Drumroll, Please . . . .

As of today, March 21, 8:00 a.m. CST, I have lost a total of ONE HUNDRED pounds! In seven months. Forty pounds pre-op, sixty post-op. I'm extremely excited and extremely terrified. Excited because, well, that's a lot of weight. Terrified because I don't want to become complacent (i.e. cocky, because that's what happened last time I lost a bunch of weight). I'm still about 25 pounds from my goal, although I keep changing it. Statistics say that most bariatric bypass patients lose the majority of their weight in the first six months, but may continue to lose for up to eighteen months. So I may change my goal again!

One drawback (if you can call it that) is that my clothes keep falling off. I bought a bunch of stuff from LL Bean a couple months ago and now it's almost all too big. And I've only worn it a couple of times! I feel like a baby, only in reverse. I need to find a resale shop and FAST!

This journey has been really amazing. I was watching a show on Discovery Health about a woman who was having gastric bypass and I realized that even though it's only been four months, the whole surgery and recovery is kind of a blur to me. I kind of remember the hard times and days when I questioned the wisdom of my decision, but those moments have been so few and far between that it's easy to forget them. I've settled into an easy routine that doesn't seem foreign or intrusive or sacrificial and that's such a blessing - a HUGE blessing.

Hallelujah!

Raptor Wings

Last week I went to a seminar sponsored by the Bariatric Center of Kansas City. It's the same seminar I went to last year in May when I was ready to start this wild journey. This time, however, I went as a former patient, a Q&A subject, so to speak.

There were six of us, all women, who had had some version of bariatric surgery. There were a lot of questions about appearance, specifically excess skin. Some of the other women referred to their "bat wings." Well, I might have had bat wings when I was 14. I now have raptor wings. Or better yet, pterodactyl wings! It's pretty sad. I think if I waved them enough I could become airborne. That's just one area where I've got more skin than I need. Next time someone says "Gimme some skin" I'm gonna whip out my scalpel.

I call my behind "elephant ass." Ron just laughs at me, mainly because I think he's secretly agreeing with me and doesn't want to have to lie by saying I'm being ridiculous. But I say it's no laughing matter. I may have mentioned that ten years go I lost 80 or so pounds. I don't remember the elephant ass back then. Maybe it's that my skin has lost a lot of elasticity in those years or maybe it's because I've lost 90 pounds in about seven months (it took about a year to lose the previous 80). Whatever the cause, it's humbling. I know I could get a multitude of tucks to minimize the issue but I'm not sure I want to do that. Besides, I look fine when I have clothes on. And, luckily, I don't have a profession that requires me to bare my bod.

You should ALL be VERY thankful for that.

Pomp & Circumstance

I saw my bariatric psychologist last week and he informed me that I have officially graduated from his care. I'm guessing that's a good thing. He said very complimentary things about the approach I took regarding my weight loss surgery journey, which I appreciated.

I've lost weight before. Lots of it. But this time I have an ace in the hole. Or rather an egg in my abdomen. I also have resolve and fierce determination. I've worked hard (and will continue to put in the requisite energy and effort) to get this weight off - harder than I've ever worked. I've still got about 30-35 lbs I want to lose and I know it will be a battle. I know there will be plateaus. I know I'll get discouraged. But I also know I have success on my side. Eighty-seven pounds of it. Five pant sizes smaller. Thirteen and a half inches off my bust, waist and hips in two months. The ability to nestle in Ron's arms lying on the couch. And other things that would be considered TMI if I shared them . . .

So I've been kicked out of the nest to fend for myself. A year ago I think I would have fallen straight to the ground, flat on my back, gasping for air. Now . . . I think I'll soar.

Stay tuned . . . I'll keep you posted.

A Hard Couple of Days

Ugh. Life's not rosy right now. This week has been a battle of the colon and its reluctance to function properly. I won't bore (or disgust) you with the details. Suffice it to say it's not been pleasant.

And tonight I realized that eating is just not fun/enjoyable anymore. Things that I expect are going to taste wonderful just don't. Yesterday I wanted to go to Bob Evans for breakfast because I wanted something different. I don't know what I was thinking because I can really only eat scrambled eggs. It tasted like rubber. The highlight of the meal was the one bite (seriously, it was just a nibble) of the sourdough toast that came with the meal.

Here's a list of the things that tasted really good to me this week:
- my Eggbeater omelet I have EVERY morning for breakfast
- the homemade soup we made yesterday
- apples

I think I could be satisfied eating my omelet in the morning and an apple for dinner. But then I wouldn't get in my blasted 60-70 grams of protein per day. Oh, the rules!

One of the side effects of the surgery is that your taste buds get out of whack. I'm hoping that reverses itself in time. Until then . . . I think I'm going to be cranky.

The Heartbreak of Dining Out

Update: As of January 17, I've lost 80 pounds. Try visualizing 80 pounds of hamburger. Yea. It's kind of overwhelming. And between December and January I lost seven inches total from my bust, waist and hips. Not bad for the holidays, eh?

So . . . dining out. It's been a tricky proposition. I get very distracted by all the noise, smells, color and I don't think about chewing or pacing myself. My worst experience was at Dragon Inn. They have really great food with nice, lean pieces of meat, which makes it easy to pick out. I had just swallowed a delicious piece of chicken and I knew I was in trouble. I could feel it go down. Usually I chew everything to a near baby food consistency and it just slides right down.

Once you swallow a chunk that's too big you have to wait for it to pass into your pouch and sometimes it's hard to know when that's happened. So I took another bite. Big mistake. The food just kind of stacks up and it's really quite painful. I know I get an awful look on my face because Tyler was just staring at me with a stricken look on his face. I sat there a couple of minutes, trying to beat down the nausea. Finally I thought, "Maybe a sip of water will help loosen it up." Biggest mistake yet. I really thought I was going to lose it. I wanted so bad to ask where the bathroom was, but I was afraid to open my mouth. Seriously. It was that bad.

The whole episode lasted maybe ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. As soon as I got home I sat down and ate some of my to-go box and was fine. Now when I go out, I cut my two to three ounces of meat into tiny pieces before I even take one bite and that's helped immensely. And I've found that most restaurants have good options. I'm still pretty much on an all protein diet, with a few veggies and an apple once in awhile. Applebee's has a wonderful garlic chicken breast that will feed me for at least two meals (to reheat it I put about a quarter inch of chicken broth in a small pan, cover and steam it on medium for about seven minutes - really tender).

So, while dining out can be a challenge it can also be a really welcome change to cottage cheese and deli turkey. For real.

Surviving the Holidays

I know, I know. This post should have been pre-holiday, but since I'd not had to "survive" the holidays as a bariatric patient, this will have to do. Perhaps I can re-post it next year in November. If I remember. Which isn't likely.

It wasn't too awfully hard. We had eight people for dinner and it was fun cooking for all of them. We had a delicious top round roast (marinated with night before with olive oil, rosemary, garlic, Greek seasoning and salt and seared the next morning before hopping into the crock pot) with potatoes and carrots, that versatile cole slaw salad with ramen noodles, mashed potatoes, melt-in-your mouth rolls by Sister Shubert, fruit salad, apple pie and pecan pie. I also made my famous strawberry soup and monkey bread for breakfast, along with Eggbeater omelets and grilled potatoes.

Here's what I ate:
Breakfast: one small bite of a yummy concoction Ron found in Midwest Living (toasted English muffin topped with organic peanut butter, very unorganic bacon, bananas and a sprinkle of cinnamon - sounds odd, but it's really tasty), one bite of a grilled potato (about 1/16 of a baby yukon gold), one fingerful of the strawberry soup (couldn't even be considered a sip), one small bite of monkey bread and an Eggbeater omelet with green onions, diced ham and mozzarella cheese.

Lunch: about two ounces of roast beef with gravy, one bite of mashed potatoes and gravy, three baby carrots, two forkfuls of the cole slaw salad, one bite of a roll with a teeny bit of butter on it and two slivers of apple with a 1/2 inch piece of crust.

It was all REALLY yummy and even those tiny bites of the "bad" stuff were enough to satisfy me. I gave most of the bad stuff away that day and threw what was left over away. We kept the roast and veggies and have been having wonderful meals of stew. The gravy was made with beef broth and flour so it's pretty lo-cal (I use a gravy separator to get rid of all the fat).

I have to admit that adding those few carbs got me to thinking what other ways I could sneak some into my meals, but I've taken the pledge to stay as carb-free as I can until it's legal (month five, which will be April). It's not easy, but it helps that I don't really get hungry at all. In between meal hunger pains would usually lead me to seek out carbs, but since that doesn't happen, it's not as bad as it could be.

Next time on The Egg and Eye . . . The Heartbreak of Dining Out

Going, Going . . . Not So Much

I'm a bit anxious about discussing this next subject, but this blog is supposed to be all about the challenges and rewards of gastric bypass surgery. So . . .

It's . . . constipation. It's caused by not eating enough fiber. Why don't I eat enough fiber? Because I can't. Most fiber is hard to digest and my baby stomach can't handle it. Eventually I'll be able to eat more fruits and veggies, but right now my diet is pretty much solid protein. And because I'm only eating about a quarter cup of food per meal there's just not a lot of stuff going in, which directly impacts how much comes out.

Not having had much trouble with this condition in the past obviously did not prepare me for this side effect at all. Holy, holy moley. The first few weeks were fine. Then I noticed it had been a couple of days since my colon had seen any action. So I brought out the Phillips Milk of Magnesia (PMOM). It is one of the oddest tasting remedies I've ever taken. It's not a taste or consistency issue. It's the slight aftertaste of tuna fish that kind of baffles me.

After my tuna-y dose at bedtime I awoke the next day with great anticipation. I'll spare you all the gory details but I felt like I was giving birth to a watermelon. Multiple false alarms. Lots of effort, little or no results. Constant pressure. Finally . . . early the next day - success! I felt like doing a little Macarena-esque dance in celebration of my accomplishment, but instead I just told everyone in my family. They were so pleased.

Since then, it's been hit and miss. Not nearly the horrible discomfort associated with the first time, but nonetheless one more thing I must monitor. It's extremely embarrassing how excited I get when I do my thing without the aid of PMOM. I'm like a three-year old: "Look what I did! Look what I did!" Ron has been very supportive and puts gold stars on my chart on the refrigerator. Ok, we really don't have a chart, but it might be a good idea seeing how my memory ain't what it used to be. Maybe I should get M&M's like Jon and Kate's sextuplets. Alas! No chocolate allowed. I guess gold stars it shall be.