Those are the brakes you feel

I love the Internet. If you want to avoid something at all costs, the worst thing you can do is post about it for all your friends and family to see. In my last post, I was so confident that I would lose the weight. Downright cocky when I said, "I don't know. Do you think 120lb is too skinny? What about 140?" Blah, blah, blah..I'm going to be a skinny bitch...blah, blah, blah. I'm a freaking idiot and I should know better than to tempt Internet fate.

While I was being so Polly Anna, I neglected to report some of the more negative parts of having a lap band. I was filled on February 10th and almost immediately I knew something was different. I went from puking every other day or so to regularly puking twice a day. Then there was the heart burn and upset stomach. Last time I felt like that, I was in my third trimester with Zac. I felt awful, every single night. In the morning though, I'd feel better and get up and go to work. Unfortunately, with all the stomach pain and reflux, I stopped drinking liquids. God that sounds stupid. Let's see? I was puking regularly and restricting fluids.

Want to guess where I went on Tuesday?

If you guessed the ER, you would be correct. I woke up Tuesday morning with a massive, intense headache, cramps in my calves, and a very upset stomach. I tried eating. I puked. I laid on the couch and called my surgeon. Then I waited....and waited...no one called me back. My friend, Mr. Grinch, told me that I could go to University General (yes, that is the real name of the hospital, even if it sounds like a soap opera) instead of Methodist. I didn't know what to do. My surgeon is at Methodist, but I wasn't sure if their ER could help me. So I went to University General, which has the smallest ER in Houston, hands down.

I only waited 5 minutes to go back to a room. I was moderately-severely dehydrated. A doctor came in and removed 7.8 cc's from my band (which is all but .2cc's of what was in there). I asked if they could only take out part of the fluid, but they took out almost everything. Then they gave me a full IV bag of saline with a side car of anti-nausea medication. I felt so much better.

The next day, it was like I was on vacation from my stomach. I had Mexican food for lunch and Chinese food (Chinese food! Do you know how long it's been since I've had that without puking? I couldn't even Chinese food in CHINA without puking). I can't even publicly admit what I had for lunch today. I texted Mr. Grinch and asked him how jealous he was. I told him it was like food porn. If you can't eat it yourself, you might as well listen to someone else eat it. That was my theory at least. I don't think the Grinch appreciated it very much.

I went to my surgeon's office today and the doc was furious, both at UGH for taking what a year of fluid in my band ("They were covering their own asses. They didn't have your best interest in mind") and his own staff for not calling me back. He put in 6cc's of fluid, which for your reference, is about six times as much as he's ever put in at once. I could feel the band inflate. Literally. I could feel an object bisect my stomach. My stomach hurts so much now that my back is hurting. In other good news, my bp was so low that I was deemed still dehydrated. Awesome.

This would be the not-so-pleasant side of bariatric surgery.

50/50

This Sunday was supposed to be my Red Dress photo shoot, but my photographer asked to reschedule because of the rain and flooding the night before and a death in her family. I had been consciously dieting to make sure I hit the 50lb mark with my weight loss. Right now, I'm 8lbs away from my pre-baby weight, which is spectacular in my opinion. I'm starting to see definition in my legs and calves and really just now starting to feel differently about my body. I was so tuned out of it that it's taken me losing 50lbs to even feel like myself again.

 I asked my gastric surgeon what my ideal weight should be. He asked how tall I was and I dutifully told him I'm 5'4 (and a half, don't forget the half, it's important). He thought for a nanosecond and then said authoritatively: 120lbs. I would have laughed out loud, but he was digging around for the port under my skin with needle, so I tried not to move too much. Let me just put this into perspective. The last time I was that weight I'm pretty sure I was in the 8th grade. When I graduated high school, after dancing and doing gymnastics almost year-round, I was 160lbs. Even after bicycling for nine months all throughout Oxford and only eating food that I could carry home from the grocery store on my back and my handlebars, I weighed 155lbs. I wish I could find the photo of myself from that time. I looked skinny.

Now the doc wants me to weigh 120lbs?!? I asked him if we could think about the 140-145lb range and he said that might work. That would mean that I'm only halfway through my weight loss journey. It's taken me a year to get here, but I feel like my weight loss is accelerating. While the doc was poking around under my skin, he put another cc of saline into my band. That puts me up to 8cc's of fill. According to the all-knowing Wikipedia, bands can hold up to 12cc's of fluid. I think at that point, your upper stomach is either so stretched out that you can eat whatever you want or you are putting all your food into a blender and drinking it through a straw. A very small straw.

I know that I'll adjust to my current restriction, but wow, it's intense. I'm actually afraid to eat in front of anyone in a social situation because of how little I can actually eat. The best surprise came when I sat down when my new friend (I'll call him Mr. Grinch, which I mean as a compliment). I told him that I had lap band surgery and he said he did as well. Then we proceeded to take two hours to finish lunch! It was fantastic. I had never shared a meal with someone that had the same level of restriction that I had. I can't say enough how great it was! I knew exactly what was going on when he stopped talking, stopped eating, and just sat there. I was like, "Oh yeah. You're trying not to puke! Wait...do you need me to slide out of the booth? Are you sure? For real, I'll move."

So...the question is, for anyone that knows me or maybe jumps on a scale themselves from time to time, does 140 seem like a good goal for me? Too skinny or not skinny enough?

Even More About the Red Dress

I realized after re-reading my original post that it made it seem like I would be wearing Jenny's original dress. That is not so. You see, so many women have been inspired by the story of the traveling red dress that women from all over the world started sending them to other women who needed to feel beautiful and powerful. They started a facebook page and women began meeting each other through the power of social media. I don't know how much information my dress owner wants me to share here, but I can tell you that she and I have never met, she seems like an amazing human being, and there are too many states for me to remember between Texas and Virginia.

And the dress! It's like nothing I would have ever purchased for myself, but I think that's the point of the project. It's red and glittery, almost like a red disco ball without mirrors. Here is a picture of the back:

 I'm pretty sure that scoop is too low for a bra, but I fixed the problem by buying a small, balero-type black cardigan. I'm also hoping that will help camouflage my giant arms. I can't tell you the last time a thin, strappy dress was on my body for just this reason.

Here is the front:

See? It's glittering and fabulous. The dress owner was also kind enough to send me a card, that somehow perfectly fit exactly what I was feeling when I opened the package:

Just in case you can't read it, it says, "Life is full of pain, misery,

Just in case you can't read it, it says, "Life is full of pain, misery, disaster, disease, sadness, tragedy, malevolent rabbits (I think that's what it says, I'll have to find the card again to double check), anger, violence, death....But this little owlie's awesomeness negates all that."

And so it did. I'm to the point in my life, my career, and my volunteerism, where it feels like everyone wants to take something from me or use something that I foolishly offer. I'm fostering a puppy (a puppy!) for Seven and, sure, the dog is cute, but wow, I had no idea how hard it would be to house train a 3 month-old puppy. She pees in her crate, she pees in my bedroom, she poops either two feet in front of the door or two feet outside the door, and she fights with Sam constantly. Dinner time for all three animals in the house makes me feel like I'm running an animal shelter. Everyone is crying and whining about me not getting them their food fast enough.

Then there is a problem with my meds. I have some medication that I don't take every day (mostly because I would be in a perpetual state of semi-consciousness haze that I don't enjoy on a regular basis). Sometimes my friends ask me for my extra meds. I never sell them because that's clearly illegal and giving them away is only, what? Partially illegal. I don't know. It's a grey area for me. The problem is when my friends start requesting meds that I take every day because I need them. One of them is a controlled substance that requires me to get a written prescription every month. Someone came over to my house and left the next morning. About twenty minutes after she had left, I got a text saying, "Oh, I forgot to get one of your XXXX. I guess you forgot to give it to me". I was floored. I don't give out that med and I in no way forgot to give one to her. I'm not a pharmacist. I'm not even a physician's assistant. I have what I have because I need it.

So I was feeling used in every way and then I got this wonderful package that was sent specifically for me, to make me feel better. I almost started crying. Someone, a stranger, was thinking about me when it felt like no one else in my life was. It was beautiful.

My Red Dress

Let me put this into context: I came home after the kind of day that made me want to crawl into bed, pull the covers up, and hide from the world. When I came into my bedroom, I found a box. Clicker must have picked it up from my front porch and brought it inside. As soon as I saw it, I knew. I knew that my traveling red dress had come. I almost cried.

If you haven't been following the Traveling Red Dress Project on the web, start with the link to The Bloggess. Then check out the follow-up to her original post. With the first red dress, Jenny (The Bloggess) wrote, "I want, just once, to wear a bright red, strapless ball gown with no apologies. I want to be shocking, and vivid and wear a dress as intensely amazing as the person I so want to be."

Then she got the strapless red ball gown and her friend photographed her in it. Then she sent the dress on a journey, from city to city, so other women could experience the unadulterated joy that she experienced. She asked women to tell her if they needed to celebrate, to feel beautiful, to mark a struggle through depression, cancer, or a divorce. I sent a note saying that I would like to celebrate losing 50 lbs after lap band surgery and a wonderful woman from Fairfax, Virginia said she would happily ship me out a dress.

My photography shoot is scheduled for Sunday, February 18th and I can't wait. More details to come...