Fill No. 4 (A really long post.)

Holy moly, chickadees. This fill has been an experience.

A tiny bit of background: my surgeon used to be a private practice. Shortly after having my surgery, he joined a large, university-based group. So now, a lot of things are done "centrally" through the group, like making appointments, etc. Last week, he moved his office to a different building in the hospital/surgery center/medical building complex that they've been in. Previously, the office was in a section of the complex that was similar to a strip mall type set-up, where each doctor's office had it's own outside door and was it's own individual space. Now, they've moved into one of the medical buildings, so you have to walk into the big building and then find the "suite" for your individual doctor.

So on Saturday, I arranged for MFN to watch The Kid and I went to the new building to get my fill. My appointment was at 1:30 and I showed up at 1:20. I walk up to the building doors and...they're locked. I knock, nothing. I do that whole hands covering the sides of your face as you creepily peer into the building thing. Nobody. I notice that there's another set of doors directly across the atrium on the back side of the building - maybe those are unlocked? So I get back in my car, drive around the building to the back side, park, get out, go up to the doors, and...locked. WTF? My next thought is to call the office, so that's what I do. Only, remember how I mentioned that as a part of this new group everything is more centralized? Yep, I get an automated system saying that the group's normal business hours are Monday through Friday, blah blah blah, thank you, good bye.

Again I say, WTF?

Seriously, what do you do in that situation? I know the office is on the second floor, so it's not like I can go all peeping Tom in the windows to try and find somebody. I can't get in the doors, and I can't call. What the hell?

Very luckily, as I found out later, the receptionist had been taking two other women back to their appointments and heard me knocking on the door (Even though she couldn't see me because they were up on the second floor of the open atrium. She could hear me, but couldn't see me) so she came down to let me in. I only had to wait about five minutes. As opposed to the two other women who had just been taken back, who had been waiting and knocking outside for more than an hour, with everyone inside completely oblivious to the fact that the doors were locked. The receptionist and my nurse apparently just thought that those two ladies didn't show up for their fill appointments, and the consensus was that the doors must have automatically locked on a timer because other people were able to get in earlier in the day.

I finished all my paperwork and paid my $75, then sat down to wait for my appointment. At this point, it was already 1:45 - 15 minutes past my original appointment time, and had we been at the old location, I would have been in and out by now. But since the other two ladies waited outside for the entire duration of their appointment times, I now had to wait for both of them to have their fills before it could even be my turn. I finally went back at 2:20, almost an hour past my original appointment time.

My fill was with a different nurse - not the one I prefer to go to. But to be honest, that preference is really based off of "inside tips" from other people who heavily suggested I not let her do my fills. I, personally, didn't have any problem with her on Saturday, so maybe I won't be so selective in the future unless I start to see things that worry me.

I told her about what I've been eating and how my weight isn't going anywhere. She told me that according to their records, I had lost 8 pounds since my last visit in February. Not sure where they're getting those numbers from, because my records show that I had only lost 2.6 pounds in that time. I weighed in at 245.2 fully clothed on her scale.

We settled on 1.0 cc, which was the maximum I was willing to get. She said that since I'm getting up there (I'm now at 10.4 {probably really 10.5cc) in my 14cc band) I would probably start getting 0.5cc or 0.2cc fills after this one. And that's FINE BY ME. Oh, and if you're Lap Band Gal's friend on FB, you'll remember some recent conversation about a photo she posted of a recent fill where her surgeon didn't wear gloves to administer it. My nurse didn't wear gloves for my fill on Saturday, either. And I can't remember them wearing gloves any other time. Do yours wear them? Are you grossed out/worried that some don't? I'm not, but now wondering if I should be. LOL.

The fill itself was painless - nothing like last time. She found the port in one stick and was in and out in less than a second. Sah-weet!

However, afterward, this fill has been ridiculous. As I've come to discover, for me, my fills are SUPER tight for the first 2-3 days, then they tend to relax. Well, I think I'm getting close to my maximum comfort zone, because the first two days with this fill have been seriously RED ZONE for me. Saturday, I couldn't even keep down water. Sunday, for lunch, I made it through about 5 spoonfulls of chicken noodle soup and then had to stop. Finally, by Sunday night things were relaxing a little bit and I made it through some protein - a cookout at my Dad & Bonus Mom's house where I had about 1/3 of a hot dog, no bun, in TIIIIIIIIINY bites, a couple bites of hamburger patty with ketchup, no bun, and a few bites of baked beans. Other than eventually having to PB up a bunch of slime, the food never came back.

I felt HORRID yesterday. Dehydrated and exhausted from no calories or protein. Obviously, that's not the way you're supposed to feel with the band. That's obviously RED ZONE behavior. And I'm considering going in for a slight unfill if things don't loosen up today or tomorrow. Like I said, I can tell that things are relaxing a bit because I was able to eat some protein yesterday, and I had a protein shake this morning just fine. We'll see how lunch and dinner go today and then I will make a decision.

I kind of feel like you have to find your red zone in order to find the green zone, you know? Like you have to hit a point where you can say, "WHOA. Too much. That's my limit." so that you can then back it up a tiny bit into the green. I'm not saying you should do crazy fill amounts to try to get red, but that hitting the red, while uncomfortable and unpleasant, is actually pretty helpful in terms of gauging where you're at in the process. I think being red during my initial fill phase tells me that once things settle down, I'll be pretty close to green. Of course, if I'm not able to eat any real food at lunch or dinner today, I'll be going back in to take it down a notch. But for now, we'll see how it goes.

There is ONE thing to say about being in the red: it's conducive to weight loss. I weighed in at 239.8 this morning. Obviously not the optimal, sustainable, or healthy way to go about weight loss with the band, but I'm not gonna lie: seeing the 230s this morning was kind of awesome. I'm sure it will bounce back up a bit once I'm able to eat again, but fleetingly, I'll take it.

Mish Mash

Randompants post ahead. You've been warned.

1) The scale is being nice to me right now. Let's hope it sticks around for Wed-nes-day Weigh-In time. I'm pretty sure it's mostly because I've been drinking TONS of ice cold water while at work. Like, TONS. Did you know that drinking very cold things helps you burn more calories? Your body has to work harder to regulate your internal temperature when you do, thus, calorie burn! I don't know exactly how many more calories it burns, but I can totally attest to the temperature regulation thing. I have been FREEZING at work since I've been drinking all this ice water. And like I said, the scale likes me right this very second, so I'm gonna go with it.

2) Easter weekend was weird, but in a good-ish way. For literally the first time EVER, we didn't spend the holiday rushing between families and worried about whose feeling were getting hurt by us not being there. We spent the weekend with just the three of us, doing whatever we wanted to do. It was so nice. We gave The Kid his basket Sunday morning, then enjoyed the breakfast bar at Frisch's Big Boy, then had an in-home egg hunt. Nice and relaxed, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

3) That's a lie. Most of the weekend was nice and relaxed. Except for the part where we decided that since the whole family was home and we had no plans, this would be the weekend we finally broke The Kid of his pacifier ("passer" or "nuk nuk" to him) habit. A long time ago, we restricted his passer use to what we call "night night and naps", so he knew that unless he was sleeping in his crib, he couldn't have them. And I've known for a while that we need to kick the habit completely at some point, but I haven't wanted to do it.

Well, since we put in our 60 day notice to our apartment complex and will be moving in with my in-laws soon, and I knew that every weekend after this would be me and The Kid alone while The Hubs is working on getting the in-laws house ready, and I wanted to have the habit kicked before we moved, this was the time. (Nice run-on sentence, Anna.) So I cut small holes in his nuk nuks and left them out for him to find. He realized they were "broken" and I asked him if he wanted to throw them away. (That kid LOVES throwing things away.) So all was well and good until it was actually time to take a nap or go to bed.

OH the pity. "Mama? A new nuk nuk? Pwwwweeeeeeeeeease?!" It's a good thing we had thrown them all in the trash or I would have totally given in several times this weekend. It has been a challenge, to say the least, but he has taken naps without his passer both days, and fell asleep (after a long bout of crying) both nights. It helps that we gave him Buzz Lightyear and Woody action figures instead. LOL

4) It's Opening Day!!!

Born and raised a Cincinnati girl, today is the second best day of the year. I didn't realize until recently, though, that other cities with major baseball teams don't go crazy for opening day like we do. We love our Redlegs. Did you know that we're the oldest baseball team in America? And did you know that because of that, we ALWAYS get to play at home on opening day? It's a BFD. (Big effing Deal, if you're not down with the language. LOL)

It is really depressing to me to not be a "true" Cincinnatian anymore. Even though it will always be my home town and I will always love that city, I (very unfortunately) keep moving farther and farther north to be with my husband. I'm from Cincinnati, he's from a town north of Dayton, so when we moved in together before we got married, we chose a town in the middle. Now that we're moving in with his parents, I'm going all the way up to his hometown. And for people there, Dayton is the closest "city", so they consider themselves Daytonians. I don't want to be a Daytonian. I am a Cincinnatian. Ugh.

Anyhoo, Go Reds!

NSV and Being a Preppy

Happy Monday morning to you!

Hope you all had a great weekend. Mine was spent sans husband and child (lovely!) running errands, cleaning house, and working on school stuff. The school situation still looks bleak, but I'm trying to stay get positive about it.

No matter how dreary and depressing the school situation might be, I've got an NSV to tell you about that definitely put me in a good mood!

MFN (My Friend Natalie, the lovely lady who did the Shamrock Shuffle with me) has a birthday two days after mine. We were even born the same year (1982 represent!), so I'm officially two days older than her. So naturally, having a BFF whose birthday is so close, we usually celebrate together - usually by NOT running 5ks - and get each other small gifts.

MFN is going to school right now, so she works two part time jobs. One of those jobs is at The Loft outlet. And I can honestly tell you that I've never set foot in The Loft in all my life. Because I have always known that it was futile. Nothing there is going to fit me, so why put myself through the drama? But at our post-what-we-thought-was-a-5k-but-later-found-out-was-a-4.5k breakfast, Miss Natalie handed me a shopping bag from the store.

I thought she was just re-using a bag and never expected the gifts inside to actually be from The Loft. But they were. Two super cute shirts. And Natalie is super supportive of the whole Lap Band thing, while also being the friendly kind of realistic, so she told me that the shirts were something to work toward. I had no expectations of being able to fit into something from a "regular" store in a "regular" size, so I thanked her for the motivation and went about my day.

But yesterday, I was trying on a bunch of other clothes that I already owned, and figured I'd give it a "what the hell". Do you see what I see?

Blurry pic, and I'm looking slightly zombie-ish around the eyes. Makeup, Anna! 

Your eyes are not deceiving you.

HO-LY HELL. This is seriously mind blowing to me. I cannot believe that shirt actually fits ME. Now, the universe making sure I don't get too cocky about anything, made sure that the other XL shirt MFN gave me was a completely different story not fit for public consumption. But this shirt. It fits. A size XL from a regularly-sized-people-shop-here store. NUTSO.

In other news, and on the topic of being a preppy:

Remember my recent post about being lazy? A lot of you had great suggestions about preparation being key to actually getting shit done. So I took advantage of a recent grocery shopping trip and the fact that The Hubs and The Kid were gone, and got my prep on.

Thanks, LoganMan, for donating your snack cups to the cause. 

I bought some lunch meat and portioned it out into 3 ounce portions. I used chicken and turkey. I also bought a quarter watermelon and sliced it up into chunks. Wow, that was a juicy job, let me tell you! Easy enough, but definitely messy. It then got packaged into containers of about 4 ounces each. Then I packed two tablespoons-ish of my current obsession, Dean's French Onion Dip, into small containers to go with pretzels that I keep in a drawer at my desk. Combine these with an EAS protein shake for breakfast and some yogurt for a snack, and I am ready to go! 

Lookie here, all organized and shit. 

And then, I took it all one step further, and pre-bagged each day's lunch. I packed for four days of lunches, figuring I'll give myself Friday as a day to eat out as a treat.

Middle row, pretty Kroger bags all ready to go! 

Oh, and if you're wondering what those brown things are sticking out of the beer bottles at the top left, The BFF made The Hubs Beer Reindeer for Christmas. Those are pipe cleaner antlers. LMAO. 

Anyway, it felt great to be so prepared and ready to go. It was awesome this morning to just be able to pick up a bag and walk out the door. The only downside is that all that prep came at a cost to my school work - I had to choose which thing I wanted to spend time on, and prepping and packing four days of lunches (including cutting up a watermelon and peeling/slicing four baby cucumbers for The Kid) isn't really a quick process. I'm happy to have done it, though. Can't wait for lunch today! 

Awesome Anniversary

A wee bit o' background for ya - October 21/22, 2006: The Hubs and I had been dating for less than 4 months and decided to take an impromptu day trip to Bowling Green, Kentucky to tour the Corvette manufacturing plant.

Ah, six years younger and 50 pounds skinnier...

Since we were already half-way to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, we decided on a whim to just head down for the night and come back the next evening. We had very little money, no hotel reservations, and the time of our lives. 

Smoky Mountain Pit Stop

Fast forward two years, and you're at October 20th, 2008 - two days after our wedding and the first day of our week-long honeymoon in...Gatlinburg, Tennessee. 

(Pretend you see pictures here of us, just two years older and a few pounds heavier.) 

Fast forward four more years, and you're at October 20th, 2012 - the third time The Hubs and I have been to Gatlinburg together, and also, somewhat coincidentally, the third time we have been to Gatlinburg on that EXACT SAME weekend in October. I now consider it our lucky weekend. The weather is always fantastic, and things just kind of seem to fall in place for us there and then. 

Yep, it's hanging off the mountain.

We arrived at our chalet around 3:30 pm on Saturday. See that gorgeous 2013 Chevy Equinox? It's not ours, but we wish it was. The Hubs and I have had our hearts set on one for a while now, and he jumped through a thousand hoops to find one for us to rent for the trip as a surprise for me. One Thousand Awesome Husband Points for him! 

We settled into the chalet and changed clothes for dinner/sightseeing around town. Remember how I had said I had been waiting for a steak from The Park Grill for months? It TOTALLY didn't disappoint. I had a combo 5 oz. filet mignon and pineapple moonshine grilled chicken - mouth orgasms all around.

After dinner we did a little sightseeing around Gatlinburg. Bought some fudge, which is a requirement down there, and also visited a moonshine distillery. They were offering free tastings of their 12 flavors of moonshine, so The Hubs and I gathered all the courage we could muster and saddled up to the bar.

They started - STARTED - with 100 proof White Lightning moonshine...

HOLY HELL.

Seriously, The Hubs and I thought we were gonna die, y'all. After a too short recovery period, the next sample was White Lightning marinated cherries. Yum, cherries! This can't be bad!  

Um, not so much. We are total losers! I couldn't get my 1/2 cherry down, and The Hubs suffered through his. From there, we decided that we are not cool enough to be moonshine junkies, and gave up on the tasting. But, I have to say, I am dorkily proud of the fact that we both even TRIED the White Lightning. I bought us a magnet and Christmas ornament to commemorate our bravery. LOL

Sunday, we had a train excursion from Bryson City, North Carolina, which is near Cherokee. To get to Cherokee, you have to drive through (up, down, around, into, etc.) the Smoky Mountains. Great views, hell on the inner ears.

How do you like his $3 sunglasses we bought during an emergency WalMart run the night before? LOL

The train excursion was through the Great Smoky Mountain Railroad, and was a 4.5 hour trip through the mountains. The Conductor walked our engine to the front of our train and we boarded our swanky first class car.

I think I can, I think I can.

First Class, y'all. It's how we roll. 

Our first class ticket came with lunch and desert aboard the train, a free souvenir tumbler with free pop/tea/coffee for each of us (which you can see in the above picture), and a free embroidered tote bag each. We rode about 1.5 hours out and had a layover at the Nantahala Outdoor Center, where we watched amazing kayakers make the river their bitch. 

No kayakers here, but you'll just have to trust me. They. Were. Awesome.

Then we took the train back to Bryson City and did a little shopping there. I got The BFF some Pumpkin Butter and we got ourselves some Sweet Potato Butter. So delish! 

After leaving Bryson City, we went back to Cherokee to the Harrah's Casino on the Reservation. No pictures of this, but I totally won $70 on a 30 cent bet on penny slots. Boo-yah! I ended the night up $40, Jack ended down $15. Not too shabby for us novice gamblers! Then we drove back through the mountains (much more scary in the pitch black night) and ended the night with wine (me), beer (him), and cigars (both) in the hot tub on the chalet deck. 

Monday, we partook in a Gatlinburg tradition - the Sky Lift. 

One cable and one tiny little yellow bar protecting you from sure death.

We did some shopping and looking around, and then we hit up another Gatlinburg tradition for us - going to the Thomas Kinkade Gallery. Ever since that very first trip to Gatlinburg, we make it a point to go into the Gallery and drool over the expensive beautiful-ness. Back in 2006, we literally fought over two paintings that we couldn't have afforded in a million years - Evening Majesty (which is now sold out unless you want a gigantic one for $2200, btw), and Mountain Paradise. 

The Hubs pulled me aside in one of the gallery rooms and told me, very sweetly, that he knows how badly we've both wanted a Kinkade, and that he doesn't do enough nice things for me (not true!), and that he wanted to surprise me and purchase which ever one I wanted as an anniversary gift. 

I was floored. My husband is frugal. My husband handles the finances and gets upset when I eat out for lunch. My husband wears underwear until you cant figure out which hole the legs go into because he doesn't "need" to spend the money on new ones. (TMI? Sorry 'bout that.) But the point is - here was my sweet, sweet man, telling me that he doesn't do enough for me, and offering to buy me any incredibly expensive painting I wanted (within our pre-determined budget, of course.) Seriously? Tears. At the art gallery. In public. But I don't care. 

We had an awesome dealer working with us, who was able to help us figure out a way to stay within our budget and accomplish two things: (1) Get the Mountain Paradise Kinkade that we have been wanting for so long (24x36, and framed), and (2) Get another painting that we had seen in the gallery this trip and fallen madly in love with. This one is by an 18-year-old, self-taught artist named Abraham J. Hunter, and it's GORGEOUS. And all mine in an 18x27, also framed. 

The Hunter piece will be arriving this week, but we have to wait until December to get our Kinkade. The piece has to come from the warehouse, which takes 3-4 weeks, but our gallery is hosting a highlighting event with a Kinkade Master Highlighter (a painter who was taught by Thomas Kinkade himself, who highlights certain areas of the paintings with an additional layer of paint, adding value to the piece) in early December, so they are going to keep our painting there so that it can get highlighted, then ship it to us. I can't wait!  

After dropping a redonkulous amount of money on artwork (how "adult" of us! LOL), we went to a few more places and then headed out of Dodge. We finally arrived home a little after midnight this morning and promptly passed out. All in all, my trip was fabulous. I love my husband, I love that city, and I love my life. :)

Cautious Optimism

I think I've mentioned before that I am generally a very optimistic person. I have bouts of negativity, sometimes suffer with depression, and can even sometimes be (gasp!) dramatic. But on the whole, I really do see people and life as generally good.

In the post I linked to above, I had been going through a dark time and got really bad news. The Hubs and I had finally, FINALLY decided to move forward with my Lap Band surgery, only to find out that financing was not an option for us. (I'm pretty sure the computer laughed at me when I hit submit on the application...)

After that, I really did consider Lap Band an un-option. Insurance doesn't cover it, we don't have that kind of money in our savings account, and a personal loan from our banks was not a credible possibility. I just kind of gave up and wallowed in self pity for a while. Of course, my weight LOVES it when I wallow in self pity, because that usually means wallowing in comfort food, carbs, sweets, and anything else that temporarily can't let me down. And thus, I'm hovering between 269-271 right now. Re-donk-u-lous.

However, other, good things started happening, too. We paid off both of our cars. We paid down/off all of our credit cards. We started putting money in savings. And really, it wasn't that either of us got awesomely paying jobs or had any rich relatives die or anything. We just changed our priorities and paid more attention. (Hmm...is there a lesson in that somewhere?)

All this is to say that a few weeks ago, sort of on a whim, I cringed as I hit that submit button again. And then I gasped in shock when I saw that we were approved for almost the entire amount of the cost of Lap Band surgery.

Of course, the journey is just now starting and there are many things that still have to be done before I can officially say that I have a surgery date. But my consultation with the bariatric nurse, surgeon and psych evaluation is scheduled for September 27th. The ball is rolling, people. And that makes me very optimistic!

Old Beginnings and New Endings

The post below was my very first Breaking Up With Burgers post, written on December 10, 2008. My how things haven't changed...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I will go in this way, and find my own way out..."


Here I am. 26 years old, married for 52 whole days, 260.6 pounds (really?! When did that happen?!), newly-diagnosed Type 2 diabetic, gallbladderless, and scared shitless that I'm not going to get to spend the 60 years that was mutually agreed on with my husband.


I have been told that if I want to start a family, I have no choice but to lose weight, get my diabetes under control, and (oh, that dreaded word...) change. Not an easy change, you know, like changing the sheets on the bed, although I could stand to be better at that, too. No. Life-altering, get-off-your-lazy-ass-'cuz-that's-how-you-got-this-way, hardest-work-you'll-ever-do kind of change.


Shit.


I suck at that.


(Obviously, since I'm 26 and have never stepped on a scale to see a smaller weight than the year before. NEVER.)


There are about a gazillion different reasons and/or excuses I could tell you as to why I find myself in this place. My parents had a nasty divorce when I was younger, and food was comfort. I didn't have money or parental support to get into sports as a kid. There is a history of obesity in my family. My gallbladder was removed and I don't process fat as well. Whatever you want to hear, I've got it for you. What it boils down to, though, is this:


1. I am in a love affair with bad food. Greasy, cheesy, fried, barbecue-sauced goodness. Ugh, I'm drooling like Pavlov's dog just thinking about it. It is my companion when everything else sucks. How do you let go of something that makes you happy because you know it's bad for you?


2. I am lazy. Jack (my "almost too handsome in a 'What in the hell are you doing with me?' sort of way" husband) and I come home from work - where I sit on my ass, mind you, and he stands on his feet all day - eat, and crash. I love my Dancing With the Stars, Private Practice, Boston Legal, Amazing Race, Two and a Half Men, etc. Reality junkie? Right here. I guess I'd rather be a voyeur into someone else's reality than deal with my own. Okay, you psychiatrists out there: have your field day. We have lot's to talk about.


3. I am scared. All I've ever done with weight loss is fail. Hell, let's broaden our view, shall we? All I've ever done with life is fail. I graduated from high school, went to work, made a decent attempt at a communication degree, and then f*ed that up. I'm horrible with money. I slack at my job. I feel entitled to the 'creature comforts' of life that we really can't afford. In general: I don't have it all together. I don't have anything together, and I'm absolutely petrified that I will never be able to change my ways. That's a lot of stuff to do, man, and I already told you: I'm lazy! I'm scared to tell people that I have goals because I don't want to deal with the consequences of not meeting them. It's so much easier to beat myself up for not doing something, than to see the disapproval of my friends and family when they realize that I've not accomplished yet another goal. I'm the fucking Chicken Little of weight loss.


I love my husband, my friends, and my family. I want a dog, a house, and a nicer car. But I also want to be able to enjoy those things. I want to sit on my husband's lap. I want to do more than just go out to eat with my amazing friends. I want to impress my family. I want to give a dog the home and exercise he deserves. I want the energy to do things around the house. And I want to be able to bend over while sitting in that nicer car, and be able to grab something off the floor.

While we're on the subject, let's talk about some other random things that I want to be able to do: Sit comfortably in an airplane. Buy cute clothes. Wear a swimsuit. Use regularly sized towels in the shower. See my belly button (it's been hidden for years!). Feel sexy, even though my husband swears I am. Have something better to go on than just my 'big boobs'. Sleep better at night. And the list goes on and on.


So here's the thing: I have to do it. It took 26 years, but my body is finally giving me the choice: (wo)man up, or die miserably. If morbid obesity, gallstones, and diabetes don't tell me something, then I don't know what will. So here, in this crazy big world, I'm sending it out there. Hold me accountable. I dare you.


My goal is to weigh under 200 pounds by my first anniversary: October 18th, 2009.


61 pounds. 213,500 calories burned, that's all. Piece of cake...


Shit. Okay, so I've got a long way to go.


But my new life starts now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It breaks my heart to read this now - two and a half years later.  I still have diabetes. I'm still (if not even MORE so) morbidly obese. I weigh more now than I did when I wrote the original post. I'm still lazy. I'm still horrible at getting/keeping "it" all together. I didn't even take the risk of having a high risk pregnancy seriously enough to change my ways.

I am exceptionally successful at failure.

It's times like these when an introspective person, such as myself, might read these words and wonder why she even bothers writing again. Why bother trying again? Why bother risking the possibility that I'll start things up and fail miserably? Again. Why set myself up to fail? AGAIN.

Why? Because struggling with weight isn't a one and done sort of thing. I am willing to bet my right arm (which I really like, by the way,) that there isn't one person in the world who has struggled with a weight issue once and only once in his or her life. It's not the nature of the beast for it to work that way. Being healthy is a continual journey, one that you aren't even finished with after you've fought the battle of the bulge and the war on weight.  When I do succeed, I'm still going to have to think about it and fight tooth and tummy every day.

So, yes, I have failed. Yes, I didn't do what I said I was going to do. Yes, there's the chance that this time will be no different. But.

But, but, but.

There's a wee  bit of me, a tiny little sliver, that just once wants to fail at failing. And as long as that spark is still there, the journey isn't over.

There's still a chance for this old, warn out beginning to have a new and different ending.

Coming Attractions

It's almost March, which means some good stuff is coming my way...

February 28th: Family birthday party. As if I'd let you forget, my birthday is March 9th. This party is for my cousin who turned 16 on Valentine's Day, The Hubs, who turned 31 on February 1st, and me.

March 7th: Oscar Night Gala. Remember how I posted about my volunteer day with People Working Cooperatively? Every year, they host one of the 50 officially sanctioned Oscar Night parties across the country. My company bought a table at the Gala and MFN and I (plus 8 other work peeps) are getting all dressed up in our fanciest-schmanciest dresses and partake in free booze and gourmet food. Plus we get to watch the Oscars on the big screen and get an official Oscars program.

March 9th: My 28th birthday. Woot.

March 10th: Bridal Show at The BFF's reception location.

March 11th: MFN's birthday. Have I ever mentioned that I'm exactly 2 days older than her?

March 13th: MFN and I are celebrating our birthdays with a little dinner and game night with our peeps. Should be a good time.

I'm excited!

October 18, 2009

So, I should have written this post yesterday, but I was a little preoccupied with my husband and my anniversary and all...

Better late than never, right? So without further ado:

The Hubs was incredibly sweet and sent 18 amazing roses to me at work on Friday. As most women will agree, there's little better in this world than getting flowers at work. It's pretty much the best - and even better when they're absolutely gorgeous, as these were:

It just so happens that we got married on Sweetest Day, which I realize is not a "real" holiday, and isn't even celebrated throughout the whole country. Alas, it is celebrated here in the mid-west, and we now get to take full advantage of the fact that our anniversary will fall on or near Sweetest Day every year.

How did we take advantage of it this year? The Ohio Renaissance Festival's Romance Weekend. One, we love RenFest, and two, what's better than a little medieval romance on your anniversary?

We started out the day with our favorite show: Guido Crescendo (left) and Dirk Perfect (right) as The Swordsmen:

We walked around and meandered through the tons and tons of artisan shops until it was time for the big event: a medieval mass vow renewal. We met at the chapel and renewed our vows in a renaissance ceremony with about 2o other couples.

During our wedding, I somehow managed to hold myself together and made it through the whole ceremony while only shedding a couple dainty tears. For some reason, I couldn't hold it together in front of 20 other couples at the Renaissance Festival! What's up with that?! While I was saying my vows, the tears just started flowing and wouldn't stop. It was very touching.

Here we are with the pastor who performed the ceremony:

And here we are with our ceremonial certificate:

After the vow renewal, we were both starting to get hungry, and you know what that means...

A giant turkey leg for The Hubs! (I personally think it's grosser than gross, but whatever floats his boat...)

For me, heaven is:

Funnel Cake! (Although, this one was waaaaaay too crispy.)

After the good eats, it was time for one of the crowd favorites:

The Joust! This was our side's knight, Sir Marcus. He kind of sucked, as the other guy beat him in all the games of skill and kicked his butt in the actual joust. Oh well, the horses were beautiful, and - bonus - they're rescue horses! Yay!

We had both decided that we would get each other's anniversary presents at the festival, and The Hubs picked out this amazing, hand-made walking stick. As a bonus, the artisan hand-carved his initials in it for us while we waited!

The gift I picked was this beautiful ceramic ring/jewelry bowl:
I love it!

One of my favorite parts of the Renaissance Festival is the fact that they always have amazing artisans there performing their crafts. We watched this glassblower make a beautiful mug:

And then we couldn't resist bringing two home for ourselves:

I'm not sure if you can tell from the picture, but they are HUGE! They probably hold about 20 ounces, and they probably weigh more than a pound a piece! Incredibly heavy and beautiful. (And ex-pen-SIVE, at $40 each, but we couldn't resist!)

There were so many beautiful bowls and ornaments and vases in his shop, we could have easily spent another $200 there, but instead, we managed to just keep it to those mugs and a $20 ornament:

We walked around some more and decided on a whim to stop and watch the belly dancers. OH. MY. GOD. if I could do that, my husband would be a very happy man. I have video that I hope to post sometime soon, but for now, you'll just have to take these pictures and use your imagination...

First, she stole someone's beer and did an entire routine with it on her head:

And then, she moved on to something a little more *ahem* dangerous...

They were amazing, and made a chilly day awfully H-O-T.

When we got home, The Hubs took his pre-work nap, and it wasn't until he had been at work for a half an hour that we remembered that we hadn't done any of the other anniversary things we were supposed to do yesterday.

Oh well, that means two days of anniversary! LOL

So, tonight when we got home, The Hubs made dinner, and we had some dessert...

Two layers of saran wrap and three layers of aluminum foil later, and voila! Year old cake! Yummm...
We were both a wee bit apprehensive to actually try it, but once we did, we were pleasantly surprised at how well it held up. It was a little soggy from the strawberry filling, but tasted and smelled like fresh, yummy cake. Thanks to The BFF one year later for making our delish wedding cake!

After the cake, it was time for us to reaffirm our wedding vows, which we read from a copy of our wedding ceremony. Then it was time for the part I was most excited about...

I'm not sure if I ever told you about our unity ceremony. Our mothers each brought up a piece of ribbon and our pastor held it while we "tied the knot". We made the ribbons long enough so that we could tie a new knot every year on our anniversary...
And that, my dear friends, was my very first wedding anniversary. It was a great day, and I'm definitely looking forward to many more.

"Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you..."

a.k.a. "The World's Longest Post". If you manage to make it all the way to the end of this crazy train I call a blog post, more power, kudos, my sincerest thanks and deepest appologies to you.

("Ironic" by Alanis Morissette).

So I started this blog all gung-ho, lost 12 pounds, and fizzled. I started again, and fizzled before even getting off the ground. Rinse and repeat. Rinse. and. repeat. And then I started my crazy 30 pounds in 11 weeks challenge, lasted not even two weeks, and what do you know? Fizzle fizzle bo bizzle. (I'm in a unique mood today, can you tell?)

Last week, I was just about to write a post about how I'm guessing I'm just not ready to really get into it. How I don't really have the motivation or drive. How I'm just not really caring right now, because, unfortunately, all of those things were (and pretty much are) 100% true.

Prep for whining here... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of attempting when I'm not really whole-heartedly in it, and then failing miserably. I'm annoyed and just generally over it. And with an attitude like that, I'm pretty sure failure is eminent. Resistance is futile. Danger, Will Robinson. Which ever entertainment quote you want to put there, it pretty much means I ain't losin' no weight. I ain't getting any healthier. I don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no babies.

Which is quite the delightful segue into why I'm writing this post now, instead of last week. Prep for what might possibly be TMI. I was due for my yearly with my ob/gyn, and since The Hubs and I are getting up there in age (ah, 27, I never would have guessed you'd make me feel elderly, but alas) and need to start looking into family planning, I made an appointment for us to meet. I found a new doc closer to my job, and we met her on Wednesday.

Prep for shock. I have diabetes. (Okay, maybe if you've paid attention to my rambling at all over the past 8 months, that's not a shock). Diabetes makes me a high-risk pregnant woman if I were to conceive. Like, seriously, high-risk. Not "oh, well, we'll just keep an eye on it,". More like guaranteed bed rest for months, tons of testing and monitoring, possible insulin shots, blood sugar checks at least five times a day, doctor's visits at least three times a week toward the end of the pregnancy. That kind of high-risk. Now, doesn't that sound fun? Yeah, we thought so too.

But, sensing the panic mode that The Hubs and I had painted all over our faces, she throws in this little piece of optimism: if I can maintain my A1c at 5.5 for at least two months before we conceive, I'm no longer considered a high-risk pregnancy, and my pregnancy will be just like any other pregnancy except for the fact that I'm pretty much guaranteed gestational diabetes, which she believes can easily be controlled with oral medications.

Btw, for you non-diabetics, an A1c is a blood test that basically tells you what your average blood glucose levels have been over the past 3 months. Magically. Don't ask me how it does it, because my knowledge ends there. Someone without diabetes usually has an A1c at around 5%, and someone with diabetes that is out of control might be between 10 and 25%. From what I understand, if you're at 25%, you're pretty much dead.

So basically, she's telling me what my regular doctor has been telling me for a year. I need to reverse my diabetes. How do you reverse diabetes and lower your A1c? Oh, it's simple really. Diet and exercise. Lose weight. Or, re-visit and attempt to break (again. again. again. AGAIN.) that crazy cycle of "Gung-Ho, Fizzle Fizzle Bo Bizzle". Great! Fabulous! I'll get right on that. Ugh.

So we came home from that appointment and I basically laid down in bed and cried for an hour and a half. Cried and cried and cried. She had pretty much told me that all of the hopes and dreams of not only myself, but my husband, all rested on my (completely incapable) shoulders. I have to lose weight. I have to control my blood sugar. I have to do it. And if I don't? WE can't have kids. WE can't have kids because I'm fat and lazy. No pressure or anything. I'm already feeling incapable, unmotivated, ready to retreat into fatness for a little while longer, and then this happens.

(And, yes, technically, we could get pregnant. We could have kids, but the chances of them having birth defects practically quadruples, not to mention the danger to myself and the drama of being a high-risk pregnancy. I just don't think I could live with myself knowing that it was all my fat and lazy fault if our kid was messed up and my husband had to go through all that. So, no. We can't have kids unless I get my A1c down).

Weight loss: FAIL. Kids: FAIL. Good wife: FAIL. Man, I'm really sucking these days!

So where's the light at the end of the tunnel? Where's the silver lining? Where's the Eternal Optimist that you all know and love? She's here, muffled and squirming under about 50 pounds of extra weight, excited about the prospect of being pregnant and having a baby, but just a little too jaded to go straight into "Gung-ho" again. The task before me is monumentally more real and challenging knowing what is relying upon my success. I'm sure most of you are just dying to send me that comment that says "You can do it! You have a reason now! You have motivation!" and you might be right. Hopefully this is the catalyst for me finally doing the thing that I've never been able to do.

But past failures have planted that seed of doubt, and current moods are watering it daily. I wish I were able to just forget about that little, nagging voice saying "You have failed. You always fail. You will fail. Every single time before, look what you did! This is no different". But I can't. It's there, and I'm unconvinced at the moment that I can beat it down into submission. Even for a baby.

This is not to say that I'm not going to try. Hell yes, I'm going to try. I basically have 9 months before we would like to be trying for a baby, which means about 6 months to get my A1c to an acceptable level and maintain it long enough to eliminate the extra worries of the diabetic, high-risk pregnancy. My A1c in December of 2008 was 6.7. My A1c on Friday was 6.4. It is moving in the right direction, but there is still a long way to go.

It's a long, hard road out of diabetic hell, and I just have to figure out how to get my wheels turning.

Quirks

I definitely have my fair share (plus a couple other people's fair shares) of quirks. If you're a "real life" friend, I'm sure you've been exposed to these at one point or another. If you're The BFF, and you lived with me, you're in line for sainthood.

No, seriously, be expecting a call from the Pope soon. I already talked to him, and he said he was cool with the fact that you're not Catholic. He said they're trying to open things up to "the masses".

Anyhoo. I know that I've got some strong opinions on some strange stuff, and those that love me, know me, and deal with it. Bless their little pea-picking hearts.

Iyam what Iyam, as Popeye would say, so I thought I might share with you some of the things that make me what Iyam. Enjoy my neurotic-ness.

Oh, and don't judge. You're neurotic too, I promise.


~ I refuse to buy a car that has the gas tank on the passenger side, on sheer principle. It's inefficient engineering and it shows that the car maker does not take the convenience of its' consumers into consideration. Soapbox down.

~ I cannot stand the sight or touch of popcicle sticks or unfinished wood of any kind. It literally causes a physiological reaction where my lips get dry and I start to break down in chills. Just thinking about it while writing this has made my lips dry up and tingle. Seriously.

~ I hate the sound of fingers scratching the fabric on the roof of my car. I recently not-so-gently reminded The Hubs of this when he haphazardly grabbed the Oh Shit handle and it sent me into a tizzy.

~ I can't stand it when The Hubs takes my car somewhere without me. The next time I drive it, it's on a different city's radio stations, he leaves the odometer on one of the trip meters instead of the main number, and he knocks off my seat belt hook, which usually lands under the seat never to be seen again. Every. Single. Time.

~ Background: At work we have one communal women's restroom with stalls, and one separate single restroom with a locking door. When ever I use the single room, I check the lock at least twice before doing my business. I will literally walk away from it, and back to it to double- and triple-check that it's locked. It's the one place that I really see my OCD come into play. Oh, and emails and blog posts.

~ I re-read emails and blog posts multiple times before I send them, and then even more afterward. It's a VERY obsessive compulsive behavior, and I don't know why I do it.

~ I love the southern tradition of eating salted peanuts in Classic Coke. I grew up with it, but people 'round these parts seem to think it weird. Huh.

~ I only like Andes mints after Olive Garden, and York peppermint patties after Skyline. They will sit around my house for months afterward if I have extra.

~ Except on very, very rare occasions, I refuse to see a movie that has a reputation for making people cry. The Notebook? I've heard it's awesome, but I've also heard that people cry like a baby at the end. Sorry 'bout your luck, Nicholas Sparks. Million Dollar Baby? Wouldn't see it even though everyone else was. (However, I've seen movies that I didn't know would make me cry, and were totally worth it. i.e. Pay It Forward, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, etc.)

Okay, I think I've shared enough of my neuroses for now. Do you still love me?

Well that's Sh*tty.

If you don't know Jack Sh*t, you're missing out. I recently discovered his blog, and instantly connected with his sarcasm and wit. The thing I really enjoy about him is that he is all about bringing laughter and fun into this horrible journey we're all taking together.

And then, the bastard had to go and tag me.

So, without further ado, The Rules:
1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention & add one more question of your own.

2. Tag eight other people.

What is your current obsession? Bd's Mongolian Grill
What are you wearing today? Black pants, black and red shirt, black flats.
What’s for dinner? The Hubs is in school, so probably Corn Pops and skim milk.
What’s the last thing you bought? A cinnamon raisin bagel.
What are you listening to right now? HP6 (Half-Blood Prince) audiobook so that I can finish before the movie comes out on 7/15.
If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? Back to bed. One hour isn't long enough to fully enjoy anywhere else.
Which language do you want to learn? More/better French.
What do you love most about where you currently live? It is in close proximity to almost everything I need.
What is your favorite colour? I like sets of colors, not one in particular.
What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe? This nightshirt that I've had for literally as long as I can remember. It's gigantic, and when I wore it as a child, it must have swallowed me whole. It says "Jingle My Bells". And it has holes so big that I might as well not be wearing a night shirt at all. I had to make a deal with The Hubs that once one hole gets big enough for my arm to go through, I'll throw it away. It's damn close.
Describe your personal style? Meh.
If you had $300 now, what would you spend it on? Tickets to the New Kids concert. Yep, I'm that much of a nerd. I have no shame. Unless The Hubs got to the money first - then it would probably go to some totally unworthy cause, like bills or something. Bah!
What are you going to do after this? What I'm getting paid to be doing right now.
Your favorite smell? The Hubs' cologne: Perry Ellis "18"
Do you collect anything? Willow Tree figurines. And hugs...I'm a fan of hugs.
What makes you follow a blog? Good grammar and spelling + wit = a 'followable' blog.
Who do you admire? Lots of people. The Hubs for one, because he is just a really stand up fella.
What’s one thing you dream of doing? Getting pregnant and having a baby.
What is your biggest regret? Tie: that I didn't take advantage of high school, and that I didn't go to college straight away.
What is your favorite thing to do on a rainy day? Sleep and read. Well...not at the same time, obviously.
Do you have a tattoo? I have 4. I plan on getting at least 1 more.
What are your favorite books? The DaVinci Code, The Harry Potters, The "For Dummies" series.
Are you left handed, right handed, ambidextrous, or a little of both? Right handed.
Are you a big fan of memes? Not hugely.
What's your biggest fear? I'm scared of falling off things or down things. Stairs are especially rough if my hands are full.

And now, it's your turn:
Sammy Sue @ Samantha's Saga
Natalie and/or Jason @ Monkeyface and Baldy
Dee @ My Journey
Katherine @ Katherine's Daily Adventures
Jen @ JenisZen
Nicole @ The Road to a Healthier Life
Joy @ Getting Healthy and Pregnant
Lyndsey @ I Could Do A Lot in 15 Minutes

Go forth and conquer!

"You make me feel like a 'natural' woman..."

("Natural Woman" by Aretha Franklin.)

Friday I embarked on my first ever camping trip. You may recall that I was a little apprehensive, since I've never been, and The Hubs is an Eagle Scout. The six of us (The BFF/BF, Tonja & Jason, and The Hubs and I) had a spot at a campground in the Hocking Hills area of Ohio.

(This is just our stuff. Two nights of camping and two people...I had no idea how much stuff we would need!)

The website for the campground had a map showing all the campsites and their locations as compared to the campground's Family Fun Center which was supposedly equipt with mini golf, go karts, and most importantly, shower houses. According to the map, our campsite was easily within walking distance of this area, so the three women in our group were very excited at the prospect of camping with nearby indoor plumbing.

Unfortunately, the map they provided was not a topographic map, and while they may have been a quarter mile apart distance-wise, they didn't mention that we would have to walk up a busy road, then up an 80 degree treacherous gravel incline, and across a field to get to the showers and toilets. Needless to say, that wasn't going to happen.

The boys obviously didn't care about this, because well...they're boys. They don't have a problem peeing anywhere they like. The BFF is a self-admitted germaphobe, and was having difficulty deciding where she wanted to 'go', Tonja 'manned' up and took the squatting route, and I braved these:

See them, way back there, behind Jason? My two best friends, the disgusting Porta Potties. The one on the left had hand sanitizer, but no toilet paper (which was fine because I brought my own) but it also had some dried mud, or dirt, or... whatever... on the seat. The one on the right had tp, but no sanitizer, and had a resident wasp. I chose to utilize the one on the right for the weekend. Damn skippy, I'd rather face a wasp than something questionable on the seat. Not that I actually sat anyway, but whatever. The tag inside said they had been "serviced" on the15th, but I'm pretty sure "servicing" them means just checking to see if they still exist.

Here's our campsite, right on the Hocking River:

We were fortunate enough to have this section all to ourselves, even though there were three or four other campsites in this area. Every time a car would drive by, we would all watch to see if it was stopping, and luckily, they never did. Saturday night, however, a couple came and set up camp in the site closest to the Porta Potties. (You can see their orange tent in the Porta Potty picture). I bet they weren't too thrilled with their spot, especially when I had the overwhelming urge to pee at 2:30 Sunday morning. Oh well, sorry about your luck. When you gotta go, you gotta go.

The Hubs and the boys went looking for firewood for us, and The Hubs came back and said, "Geez, someone must have been afraid of vampires or something - look at this stake!" We all know my love of puns, so I couldn't resist making him take pictures with various "stakes" through the heart for the rest of the trip.

You've got the classic wooden stake:

The modern tent stake:

And the weapon choice of Foodies everywhere, the dinner steak:

Why does this man put up with my shenanigans? I would have divorced me by now, for sure.

Saturday, we had signed up for a canoe/kayak trip. I guess I knew in my head that it was an 8 mile trip, but I didn't realize just exactly how long 8 miles really is. If I had thought about that before hand, I might have paddled a little bit harder on the first half.

Here's the crew at a little docking spot right after the launch.

Here's Tonja and Jason floating down the river together:
It was the perfect day for the trip - not too hot, sunny, and lots of big shade trees on the banks.

Tonja takes advantage of the sun:

And, like I said, when you gotta go, you gotta go. I guess what they say about women going to the bathroom in groups is true even when camping:

The river trip was really fun until we got to the part with the Ohio University drunks screaming and drinking their Nati Light all over the river. We paddled as fast as we could to get through them, but I swear, there were probably 20-30 separate canoes filled to the brim with drunken college kids. Kinda ruined the peaceful float down the river that we had been enjoying up until that point. Overall, it was a really good time, and the long-ass 8 miles was really worth the money we paid.

Saturday night, we got back to camp and had dinner. We were just about to hit the s'mores when The BFF's BF got a call from his mom freaking out because we were about to get some bad weather our way. I had been doing okay so far with the whole nature/dirt/bugs/sleeping outside thing, but hearing the word "tornado" scared the bejezus out of me. We all started packing as much stuff into the cars as we could in case we had to get out in a hurry. I've never packed so fast in my life, dude. In the end, I had everything in the car but the tent, air mattress/cot and sleeping bags. I was ready to go.

I told The Hubs that if it started to rain, we were getting in that car. Sure enough, it started to rain, so I folded up my chair (with the Diet Coke still in the armrest, which The Hubs was thrilled about, let me tell you) and high tailed it to the car. Once there, I cried and cried and cried. So I'm a wuss, sue me. The Hubs got really frustrated with me freaking out, but my whole point was that he's a freaking Eagle Scout. He's done this a thousand times, and in weather a thousand times worse. This was the very first time I had ever slept outside. We didn't even do backyard camping when I was a kid. Of course I was freaked out!

We called his mom, and she checked weather.com for us. She told us that it didn't look too bad, just some rain and stuff that should be over by midnight. We ended up unpacking the things we needed for the night and staying there. The Hubs and I went to bed a little after midnight, and that's when the downpour started. It was supposed to be over by then! It only took about twenty minutes for The Hubs to start feeling drops on his sleeping bag. Our brand new tent had a leaky seam, right across the section of the tent where his body was. There wasn't really any room for him to move around, so that awesome Eagle Scout of a man spent the night with water dripping on his body. And then I woke up at 2:30 am with the uncontrollable need to pee, so I woke him up and he walked with me to the Porta Potties and checked the inside for bugs for me.

Bless that man. I certainly do love him.

We got up Sunday morning, packed the tents up, and decided to hit up Cracker Barrel for lunch. The Hubs always plays the little wooden game at the table, and this time, he conquered it on his first try!

Overall, I'd say my first camping trip was 85% fun. I will definitely do it again, I'd just like to wait for a weekend with no chance of rain. Cooking hotdogs and s'mores over the campfire was definitely one of the fun parts, as was the canoe trip. Once we get a new tent, I'll be excited to go again.