Advocare 24-Day Challenge Recap

I survived the Advocare 24 Day Challenge!!! There have been times when I really felt like I needed a t-shirt proclaiming exactly that. But overall - as hard as this is to admit - it wasn't really that bad.

Don't get me wrong, there were times I'd have given my right arm for some pizza or cake. And there were times I wanted to quit. And there were times when I wasn't seeing the results I wanted despite doing what I was supposed to be doing. But generally speaking, it was a success.

The stats: Since February 3rd, I've lost 13.4 pounds and 12 inches (4 inches in my waist alone).

I went into it thinking that I'd be thrilled to lose 10 lbs - I didn't want to set myself up for failure by creating a goal that was unreachable.

What the challenge entailed (for me): I say "for me" because I find that everyone does the challenge a little differently. I don't feel like Advocare does the best job of explaining the eating part  of the challenge because oftentimes it's vague. But maybe it's that way on purpose so that you can interpret it the way you want/need? Either way, we spent the 24 days eating "clean". Not flat out "Paleo", but just more natural. Nothing processed - nothing from a box or bag essentially. The less ingredients listed, the better and if you start seeing things listed you can't pronounce, don't eat it. We cut out all dairy - no cheese, milk, yogurt or dairy of any kind.  We did not eliminate carbs, but stuck to complex carbs.  Nothing with sugar or flour. We ate beans, but only low sodium if they were canned and only after they were rinsed and drained. Sweet potatoes instead of white. We were able to find some all natural, whole grain, gluten free soft tortillas for wraps that were high in fiber that we ate once or twice. We didn't measure out everything, but made sure we were aware of portion sizes (a serving of chicken is 3 or 4 ounces so if you're eating two large chicken breasts you may not see the results you want). We watched sodium intake and cut out all alcohol and soft drinks (adios, diet coke!). We inadvertently went "gluten-free" without even realizing we had until week three! After the initial 10-day cleanse we started trying to just have the Advocare meal replacement shake for lunch (which was very filling and didn't taste like complete ass much to my surprise). On the exercise front, I've been doing pilates with some yoga mixed in two to three days a week and briskly walking roughly six miles once a week. The plan is to take up running again as my source of cardio (hopefully three days a week short runs of 2-3 miles) as soon as it starts to get dark later.

I won't bore you with the details of all the supplements, fiber drinks, etc you get in a challenge bundle. The fiber drink was awful, but makes you feel like a million bucks. The rest was tolerable. If you want more info on any of this, I'm happy to share - just contact me directly.

In any event, throughout the process I had an epiphany. An Oprah Winfrey "a-ha moment", if you will. There's a reason this worked and other things haven't.

I'm not a sub-conscious eater. You know the type. The kind of person who eats crap without really realizing they're eating it. Or the type who will sit down with a bag of something and eat the whole thing before they realize they have. I'm not like that. I think about food. A lot. No, like really a lot. The second my eyes open in the morning I'm thinking about what I will be eating that day. The second breakfast is over, before the dishes are even put away, I'm wondering what's for lunch. Valentine's Day is coming up? Let me obsess over all the candy that'll be available. I plan meals in advance for dinner not because I'm on my game but because I'm enjoying thinking about all the tasty stuff I'll make and subsequently gorge on.  I always ate way larger portion sizes than what I should have. I'm not sure why - maybe because if I was at a restaurant I wasn't sure when I'd be back to have it again. Or maybe it was my mantra that if I dropped dead tonight, I'd want to do it with a belly full of cheese fries and not salad. (Though I have since convinced myself that heaven is just one big 24/7 buffet where everything tastes amazing and nothing makes you fat....but I digress.) And if there was a certain type of candy or snack in the house that I liked, I'd eat until it was literally gone. It might take two or three days, but I couldn't relax with it in the house knowing it was there. I'd have to eat it.

Perfect example: Valentine's Day. My sweet husband decided to get me these Godiva strawberry cheesecake truffles that I am obsessed with despite the fact that we were doing the challenge. I'm not sure his thinking, it was a sweet gesture, but it put me well on my way to sabotage. There were probably 20-30 truffles in that box. I ate EVERY ONE OF THEM in less than two day's time. I told myself I was treating myself to a challenge break since it was v-day. It lead to a full blown day of eating CRAP. That chocolate was like the first domino that fell and set the whole fail in motion. I couldn't stop with just the chocolate or one cheat meal. Sadly I ate garbage for 24 hours. And I crapped molten lava for 48. For. Real. Talk about consequences.

If you're reading this and thinking that it sounds like a sick disease you're absolutely right. It was very much a sickness of the mind. I was literally ALWAYS thinking about food. My husband was appalled when I explained this to him. He had no idea that was the way my mind worked prior to this. Seeing the horrified look on his face as I explained this made me realize how that's not at all how most people live their lives. The phrase "live to eat" versus "eat to live" was truly applicable.

So now to the "a-ha": I believe the reason this works for me is because I don't have to really think about the food. I know the things I can and can't eat and it's pretty simple. No counting points. No counting calories. I don't have to think about the food?! Which is good since I can't think about food in a healthy way without a ton of effort. I found in the past with things like Weight Watchers I spent so much time thinking about the food - configuring points and working it all out to maximize how much crappy food I could eat and stay within the bounds - that it was just an invitation to continue thinking unhealthily about the food. And with the Advocare Spark (I swear I'm not trying to sound like a walking advertisment) I'm not getting lightheaded from lack of carbs like I had in past instances with Atkins-style dieting. Ultimately, I'm not obsessing over it anymore. Truly eating to live. I used to hate dieting because even if I was full I wasn't satisfied. What it comes down to is that the satisfaction part was in my head - mentally I was obsessing over [insert name of delicious bad for you food here] so no matter how full I was it wasn't enough. As soon as I took away the mental part, it just clicked into place.

You know all those people who say "It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle change"? Those people I want to kick in the face? Maybe they're on to something after all. I'm the first to admit that I won't be perfect 100% of the time. But when I slip up and eat something I'm not supposed to, I'm going to take the advice of a friend and look at it as a decision, not a "cheat" or a "reward". Maybe it isn't a good decision, but it's mine nonetheless and I know what the consequences will be when I decide to eat badly. I just have to decide if it's worth it. Most days it isn't. Some days it is. Really. I know you're wondering how consciously making the choice to eat something that will make me feel like crap is worth it. I wonder the same thing sometimes. But sometimes it just is. And I figure that as long as I'm making more of the good decisions than the bad ones, I'll be okay. I know that every time I decide to eat badly, it sets me back and that's one day farther away from my goals. But I also know myself well enough to know that if I deny for too long, it becomes the obsession again and that it might be better to just get it out of the way and start fresh after.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not "cured". I've been this way with food for as long as I can remember and 24 days isn't going to "fix" me completely, but I feel like I'm on my way finally. A breakthrough at the very least in that I have figured all this out. I feel like I can finally make it all work without being 100%  miserable 24/7. It isn't without effort. I'm trying out new recipes all the time and changing parts of the old ones to make them work. They aren't all delicious. Sometimes we try one and it's disgusting. But it's a marathon, not a sprint and it'll get easier I think. Maintaining this after I get to my goal (which I honestly haven't completely set yet) should be fairly simple. Until I get there, I'm hoping to keep my head down and power through maybe another 20-30 pounds.

 

 

Give Yourself A Break

No one, and I mean no one, is harder on me than I am. I think it's like that with everyone. Well, maybe not men...but all women. We see flaws that no one else sees. We critique and we obsess over every tiny imperfection. Things that no one would ever notice. And we do it daily. Hell, I do it by the minute.

Then there are times when I think to myself that I must have a skewed perception of myself. Like this morning I left the house thinking I looked fine. I was dropping off the kids are school then going to yoga/pilates. No need for makeup or hair fixing - I'm going to sweat my ass off anyway since they jack the heater up to 147 degrees and it feels like exercising on the sun. But that's neither here nor there. So I get to class and there's not nearly as many people there as usual. I usually avoid the mirror like the plague, but they get you because the only spots not in front of the mirror are directly in front of the heater. So that begs the question.....do I want to watch my fat ass try to be bendy or do I want to sweat worse than I am already sweating? Today I figured, what the hell? I'll get in front of the mirror. It'll help me with my form! It'll help me focus! Maybe I'll even be impressed with how well I'm doing! All of those thoughts were wrong. So.Very.Wrong.

I think I look okay in most pictures I see of myself. Except maybe the ones my mom takes at Thanksgiving where I have my mouth full of food open. Or the ones where I don't know I am being photographed and haven't had the opportunity to hide behind a kid or halfway behind the hubs. But for the most part, I've orchestrated ways over the years to make it so that I'm not aghast at photos of myself. Here's a little tip: there's no one to hide behind at yoga when you're in front of the mirror trying to balance on one locked leg with the other held behind you while leaning forward. It's not pretty. I didn't notice my form. All I noticed was that even after losing eight pounds I still have a long way to go. I thought to myself, "Do I really look like that? Could there be something wrong with this mirror? Everyone else looks in the mirror like they do when I just look at them in real life....OMG DO I LOOK LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE??" I look in the mirror at home every day and I'm not usually entirely disgusted like this. Is there something wrong (in a good way) with my mirror at home?? What.The.Eff.

Honestly, it was hard to get through class. I did, but I was completely distracted at how bad I looked.

I brushed it off for the most part. All I can do is what I'm doing - eating right and exercising. And what I'm doing is working, if slowly. They say "you didn't gain it overnight, you won't lose it overnight". But seriously it feels like I DID gain it overnight. I know it was a hell of a lot more pleasurable gaining it than trying to lose it. I figured I'd treat myself to a calorie free pedicure. During which I had to stop the poor girl and dry my feet three times to go pee since I'm drinking enough water every day for Shamu to live within me.

Then an amazing thing happened....

In a casual conversation about Valentine's Day and how (according to the technician) American men are so much more romantic than Asian men, she asked me how long I'd been married. I told her it would be nine years in May and she gasped! "How old were you when you go married?!," she said in horror. Ummmm 23....She was appalled. She said she thought I was around 25. I'm sitting here with no makeup on and this bitch thinks I'm 25?!?! I wanted to abandon my homosexuality and make this tiny Asian my wife. No kidding. Made my whole damn day.

Even after the yoga-mirror fiasco I managed to feel pretty good. I mean she said I looked seven years younger than I actually am. I was still a little preoccupied with the mirror. (For the record, I will be tucked safely in front of the heater - aka the fiery depths of hell- next time I go to yoga.) Then, when I went to get the twins from school their teacher told me I looked like I'd recently dropped some weight. And here I thought because of the way I gain/lose (all over instead of in one spot) that it wasn't noticeable!!!

My point is this: no one will ever look at you the way you look at you. Your kids just see mom. Your husband probably just sees boobs. Your parents see their child. Strangers see something else entirely. But you see the cow doing yoga. Or the wrinkles around your eyes. Or the cellulite. Or the lack of makeup. Or the donut you just ate. Well, not me. I haven't eaten a donut in for-eva. Damn I want a donut.

Give yourself a break.

Bachelor Comments - Week of 2/11

Yet another week has passed in Bachelor-land. And all the contestants are giving thanks and praise that finally, FINALLY the big bad evil Tierra is gone. Sent packing to take the long mini-van ride home. (Am I the only one who sees the irony that they all arrive in limos and exit in taxis or mini-van rentals?)

As upset as I was not to see the shock on her face when her name was not called at the rose ceremony, it had to be this way. Any more time and she would have managed to further manipulate Sean into keeping her crazy ass another week. While she does have skills in the manipulation department, the credit cannot be all hers because I do think that Sean may be a level one beginner-manipulator target.

Her antics were entertaining to say the least and while I spent the better part of the season laughing at her, I didn’t loathe her with all my might like most. Until last night. That tirade about how 32 is virtually ancient got her straight to the top of my shit list. News flash: 32 is NOT old. And that 32 year old you’re bashing has a body (be it with the help of a skilled surgeon) that makes yours look like something we’d find shamefully shoving Krispy Kremes in your face while you sit in your car listening to Vanessa Hudgens or whatever Disney alumni who’s most recently released an album. You are a child and because of that, the “ancient” 32 year old you bashed bested you. She got your ass good. And she got your man. All without faking illness, injury, or making big “ugly cry” on national television. She was poised and graceful and even waited until the cameras were not on her to say “YESSSSSS!” when she realized your ass was gone. Guess you won’t get to be “wit” Sean after all (please learn to speak English correctly).

Yet we expect nothing less from a woman who has grown up with parents telling her not to let other women “take her sparkle away”. That’s the problem with society today – parents make their kids feel like they are superior to other kids. But that’s another rant we don’t have time for today, so sparkle on Tierra. Sparkle on.

That was the main event of last night’s episode, obviously. Only a few other notables:

-          HUGE shock that Catherine didn’t get the rose on the group date after her sad story about her dad. I guess the make-out queen strikes again. Don’t bet on her going home before the fantasy-suite cards come. Sean knows a sure thing when he sees it.

-          Des managed to commandeer Sean most of the date. Not surprising that it was in a passive aggressive way. Scenes from next week that show her “thug life” wannabe brother coming at Sean look interesting. Can’t wait to see how she handles that. Demure Katie Holmes smiles all around!

-          Poor poor Lesley. You were hot, but awkward. And shame on you, abc producers for letting her be a hot mess in the farewell interviews. Ol’ girl’s bra was hanging out (what she wears a bra for I have no idea because if I had boobs like that…) and she was too lost in her sorrow to notice. Be good people next time and give her the heads up – it’s not like she was the villain like you-know-who.

-          Pinchy face aka “The Cougar” must have had her ass clenched so tight waiting for her name to be called. Way to save her for last, Sean.

-          And last but not least, group date where Sean comes in and wakes me from a dead sleep giving me only 30 minutes to get ready to leave would NOT have gone over well. Even if I’m downing Jamie Lee Curtis yogurt every day, my bowels would need more time to work up a poop. So instead of watching the sunset, I’d have been popping a squat behind the Jeep. Not cool, Sean.

That’s that, folks. Shout out to Marky – without whom I would think these thoughts and never actually take the time to share J

My Comments on The Bachelor - Week of February 4th

More commentary on the trainwreck that is this season’s The Bachelor:

I failed to blog last week, but really there was only one thing to say. The star of the show and the only one in my opinion who deserved a rose was Sarah’s dog. How effing cute was that thing?! Sean would have been smart to just end it there – no drama at least.

Which leads to this week. DRAMA!

First of all, can I just say that if I was a contestant, and having watched all the previous seasons was ready to be whisked away to a beautiful tropical locale only to find out we were headed to Montana I think I would have handed in my rose and hit the road. That’s messed up. Montana? Really Sean? I get that you are trying to weed out those who don’t have similar outdoorsy interests, but Jesus what happened to a little wine & dine? I don’t want to hike up/repell down a mountain to earn a dinner I will not be able to even eat because I can’t stuff it in my mouth with the cameras around (I’m convinced that’s why we never see any of them actually eat anything on the dates). Then they leave Montana for Canada. But that was Tuesday’s episode and I’m getting ahead of myself.

So he chooses Lindsey for a one on one date and they do this picnic on the mountainside thing. I refuse to eat outside but then again they don’t actually eat. Or talk. Or really do anything except make out. We find out Lindsey was an army brat. Then there’s more kissing. Not much else.

A side note on Sean’s kissing style: the man has no tongue foreplay. He goes straight in for the kill EVERY TIME. I am so tired of looking at the side of Sean’s toungue. What happened to a little slower, softer kissing before shoving your tongue down her throat?

Then there’s the group date competition which turns out not to be a competition at all because the losers also get invited to the nighttime portion of the date. And Tierra of course stalks her way over there as well. I don’t get how this isn’t a red flag for Sean. The bitch obviously can’t follow directions. It’s clear you were not invited to this date! Can Sean not see a future where he is married to this psycho and gives her simple instructions like “Stay in the car while I change this flat on the side of the highway” and she sneaks up behind him with a tire iron??

He gives the group date rose to Daniella. Who is that, you ask? I call her Rooty Tooty because of her desperate need of a hairdresser to fix those roots! What trailer park did abc pluck this one from? I didn’t see a connection, I think he just felt sorry for her (Lord knows Sean loves a damsel in distress).

The two on one date was with Tierra and Jackie, who I personally felt was one of the prettiest girls. Does he choose the nice demure girl who he can safely take out in public? No. Of course not. He picks psycho ass. I was really wishing that Robyn would lose her composure and go buck wild on Tierra at the rose ceremony, but no dice.

He ends up sending Robyn home, so apparently Sean doesn’t like the chocolate after all. (Her words, not mine!)

Tuesday night’s episode was dramatic as well (two Bachelor episodes in two nights!?!? Squee!!!).  

Catherine gets a one on one. I am really liking her. She actually has half a brain. And Sean should really like her because any woman who likes you enough to freeze her ass off on top of a fricking mountain is a keeper. When he drove up in the snow bus I would have promptly said “Where the hell is my limo/helicopter/ferrari/other acceptable mode of date transportation?” They literally had ice growing on their faces. Date fail. Then you’d think there would be a hot tub/indoor venue for the second half. Nope. Ice castle. Eff that. Keep your rose because lord knows if this is the sort of future I can expect with you I’m out.

Sean once again picks a stupid date. What also baffles me is how he keeps picking one-arm Sarah for the most physically strenuous dates. Roller derby? Sawing a log in half? Canoe rowing? Seriously dude, she only has one arm (in case you didn’t hear her say it 487 times or notice the stump the producers keep zooming in on). Give the girl a break!! You take able-bodied Lindsey for a stress free picnic and you make poor Sarah row across a lake? I don’t get the logic. I’ll give it to her, ol’ girl held her own and didn’t back down from any of it. I think I would have waved my half-arm in the air and said “Hellooooo Sean! I only have one arm! You think we can NOT do an olympic sport this date??” Then after all her effort he drops her ass before they even make it to the rose ceremony. And I don’t care what you say about doing her a favor by not keeping her there two extra days, that’s a slap in the face to any woman that they apparently were so damn bad you couldn’t even follow protocol.

Tierra of course fakes illness. Again, red flags all over the place. I’ve never seen someone put on an oxygen tube as fast as she did when she heard him coming. And of course she is well enough to go for the date night. If only we would be lucky enough for her to get a real injury or illness. That dent in her forehead bothers the hell out of me, too. Makes me wonder who was the lucky guy or gal who got to put it there. Maybe it’s harsh, but she really is crazy. And a master manipulator. Props for that. Not that Sean isn’t an easy mark.

Second one on one with Desiree. I’m a little tired of the Katie Holmes face she makes. The date was boring. She’s pretty boring. Nothing much to say.

Selma risks being honor-killed and kisses Sean on TV. Then he dumps her. Kind of funny. Though I don’t get the logic: it’s not okay for you to kiss him on tv, even a chaste one like what they had, but it apparently is okay for you to wear a dress so low that I can practically see your areolas?

AshLee has some sort of hang up about not having control so she lets Sean blindfold her and boo hoos the entire time. News flash, Sean: this speaks to a lifetime of vanilla sex for you if you end up with poor sad orphan AshLee.

That’s all I have to say for now! Since it was a special request that I write this, I have skipped a nice hot bath in favor of pleasing my hoardes of loyal followers. All nine of you.

The Bachelor Episode 2 - My thoughts

So I’ve been told that my sharp wit and stunning sense of humor are as such that I should write a blog featuring my thoughts on The Bachelor. (Well, maybe not in those exact words, but you get the idea). I am nothing if not a people-pleaser (HAHA!) so I shall acquiesce.

 A few thoughts from last week before we start:

He kept the chick in the wedding dress??!!?? Really!? That had crazy written all over it with a permanent marker!

Thankfully he had the sense to send home the one who walked up singing a country song she wrote about him. You aren’t sure which one I meant? Let me narrow it down: she was orange from self tanner. Oh, wait, that won’t narrow it down at all….she wore waaaay too much makeup. Oh, wait, that doesn’t help either. Screw it. Her name was Kelly. Look her up online.

I will be very afraid to see what Paige the Jumbotron Operator who appeared on Bachelor Pad might put on her Jumbotron after as broken as she was during the rose ceremony….

On to this week:

Date 1 – Sarah

Sarah is the girl with one arm. Don’t gasp at me, it’s true. And I figure since she said it 4,357 times throughout the course of the show, it’s okay for me to say it now. Had I taken a shot for every time she brought up the fact that she only has one arm or every time the cameras guy zoomed in on the stump (that was a little weird if you ask me, normally they only zoom in on boobs) I’d have been rushed to the ER with alcohol poisoning.  The date seemed to go well. Then again, he knows he better keep her at least 3 or 4 episodes lest he be the insensitive asshole who didn’t give the one-armed girl a shot at “true love”….

 Group Date

The premise of the date was a stupid one (as it usually is). A photo shoot for the cover of a Harlequin Romance book… does anyone still read that garbage? But of course these things are designed to cause unrest within the group and of course it did. I’m liking the Robyn chick for her frankness talking to the make-up artist about trashy hoes (LOL!). Of course Tierra is a nut job in the worst way. The second they showed her clip last week I looked over at my husband and said “You see her? That one’s crazy. Look at her eyes. Crazy eyes.” And I’m usually right about crazy eyes. Of course the “model” (which is obviously aterm used very loosely in Bachelor world since old girl looks like a man in drag sometimes) wins the contest. It’s an interesting victory to be the person who looks best on a slutty, poorly-written romance “novel” (clearly another loosely-used term). One who wasn’t crazy before, but I think has become a little hardened from the rigors of Bachelor-hopping is Kacie B. Sweet demure little Kacie showed up on night one with her goods on display and ready to rock Sean’s world. And she hasn’t backed down from being a bit harsh with the girls. She’s obviously a huge fan of being the “mentor” of the group, having been dumped on national TV once before (what a thing to be a pro at…). She gets the rose despite the fact that Sean looked about as interested in her as reading a Harlequin Romance novel (see what I did there?). Tierra was furious of course.

Date 3 – Des

Isn’t she so cutesy in a Katie Holmes-pre-Tom Cruise sort of way? The date was even dumber than the first two what with the mostly failed practical joke that wasn’t even funny. Clearly she and Sean have a lot in common with their picture-perfect familial backgrounds. Gag. It was boring so I don’t have too much to say about it.

Rose Ceremony –

Amanda apparently decided to turn on the petulant child façade. This rubbed the girls all wrong but oblivious Sean never notices (or does notice and gives her a rose anyway). Wedding Dress girl apologizes for her erratic behavior from the first night and says the “wine was flowing” which translates into “I can’t hold my liquor and if I can’t be trusted not to embarrass myself and my family on national TV, imagine what a show I’ll put on as your wife at your company Christmas parties!”. Robyn straight up asked him if he likes black girls and Sean tells the world that his last girlfriend was black (I’ll admit that I totally didn’t see that one coming). In the end there weren’t many big shockers as far as who received roses. The girl with two kids at home is going home without a daddy for them. No surprise there.

That’s all I’ve got for now!

thankfulness and the election

A few words on the election and thankfulness:

This will likely offend some people, but the very people who find it offensive would likely learn a few things if they sat back and reflected on this and how it pertains to them.

I am amazed. Totally and utterly amazed that the very same people who have been making a “what I am thankful for” post every day are so enraptured with this election and its results that they have completely lost the ability to reflect on those very things. The things you were thankful for yesterday: your health, the health of your family, your home, food in your belly, etc…..all those things have NOT disappeared since last night. I think it’s a slap in the face to all those who live in areas where they aren’t free, or those who are terminally ill, or those who don’t have a roof over their heads for you to carry on like you can’t continue to live because the election did not go your way. We found out yesterday that someone we know has been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer. I bet she couldn’t care less who was elected.

Spare me the bullshit “America is going down the crapper” speech. I get it. Obama is not an ideal president. But what I would love more than anything – especially more than the patriotic “save our country” bit – is if you would tell me what specifically has happened in the last four years that has directly affected you. No, I don’t mean that you have to work and the person in front of you in line used food stamps to buy steaks and drove off in an Escalade. I don’t mean how it makes you upset that we don’t test welfare recipients. I don’t even mean how you don’t think you will get to retire because of the state of Social Security. I mean real things that are happening now that affect you in a direct way that you can feel in your everyday life.

For me personally, the only thing that will affect me is the 3.6% tax I will pay when I finally sell my home. Aside from that, I can’t think of a single solitary thing. I’m sure there are and will be others. Don’t get me wrong, there are things I am concerned with – how some policies will potentially affect businesses in a way that may hurt our family’s income – but in the end, he has been elected and it’s OVER. Carrying on about it now does nothing to change what has happened or what will. I exercised my right to vote. I explained how elections work to my daughter and told her in a way that she would understand why we voted the way we did. But for me to cry over this, to be unable to function outside of what’s happening, to all but throw a tantrum over it does nothing but set a bad example for my child of how one behaves when things don’t go their way.

If my saying this has pissed you off, I apologize. Not for pissing you off, but for the fact that you are potentially missing the forest for the trees. Go on with your life. Hug your spouse and your kids. Cook a good meal for dinner tonight – not to celebrate the election of the president, but to celebrate the fact that you live in a home with electricity and can afford ingredients to cook said meal. Take a fraction of the time you’ve spent being upset over what has happened to volunteer at a hospital or a shelter. Go on. It’s not a betrayal to your beliefs or values to do so. It’s what Mitt would have wanted you to do! (I don’t know that for sure, but that may be the only thing that gets some people to move on!)

And now I’m going to tell you the things I am thankful for. Not the big ones like my husband, family, kids, home, health. I’m going to tell you about some of the little things that, though small, make me happy and thankful.

I’m thankful for Coke. Not Diet Coke, though I love it as well, but real Coke with sugar and caffeine and little bubbles filled with joy in every sip.

I’m thankful for stretchy pants, without which I may never leave the house.

I’m thankful for flip flops and to live in a place where I can wear them all but five months out of the year.  

I’m thankful to have good grammar and punctuation for the most part. I’m thankful that I know when to use your vs you’re and their vs they’re.

I’m thankful I don’t generally have to deal with stupid people every day. I have friends who do through no fault of their own and it breaks my heart.

I’m thankful for cheese.

I’m thankful for my new flat stomach and perky boobs. Oh yeah.

I’m thankful for my smokin’ hot husband J

I’m thankful for Pottery Barn sales.

I’m thankful for non-fluorescent lighting in dressing rooms.

I’m thankful for commercial free TV courtesy of my DVR.

Most of all I’m thankful to be able to spout all this off and let the chips fall where they may.

Tales of Plastic Surgery

I said earlier this year that 2012 would be “the year of skinny”. I started in January. I dieted and lost 15 pounds. I worked out incessantly and toned up a great deal all over. Almost all over. As it turns out, despite what the “all you need is diet and exercise” believers preach, I needed more. It was time to call in the experts.

Before I go into detail, I’m warning you that this is not pretty. It may be “TMI” to a lot of people. If you think you may feel that way, stop reading now. When I started this blog I said that I would be sharing things that were sometimes embarrassing to me in the hopes that maybe people would stop being so judgmental about the way others look. Not to mention that I feel like if we can laugh at our own expense, maybe we will stop trying to laugh at the expense of others. So that was the warning, folks. If you end up offended after this point, it’s a big, fat not my problem.

The genetics of childbearing have not been on my side. I’m not shirking responsibility for my hand in it, but if you really think about all the women you know you will realize that genetic predisposition plays a huge part in a lot of this. I know women who have had one child and never really bounced back despite their best efforts. I also know women who have had multiple children and still look like a 13 year old without so much as counting a calorie. The former cover up in modest mom-style swimsuits and sundresses on the beach each year (if it were up to us we probably would avoid the beach altogether, but what about the children?) while the latter put on string bikinis and sip margaritas while they pose with their children and post the pictures on Facebook. I’m a firm believer that despite your rockin’ body, there comes a time when modesty should render such things age-inappropriate, but that’s my opinion and it’s neither here nor there. The point is, sometimes you really don’t have a say in how you turn out looking after having kids. It is a scientifically proven fact that if you are predisposed to getting stretch marks that you can slather 10 gallons of cocoa-shea-almond-whale fat-butter-body-cream all over yourself during the course of pregnancy and all you’ll be doing is making yourself a slippery, ultra-moisturized, scented ball of hormones. If you’re going to get them, you’re going to get them. The good news? If you aren’t predisposed to getting them, you won’t. Women who don’t have them have often been heard saying what they did to prevent them. News flash, honey: All you did to prevent them was to be born to the right parents.

While we all may have slightly more control over the way our bodies morph after having children, in some cases it isn’t much. In my case, I had to have a c-section with my first child. While I managed to lose the pregnancy weight almost immediately, things never quite regained the level of elasticity they once had. I had a droopy tummy. I worked on it and learned to dress it in a way that was not as noticeable, but it never truly went back to being tight and flat. Over time I experienced several more pregnancies that did not result in children for us and one that even resulted in surgery. Over all that time, no matter how much diet and exercise I still had the droopy tummy. And what a small price to pay for such a beautiful gift! Then came the news that we would be having twins – a miracle to us! – but the toll it takes on the body is something to behold.  

The pregnancy went well by any standards and we were given two healthy six-pound babies. Anyone who knows anything about multiples pregnancies will tell you that the thought of all the horrific things that can go wrong is nothing short of terrifying each and every day until delivery. The last thing you’re thinking about is what your body will look like after. Once again, the weight was lost almost immediately. But the once droopy stomach was now a full-fledged deflated balloon.

I worked hard. I dieted. I exercised. I lost weight. I gained weight back. I ran. I walked. I lifted weights. I ran some more. Finally after two years I realized this was as good as it was going to get on its own.

In addition, I was now close to a G. No, I don’t mean I was becoming gangsta. I mean my bra. Was a size G. “G” as in GINORMOUS boobs. For real. Don’t start thinking all sorts of playboy fantasy images. There is nothing, and I mean nothing sexy about back aches and bras with straps wide enough to tow a small car. I had always been large-chested, but things had gotten out of hand. Weight loss was not changing this either. I exercised my pectoral muscles so they would have a better shot at remaining above my waist, but all that did was make them stick out further.

Since the twins were now at an age where they didn’t have to be lifted (sleeping in regular beds vs cribs, out of high chairs, able to get into the car on their own) I decided to get a consultation to see what sort of nightmare repairs would be. So here is the story of how 2012 truly became the year of skinny (or will soon):

Consultation –

Most plastic surgery offices are decorated beautifully and tastefully and this one was no exception. Even the exam rooms are aesthetically pleasing and comfortable. Until they tell you to strip down and put on the robe. So you do and you wait. And then they come in. With a camera. Like a telescopic lens camera that can take pictures of the rover on Mars. And you’re in a 10x6 room. This is all a necessary part of the consultation – rationally I understand that – but having never in 30 years been photographed naked (even when I was smokin’ hot in college) and now becoming a “before” picture is unnerving to say the least. (And really makes me wish I had taken some pics back then before I was the “before” picture!) The doctor discusses options. He lifts, tugs, pokes and prods. He shows you other before and after pictures (without a face, thank God!) and goes through the details like cost (think: used car), what you want the outcome to be (I’d like to not be a fat ass anymore, thank you), how the recovery is (one week! No big deal, right?), and when to schedule surgery (ASAP!). Overall it isn’t a terrible experience and very informative.

Pre-Op Appointment –

So I scheduled the surgery for October 15^th. Two weeks prior you meet with the RN. This is the part where they know you’ve already paid for it and they tell you a more accurate version of the truth. Not that the doctor is dishonest, but they tend to leave out the details of the cutting and recovery that make the blood drain from your head during the consultation. I’m sure that’s out of consideration that they just inspected and photographed all your uglies. This is the part where you get the real details of the recovery. The timeline is still pretty much the same, but the reality of it is a bit more eye-opening. They tell you all the things you will need to get for after – what type of bra and ice packs and pain meds to get filled.

Surgery… D-Day –

Thankfully they gave me a Valium to take the morning of. I doubt that I would have shown up for the surgery without it. The surgery was to last five hours and no matter how many previous times I had been under anesthesia I had never been under for that long. It’s scary. I just kept thinking that if I died doing something elective like this I would be pissed.

So if you thought the consultation was fun, you’re gonna love this part. They literally take a marker and draw all over you. Just like on TV. I’m sure with me he felt like he was drawing all over a large topographical map. Not fun. After that you head over to the surgical suite and lights out!

On a side note, wouldn’t it be nice if the anesthesiologist was an overweight, middle-aged guy or perhaps a snaggle-toothed woman with chest hair? Instead I get a Christian Grey look-alike with an MD behind his name. Excuse me, but can you monitor my anesthesia from someplace that you can’t see all my fatness?

Recovery –

This is the part that’s crazy. They have now performed a breast reduction of massive proportions (from a G to a C), a full tummy tuck with reconstruction of the abdominal wall muscles (mine had apparently separated during pregnancy/childbirth), and some light lipo on the sides to even things out (this wasn’t what I signed up for, but I was told it was a necessary part of the tummy tuck procedure). This took the full five hours and I’ve now been dosed with Demerol and Flexeril (a muscle relaxer). I feel no pain, but very very dizzy. As soon as I’m awake they have me sit up in the bed and eat crackers. Saltine crackers. If you’ve ever been under, you know how dry your mouth is when you wake up. They gave me saltine crackers with nothing to drink. It was like eating glue. I finally got some diet coke (unfortunately they couldn’t put it in the IV directly) and was able to partially swallow the paste. At this point the nurse says it’s time to go home. Like to my house. In the car. Lady, I’m barely lucid and you want me to get up and walk to the car?! I remember telling her I wasn’t ready and I needed to rest more, but this chick was kicking me out the door! I know that’s protocol and it’s best for you to be up and moving about as soon as possible, but I was zapped! I don’t remember much after that. I managed to get in the car. I don’t remember the drive home or getting into bed. Apparently I ate a sandwich that night and got up assisted to pee, but I remember nothing. I even see that I texted a few people. Don’t remember.

I don’t remember much Tuesday either. God bless my amazing husband for handling things in my absence as well as being a nurse to me (who admittedly is not the easiest patient to care for). And thank God for the help of great friends who assisted with getting Camille to and from dance class, my mom and dad who helped with the kids, my grandparents who watched the kids during the operation and are helping out even now that I’m mostly back on my feet, even down to those friends who sent e-books and magazines – I love you all.

I remember a few parts of Wednesday – that was when I was able to shower. Showering included my poor husband putting an ice chest in the shower for me to sit on (I said I needed something to sit on when I could no longer stand and apparently he thought that was the most viable option?) and using the ribbon from the medal I received the previous Saturday in the Warrior Dash to hold the vessel from my drainage tube. Here’s where it gets nasty – they leave a piece of rubber tubing sewn into your body at the tummy tuck incision. Yep. At the end is a rubber bulb that looks like a grenade and fills with bloody goo leaking from your body. It stays in for a full week and has to be periodically emptied. You also have to wear this abdominal binder that has space-aged Velcro and takes two people to fasten. There’s a handy-dandy Velcro strip that loops through the bulb to hold it in place. So when you take a shower you aren’t wearing the binder, thus having so place to Velcro the bulb and trust me when I say, you do NOT want that thing getting tugged on. It will inevitably happen, but is not advisable. So I’m hunched over wearing the finishers medal from a 5k with my own goo hanging in a bubble from it sitting on an ice chest in the shower. You get the picture.

In addition to that grossness, the lipo punctures leak and ooze for the first few days so you have to lay on a puppy pad (yes the things you put on the floor for the dogs to piss on). I doubt they are called that, but that’s what it is. And you get to wear a super-stylish cotton sports bra around the clock.

The entire ordeal was painful. By Thursday I decided I wanted to get off the painkillers so I started to wean. Demerol is not a fun drug to stop taking. I also decided I couldn’t bear to look at the four walls of my bedroom anymore. I sat on the couch for a while but even that wore me out and required a nap after a few hours. I wasn’t feeling myself until the weekend and even then nowhere near 100%.

Follow-Up –

Monday I went for my post-op appointment. They removed the dreaded drainage tube!!! I almost passed out thinking about how that was going to happen knowing the searing pain I experienced when the thing was accidentally pulled on. Turns out, it hurts when it gets pulled because it’s stitched into your skin. When the stitch is clipped, it slides right out. All 18 inches of it. Imagine how that feels inside your body being snaked out – it’s odd to say the least. And finally I no longer have to wear the abdominal binder! I’m going to be fitted for a “compression garment”. Apparently, when all that fat gets zapped and messed with it liquefies and re-congeals later (appetizing, I know) and the garment gives it a shape to take when it does. If you don’t wear this compression garment for 6 weeks, you end up a lumpy bumpy mess. Well after the hell I’ve been through, I’m not taking that chance and surely it can’t be that bad, right……right?

Wrong. You know how when you buy a pair of Spanx and you open the box and pull it out and it looks to be about the size of a newborn onesie? And you check again to be sure you got the correct corresponding letter to your measurements. And you did. And you check again. But it’s right. So you make sure your skin is dry (because let’s face it, the slightest bit of moisture renders the entire process impossible) and wrestle around on the floor yanking and pulling and rolling and you start to sweat and OMG I’m sweating and they’re sticking to my skin and and and voila! They’re on and you look slimmer and trimmer and you get down on your knees to praise Jesus that there is a hole sewn in for you to pee from because you know in the deepest part of your soul that if you pull them down to potty you will NEVER get them back on again. Ever. And then you add a prayer: Dear Lord, Baby Jesus, looking so sweet in your little manger, please please please don’t let me have to go #2. Because if I do, the jig is up. And without these Spanx, the dress won’t zip. And then you curse the person whose wedding you are required to Spanx-up to attend and go on your merry way. You know about all that? Good. Now imagine that times 10. To the 10^th power. Times the square root of infinity. Because a compression garment…..makes those itty bitty Spanx….look like sweatpants you lounge in on your day off.

And you’re sore and tender and you’ve got an incision from hip to hip. So there will be no wrestling on the floor to get these bad boys on. And you realize they have a hole sized so that you can do ALL your business without removing them. And you know….shit just got real.

So you do the only thing you can. You sit on the ice chest in your shower and cry. Then you dry your eyes (and your body – twice) and you call your loving spouse and you beg him to help you get into it. And it takes a little blood, a lot of sweat, and a few tears, but you get in. And realize you have to pee, so you go and because of your inexperience manage to piss all over the damn thing, requiring you to take it off, hand wash it and start all.over.again.

I’m better at expelling my bodily fluids now and have been accident free for a while. We’ve even gotten the art of putting them on and taking them off down to a smaller scale ordeal (though I am still unable to get into them unassisted).

All in all, things are slowly but surely getting better. I’ve been able to drive the kids to school and activities and even went to Target yesterday. I’m still achy and sore, but every day is better than the last. Do I regret going through all of this? Not at all. I regret being nervous about telling people what I was doing. So many people judge and say “Why are you so vain?”, but while I am sure vanity was involved, this was not something that couldn’t be categorized as a quality of life issue. I am certain that I will be able to run more comfortably, dress more easily and actually buy the size I need, not the one two sizes larger because it’s the only thing my boobs and excess skin will fit into, and enjoy my time with my kids more because I’m not trying to avoid a camera. Those who will judge will do so regardless of what I write here. Hell, I’m guilty of it myself when I see someone who gets plastic surgery who I don’t feel really “needs” it. But that’s wrong. Who am I to say who needs what? I have had so many people say they didn’t think I was large enough for a breast reduction and were blown away when I told them I was a G. The thing is, I learned to hide it well so who knows what that other person looks or feels like underneath their clothes.

I do know one thing: this has given me even more motivation to continue what I was doing before because I know now I will actually be able to see the fruits of my labor. It was disheartening to exercise so hard before and not ever really see much happening because of the damage done to my abdomen. And it was painful to run with breasts so large. In any event, I’ll feel better.

So there it is – all the gory details. Take from it what you will. I’ll try to update as the circumstances of recovery change!