Because, Who Doesn't Love Progress Pics?

The picture on the left is from August 2011. On the right, this past Sunday. Almost 40 pounds...NUTS.

Meet Tim Gunn...

Hey everyone! I made it through surgery, and have been resting at home for the past two days.

My weight on surgery day was 257.2, which was a loss of 6.6 pounds during my pre-op diet. Over all, I was down 12.8 pounds from my initial consultation weight on September 27th.

Here are some "official" pre-op photos. Nevermind the bathroom - we live in a tiny apartment that gets NO good natural light, so it was our only choice for the photo shoot.

Surgery day was quite an experience. I was scheduled for surgery at 1:00 pm, and we arrived at the hospital at 11 am just like they told us to. We waited in the lobby for about half an hour and then a nurse called me back . She gave me an awesome astronaut suit to put on - seriously, this was the coolest hospital gown I've ever seen. When I sat down, she hooked up a hose to it which blew in heated air to keep me warm.

Then she asked me a zillion questions and got down to business. She gave me a shot in my leg of something to help with anti-coagulation so I didn't develop blood clots, she gave me an anti-nausea pill, and placed an anti-nausea patch on my neck. She also checked my blood sugar, temperature, heart rate and blood pressure, and then attempted my IV. She tried in the back of my left hand first, but was unsuccessful, so she ended up having to do the IV on the inside of my left arm. O.U.C.H.

She was all done with me and the anesthesiologist came in to ask me a million more questions, and by this time it was 12:45. The nurse came back in and told me that my doctor was still performing an operation at the adjacent hospital and would probably be an hour late. Gee, just what I wanted to hear - let me sit here in my astronaut suit with an uncomfortable IV in my arm and just hang. Fun times!

Around 1:45, the nurse anesthetist came in and went through her whole schpeal, so I figured things were about to get moving. The last thing she said to me, though, was that the doctor still had another operation he needed to perform at the adjacent hospital and that it would probably be yet another hour. I was so not a happy camper at this point. I hadn't eaten or drank anything since the night before, and I didn't get a very good night's sleep because I stayed up until 2 am watching the presidential concession and acceptance speeches.

Anna was not happy.

Finally, at 2:56 pm (I remember looking at the computer to see what time it was) my surgeon came in and asked me if I was tired of waiting, to which I replied, "Um, yeah!" In hindsight, it probably would have been more prudent for me to be nicer to the guy who was about to cut me open and gut me, but I was grumpy and he was 2 hours late.

The good news was that once he got there, things moved fast as lightning. I walked myself back to the OR, laid down on the table and had like 5 or 6 different nurses doing stuff to me from every angle. I felt like I was in the Wash 'n Brush Up Company in the Merry Old Land of Oz! Within minutes, they had my arms out, my legs in the massage-y wrap-y thingies, and the anesthetist was saying, "Ok, here we go. Everything's going to be fine..." and I was out.

I woke up in recovery with a wonderful nurse named Martha, whom I remember having a whole conversation with regarding the fact that Logan loves to watch Martha Speaks. Human Martha had never heard of the show, so I had to explain to her that it was a cartoon dog who ate alphabet soup and could now talk. Human Martha wasn't too keen on my comparing her to a dog, but we got through that little bump in the road. I also remember some sort of conversation about Martha not wanting to see me naked, although I can't quite piece together how that came up or why. Must have had something to do with my awesome astronaut gown, though.

She wheeled me back to another recovery room where The Hubs was waiting, and I got some apple juice and put my clothes on, and headed home. We left the hospital at 5:45 pm.

I did not see the doctor after surgery, but The Hubs told me that he said everything went fine, and that they fixed my hiatal hernia, which was "larger than usual". Glad that's taken care of, but I was very surprised to see that it required an additional incision. For some reason, I thought he would be able to do that while he was already in there, but nope.

If you're squeamish, look away, because I'm about to show you a picture of my cottage cheese-y stomach and all five incisions...

Obviously, the one up top is the hiatal hernia fix, the one second from the left is my port, and the others are the instrument incisions. Right now, the only one that hurts is the port, and I can't feel the others at all. I have been taking my liquid narcotics just about every 4 hours, though, so that might be helping.

As far as food goes, I've been eating very little. I have felt hungry, though, which is surprising since so many people say you won't even want to think about eating after the surgery. I'm sticking to the all liquid diet, eating tomato soup, applesauce, pudding, and baby food. (The fruit baby foods are surprisingly not that bad!)

Oh, and the post title? You know how it's kind of a tradition in band land to name your band? I decided weeks ago that mine would be called Tim Gunn. One, because he's an awesome gay guy, and I love me some gay guys, and two, because his signature slogan is "Make it work!", and that's what I fully intend on doing with the help of this little guy!

I'm totally gonna make it work!

Thanks to you all for your thoughts and well wishes! I'm so excited to be on the band wagon! :)

"And I am telling you I'm not going, even though the rough times are showing."

("And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" by Jennifer Hudson).

This is the post that I have been dreading. I know I've needed to tell you all how my diet is going, and I just haven't wanted to. I wont lie to you, so that means I have to tell you that I've been failing, and that's just not something I've wanted to do. If I'm being perfectly honest, I've got to tell you that even though I've been busy, the bigger reason I haven't posted much lately is that I don't want to disappoint you all and tell you that I haven't been working out, eating right, or even attempting to meet any of my goals. And that's exactly what I used to do. That's exactly what got me to 260 pounds, that's exactly what I promised myself, and all of you, that I was not going to do this time. It really hurts to realize that I hadn't really changed. Well, I did change, but I guess it wasn't permanent. It hurts me most to know that some of you read this blog and find me inspiring, and I feel like I have absolutely failed you. I'm used to failing myself, but when it affects other people, that's just unacceptable to me.

I know exactly when it happened, too. It was the week I was supposed to start Week 4 of C25k, and I started this big project at work that had me moving a ton of stuff. Work was kicking my butt, and I was too lazy to make myself work at work, and work at home. It sent me on a downward spiral of laziness. I got out of the habit, and damn it's easy to get out of the habit. Why is this so hard to do? Why is it so easy to get out of the workout habit, and so freaking hard to get out of the laziness habit? I know I need to do it...it would improve so many areas of my life if I were less lazy. It would make my husband's life easier. My MIL would think more highly of me. My house would be a lot cleaner. I would quit feeling so paranoid at work. I would actually be able to say I accomplished things.

And it feels good to be able to say I accomplish things. I'm proud of the ten pounds I've lost so far. It feels great to know that my goal weight is only 50 pounds away now, instead of 60. I feel great when I'm so tired and sweaty after a treadmill 5k that I can barely stand up. I live in the daydreams that one day I'll feel comfortable in a swimsuit. I want these things. I really, really want to be healthy and to feel pretty in my own skin. I want it, but I sure as hell don't want to work for it. Therein lies the rub. Or, maybe Shakespeare will forgive me if I say, "Therein lies the lazy".

I'm disappointed in myself for failing. I'm disappointed in myself for making yet another attempt and not pulling through. I'm disappointed in myself for continuing to drag you along, saying, "This is it. This is the week that I'm going to get back on track. Do you believe me?", and you do. And then I become a liar - I turn myself into a liar. I hate liars.

And I don't blame you if you don't believe me right now when I say that this is it. Again. Is this it for the last time? I want to pull out my Eternal Optimist card and say "Hell yes!", but as eternally optimistic as I may be, I've still got a healthy dose of reality in my world. I'm human. I fail. I have failed, and I will fail. It's all about "Fall seven times, stand up eight". If I have to lose this weight ten pounds in five months at a time, then that's what I've got to do. It's not a race. It's not a competition. It's my life.

I feel like I'm two people - stick with me here - I've got the miserable, lazy, fat Mrs. B. who is just dying to be thin but doesn't want to do anything about it, and I've got the motivated, confident, active, healthy Mrs. B. who's just fighting like hell to get out from under her. The fat me has just plopped all 250 pounds of misery right on top of my skinny, healthy me, and she can't fight back. She's just stuck under there.

Here's the part where it may get too wishy-washy for you, but hear me out. Now, I'm trying to visualize my little, skinny me getting stronger and stronger, and my big, fat, miserable me shrinking away, until one day, healthy me crawls out from under her for good. It's not just food, though, that makes this whole thing hard. Laziness, family, bills, stress, time - all of this stuff just keeps feeding my Fat Me and squishing Skinny Me into the ground. It's a struggle, a fight. A battle between good and evil. Between instant gratification and wallowing in self-pity, and fighting for what's right. The stronger Skinny Me gets, the easier it will be for her to fight back against all those things that are pulling her down.

I know that "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going" is about a woman not wanting her man to leave, but listening to it lately has kind of become the story between the two me's. Skinny Me's not going to back down. Not going to give up. Skinny Me's not going anywhere. And Fat Me's gonna love Skinny Me enough to let her get stronger and do her thing.

"Tear down the mountains,

Yell scream and shout,

You can say what you want,

I'm not walking out.

Stop all the rivers,

Push, strike and kill,

I'm not gonna leave you,

There's no way I will.

You're gonna love me."


Get the fuck off my Skinny Me.

Part 1: The Early Years of Us (Continued)

(Labor Day fireworks one year after the proposal.)

(MFN's and my 26th birthday cake. Made by The BFF.)


(Cornhole game The Hubs and I made for my dad's birthday.)

(Where the infamous proposal happened. Yes, we had a wedding date before we had an engagement.)

("I Hate War" monument in Washington, DC.)

(The Wienermobile! How cool is that?!)

(A baby gorilla about to get in trouble by big daddy.)

(My most recent -and fourth- tattoo. As a tribute to my mamma.)

Pictures. Lots and lots of pictures! (Part 1: The Early Years of Us)

Just thought I'd share some of my favorites. These are all pictures from either before or during the time The Hubs and I were dating. (July, '06 - October '08)

(A pretty day on the way to see The Hubs race.)

(A park in Dayton, Ohio.)

(The Hubs getting ready to race.)

(Us at the track.)

(Halloween '06: Racecar Driver and Checkered Flag.)

(Gatlinburg trip exactly two years before our honeymoon.)

(Florida trip, December '07)

(Downtown Disney)

(The BFF at the Jimmy Buffett concert.)

(Candice at the Cincinnati Zoo.)

(Me and Harby aka The Hubs' best man.)

More in a minute!

"It starts with one thing, I don't know why..."

*editor's note: if you're looking for the before pictures, they aren't here. Seeing them staring at me was too depressing, so they've gone the way of all bad pictures. You can still enjoy the following post, though... :-)*

Allrighty-roo. Here we go! Let's start with the dirty facts, shall we?

Date: Monday, January 5, 2009
Weight: 257.8 (I'll go with that, even though it's about 3 pounds lighter than I think is true...)
Measurements:
Arm: 18"
Boobs: 51.75"
Belly: 50.5"
Hips: 53.5"
Thigh: 30"

The good news? Even though those numbers are absolutely horrific, they'll only get smaller from here! (That's the plan, anyway...)

And look, because I'm such a good blogger friend, I even gave you before photos. I must really want to lose weight, because under normal circumstances these photos would NEVER, and I repeat, NEVER make their way to the internet for all to peruse. The only reason you get to see them is that I'm finally confident enough that the "After" photos will justify the embarassment.

Here's the plan, kids: I'm going to weigh in every Monday. I'm going to post pictures and measurements on the first Monday of every month. I'm not going to bore you with what I like to call the "Clueless" experience. Did you ever see that movie? I'm not ashamed to tell you all that it was the first movie I ever owned on DVD. LOL. Anyway, at one point, Cher is explaining why she feels so fat..."I feel like such a heifer. I had two bowls of Special K, 3 pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, 5 peanut butter M&M's and like 3 pieces of licorice." I'm assuming you don't care to know the exact proportions of every single thing I eat. I'll let you know if something is working. I'll let you know if I slip up. (Let's hope that doesn't happen.) I'll let you know what's going on in my life - my new hubby, my messy apartment, and my never-ending quest to get those damn ducks in a row.

Here's my philosophy on this whole thing: I've never done this before. Sucessfully, anyway. Now I have no choice. I actually have to *shudder* work at this. That thought depresses me, but being fat depresses me more.

This morning I was driving to work, and my road companions were being especially idiotic. I was much more pissed than I normally am, and I know it was because I'm thinking "This is it. Today I'm officially on a diet, and I'm in a bad mood. I'm going to take it out on all of you." Then I decided that it's probably not the best idea to spend the next year in a rage on complete strangers because I'm finally having to take responsibility for 26 years of inaction. I choose to be in a good mood about this whole thing. From this point forward. (I may need your help remembering that, though!)

I also choose to take this one day at a time. One meal at a time. One hour at a time if I have to. If I think about the fact that if I lost 100 pounds, I would still be considered 'overweight', I would go crazy. My doctor told me that, if you can believe it. In a conversation about how I really need to lose weight to get control of my diabetes and health issues, he said, "You know, even if you could lose 100 pounds, you're still overweight." Talk about being supportive and inspirational! Anyway, my magic number is 2. Not 100. 2 pounds per week. That's all I'm focusing on. I know in my head that it will add up eventually. Every year I look back and say, "Wow...look what you could have done last year, if you had only tried!" Next year, I'm going to say, "Wow! Look what you did!"

You're starting at the beginning with me. That's totally not as exciting as finding me in 6 months and getting gratifying 'after' pictures, I know. But maybe, just maybe, if you stick with me through this whole process, we'll all come out a little bit better in the end.

Here we go, kids!