Restriction - the love that dare not speak its name

OK so I really wish I wasnt writing this post but here goes. I have been pretty non plussed and numb to this whole situation but its starting to creep in now and I'm getting concerned. I went for my 2nd fill in Tuesday, all went well doctor very pleasant etc etc.

I guess I just dont feel like blogging right now and right now is when I should really. Just wanted to say (and make it real) that I have gained about 2 kilos over the past week and yes it is shitting me today and I am really not very happy about it. I want to have faith in this system and believe that the week will bring me restriction and that loss will come my way and I'm sure if I looked back over last month this exact same thing happened then. But really, the loss has slowed right down (and is it any wonder with the way I've been eating!). The doctor wont let me get filled any sooner than a month away and this past month gave me one step forward for a week and then 3 steps back and 2 kilos over. I cant do this for another month. He assures me this fill will be easier than last fill and the restriction will last longer but I'm very sceptical. The last couple of days since the fill has been completely quiet no restriction - no pain - nothing. Like I dont have a band. Less than the day before I was filled even!!!??? God I'm hoping that my next post will be me ranting about how wrong I was and how restricted I am!

I have eaten a chiko roll, a meat pie, chips and alcohol up the kazoo, sandwiches, burgers you name it and I barely feel it go down let alone get stuck at all. Can you all hear me complaining about gaining weight after a week of eating shit like that? I feel shitty at myself but then I think - hey, I've done the hard yards! I went through the hideous pain after surgery, the opti, the sad nursing home liquids, all that money!, discomfort, immobility, gas pain, port pain, jeans pain, bend over pain etc etc this freaking thing should not ALLOW ME to even contemplate those foods! I know the love of restriction and that love would not hurt you by letting you eat a chiko roll and follow up with calamari and chips. Restriction wont let you hate yourself. I love who I am when I am restricted - I dont even CONSIDER the food. I want it back! I want to be restricted.  I want to feel that hideous despondency when you cant eat what you want or how much you want. I want to feel that hopelessness, that emptiness when food cannot be used to spakfill a giant, gaping emotional hole. I want to wander around the house lost and forlorn not glued to the kitchen planning, buying, cooking and concocting the most fabulous foods. I want to miss grazing. I want to hurt like my hearts going to break in two and not glue it back together with ANOTHER chocolate easter egg. I want to feel the pain! I dont want to be gorged and numb and unable to feel.

I so didnt want to write this post I wanted to write and make you all laugh with my "boob in the drawer" antics but I just had to let this out. And I'm going to post my weight for this week. You will all freak. But I just cant update my ticker. I'm not that strong. There will have to be a missing week. I'm going to see how long this calm before the storm (or lack thereof) lasts and if I still have no relief by next Tuesday (one week after fill) I'm ringing to complain. I cant hack this slipping back into "I hate myself" mode.

Well, I havent eaten for two hours now so it must be time for a lil somethin' somethin'. Gotta keep this pain at bay somehow!

My Friend, My Enemy, My Restriction

That elusive experience called restriction has entered my life and I am loving it! I woke up on Friday morning just knowing that something was different. I was rushing about and didnt have breakfast - now that is just a travesty of the worst kind in my life and I eat for a week to make up for the lost meal - but I forgot all about it. Had lunch at 2pm and then no dinner - thats TWO weeks catching up and a nervous breakdown - I will be anorexic in a week at this rate!! Had a few little cracker nibblies on Friday night and that was it - ALL DAY! How pure and gaunt do I feel? Actually, strange thing is, I dont feel empty, or weak or starving or "holier than though". I feel just normal. I like this normality.

So Saturday was a similar day - but with too much alcohol - nice combination - hardly any food and too much alcohol - FUN! Cue roaring dry horrors on Sunday and whats the best thing for the morning after - Mc Donalds. I attempted a sausage mc muffin and I knew after about 1/2 a bite where it was headed but I soldiered on. Only had not even half but, stupid stupid stupid girl, I had a swig of juice (very bad dry horrors) and man that muffin was stuck like a 14 year old in Supre. It hurt, it ached I sweat, I thumped my chest, I put my arms up in the air (thanks Nene) I had to walk around like when I was in labour I could feel a chuck coming on I bent over and that puppy dislodged and I was all over. The adrenaline rush of relief when that pain went was almost worth it in a sick "mummy cant get a buzz anymore" kinda way. But that was it for me. I had that tight achey pain in my chest all day and it scared me into submission.

I found over the weekend that I am envious of people swigging away on drinks while they eat. I have a new found obsession - drinking while you eat. I no longer crave massive big chewy, crunchy mouthfuls of bread and carbs - now I crave a fizzy cold rush of diet coke to wash a half chewed mouthful down. Oh to drink while I eat! I find myself choosing liquids over solids and not eating so I can drink. Half of me thinks thats just shit but I've always been a very thirsty person and have always drunk alot. I always stole my mothers drinks when I finished my own as a kid. Back in the 70's when you could smoke in McDonalds I had a swig of my mothers drink and yes, I drank ash and ciggie butts. McDonalds cups make great ashtrays. Yum! It seems now that if I eat and wait for half an hour after to drink there just isnt enough time in the day for me to drink enough. I have to ration the eating to allow the drinking. Where will this end?

All the while throughout my little, very minor but very memorable episode, I was thinking of all my bandster gals out there. Poor Nola who had this out in public with a Llama sniffing around, Nene out in a restaurant, the confusion of not knowing which "quiet corner" out in public is going to be the best place to let your innards out. I couldnt imagine the horror! I was at home and only had to hide the extremness of the situation from my husband who is A. Prone to lecturing and B. A bit of a worry wart. I just acted like I was going to the kitchen and had my seizure around the corner near the loungeroom (wooden floors, wipe clean society, dont care where the spew ends up). I didnt know whether to laugh or cry thinking about all you trippers out there who have paved the way before me - the words I would use in my blog to describe my episode - what I would say to my surgeon when my band slipped and I aspirated a McDonalds hash brown. Oh the things that go through your mind in a crisis! Its like a car crash, feels like an hour and everything's in slow motion. Its actually 30 seconds and your writhing around like an excavated worm on a hot day.

I do feel like part of the club now. Trust me to find the belonging in all the foulness. My PB experience was so lame but this was the real mc coy. I got stuck!!! And it hurt!! Why should I be happy about that? I guess it does keep you honest.

So I'm loving the restriction but it is a double edged sword. I cant be a slack arse anymore. I have to be careful with the rules - I now know the consequences. I am worried this will wear off that sometime the insatiable hunger will come back and then where will I be? I want to kiss the surgeon (no tongues) I so viciously bagged out last week for granting me the grace of restriction. I have seen the light and I am transformed. Until the next cherry ripe.