastric sleeve surgery.

Three-eighty-three. The most I’ve ever weighed.

But the number I want to talk about today is 45.

As of today, I’ve lost 45 pounds…and it’s significant because I have gained and lost these same 45 pounds twice in the last two years. I would push and struggle and cry and use every ounce of my energy to lose it and for some reason I’d run out of steam around the 45 pound mark. Months of eating boring food, working out my 383 pound body until I got stress fractures in my feet, and guilt tripping myself for being so fat in the first place would finally take its toll…and I would limp to the couch and call for pizza. Or grab a candy bar. Or curl up on the couch with a pint of mint chip and watch “The Biggest Loser” until I cried.

Those of you who’ve been fans of my blog for a while know how hard I’ve tried in the past. The ups, the downs, and the conflict I felt as I finally considered gastric sleeve surgery. It hasn’t been an easy road – but the day I decided to have surgery, I knew one thing for sure: failure would no longer come so easily. (Failure is possible, by the way…but that’s a blog for another day.)

I remember the nurses at the hospital smiling at me during my pre-op appointment and asking brightly “Are you excited?”

No, I said to myself. I’m about to have major surgery. I’m going to go through a lot of pain. My life is about to change in many ways – some of which I’m sure I can’t even imagine. No. I wasn’t excited. I was scared. But it was what I knew I needed to do for myself.

Afterwards, many friends asked the same thing as I started to lose weight. Are you excited? No, I still wasn’t – because I was losing the same damn 45 pounds I’d already lost and gained twice in two years. In a way, I felt hugely ungrateful to be not very excited after giving myself such an amazing tool in my battle with my food demons – but you can’t control your feelings…only what you do about them. And so I decided to focus my attention on learning how to live my life as a healthy person.

I’m grateful for every pound I’ve lost, but it’s all felt a bit like an episode of déjà vu that wouldn’t end. Until today.

Victorious
Victorious

(And yes…that is the Gandalf stick from The Wet Fart from Hell post in the background…)

I’ve finally wiped the slate clean. Sure, I still have a lot more weight to lose…but these first 45 pounds were the worst. They hung over me like a dark cloud, reminding me of my failure. And they’re gone. They’re finally gone.

I feel free. I feel blissfully and happily free from years of guilt I heaped on myself because I couldn’t get a handle on my food demons.

Okay one more number: Five.

Five more pounds until I’ve lost fifty. That’s territory I haven’t seen in twelve years. Now I feel excited…and a little bit bad ass.

What’s your magic number?

 

 


Rachael Ray Hard Anodized II Nonstick Dishwasher Safe 11-Inch Deep Square Grill Pan, Orange


Organic Cocoa Butter – Unrefined – 16 Oz.

A Rainbow of Possibilities

I haven’t really used my closet in years. It’s mostly full of clothes that are too small for me. Some outfits are just too cute to give up…and, of course, there’s the guilt that I’m so good at heaping on myself. When I’d get too fat for something, I’d just push it to the back of the closet and pretend it wasn’t there…telling myself that I’d be able to wear it again next week…next month…next year. Then I’d heap impossible expectations on my shoulders, set myself up for failure, and I’d be curled up on the couch in my stretchy pants with a pint of mint chip by Friday. That was my cycle for years…and my stuffed-to-the-gills closet is proof. Now that I’m through the looking glass and on the other side of things, my closet isn’t the downer it once was.

A rainbow of sizes and possibilities
A rainbow of sizes and possibilities

I’ve worn the same five size 32 outfits to work for a long time. Too long. I chose the tops not necessarily for their style or color, but because they covered the absolute nightmare that is my hips. The tops, along with all the black pants I wear, have seen better days. I wear them, I wash them, and I hang them just inside the closet where I can get at them easily. That way, I don’t have to step inside and look at all the cuter stuff that I haven’t been able to wear in such a long time.

Until recently.

I think I shared with you a week or two ago that I dropped a size. I was walking to my desk at work and realized that I kept playing with handfuls of fabric on my pants…and I thought to myself “I wonder…did I drop a size?” I quick-stepped it back to the ladies room, dropped my pants and pulled the tag out so that I could read it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d thought I was wearing a pair of my size 32 pants, but as it turned out these were size 30. And they were pretty big.

I stopped at a plus sized store on my way home and headed straight for a rack of pants. I didn’t give a crap what they looked like, it was the size I was after. I had to know, peeps. I had to know. Just for the hell of it, I grabbed a couple cute tops as I waddle-sprinted toward the back of the store. I was in a dressing room with a pair of size 28’s quicker than the old me would have mowed through an order of super size fries.

And guess what?

They fit!!!
They fit!!!

They were a little snug-ish to get on, but they fit. The tops I tried on were still too clingy in the middle for me to be able to wear…yet. I still grabbed one that I really liked, having complete faith that I’ll be able to wear it soon enough. For a brief moment, I considered putting it all back on the rack and walking out of the store – but I knew there were no size 28 pants waiting for me in my closet. So I decided right then and there that I’ll buy myself a new outfit every time I drop a size.

As I made my way up to the register, the two women who worked there were chatting behind the counter. One was gulping down a huge burger and fries…and she looked over at her friend and half groaned, half laughed as she said “This is my second damn dinner.” The other woman giggled and shook her head as she replied “Get it together, girl.”

The young woman scarfing down the burger was pale, sweaty, and fairly unhappy looking. Her hair was tousled about – not in a sexy, come hither way but in a I’m so fat I’m uncomfortable and I hate myself way. Her skin was dull and sallow…and the light behind her eyes said “I give up…I don’t care.” And I felt it all. Right in my heart. In that moment, she was a defeated spirit.

I’ve been where she was so many times. I understand. I get it. And when I saw her eating away her stressful day, my heart wasn’t filled with judgment or disgust or shame for her…it was filled with compassion.

I don’t know how many days I spent feeling like she probably did that day, but I’m unbelievably grateful that I finally had the balls to do what I needed to do for myself. There was a moment for me when something just clicked and I thought to myself “How many times are you going to lose the same 45 pounds over and over again before you realize what you’re doing isn’t working?” In that moment, I realized that I needed to put my pride aside and grab hold of the opportunity that was right in front of me. That was the moment when I embraced hope and possibility.

Change

That moment is what I want for all my struggling, overweight brothers and sisters out there. It doesn’t matter how it happens, but it will happen. If you haven’t had your moment…you will. Something will click and change will begin to happen. And whether you take control of your food demons by natural or surgical means, you’ll be okay with the sacrifices you have to make and the hard work you have to do. And no matter how you decide to handle it, all that matters is that you do what works for you.

I’ve thought of that girl behind the register every day since – and every time she pops into my head, I send positive vibes out into the universe for her. I pray for her. I hope for her. I want her to have her moment…because I understand all too well the mental beat down she was going to give herself later because she ate all that food.

We’re all at different stages of this journey. Here I was doing the happy dance in the dressing room and rejoicing at dropping a size, and just a few feet away one of my sisters in the Battle of the Butt was grieving and tired and eating away her stress. I know from experience that there is nothing I could have said or done for her that would bring her out of it – even if she and I were the best of friends. So I did the thing I knew I could do: I sent good thoughts to her…I prayed for strength and healing and hope for her…and I was kind to her.

Before my surgery there were days when I would roll out of bed, throw my hair up in a clip, do a shoddy job with my make up, put on clothes that may not even match, and schlep off to work. I barely looked good enough to run to Target on Saturday morning…I certainly didn’t look very professional for work. But I didn’t care. My spirit was defeated by more than 200 pounds of crap I’d heaped on myself. So that girl behind the register? I get her. I was her.

Now? I bought my one celebratory size 28 outfit…but what’s just as exciting is that I’m starting to care about what I look like again. I don’t enjoy looking in the mirror much more than before, but I don’t shy away from it. I care about how I look before I leave the house. I take time with my hair and make-up…not because it’s expected of me but because I enjoy doing it. For me. I think about my outfits before I put them on – and, this is kind of a big deal, I’m even matching my earrings and the occasional necklace with my outfit. Holy crap…who is this woman?

This is the me who’s learning to embrace all the possibilities that lay before me. It’s an amazing and wonderful experience and I want it for all my butt battling brothers and sisters…including that girl behind the register. Someday I know she’s going to open her closet and see her own rainbow of possibilities.

Have you had your moment? Have you crossed paths with a stranger you could really relate to? Share your story here…you never know who might really need to hear about your experience.


Lovely Vintage Jewelry Crystal Butterfly Hairpins Hair stick- for hair clip Beauty Tools


Closet Complete Ultra Thin No Slip Velvet Suit Hangers, Black, Set of 50