Soothing the poor sad dieter

So, I've eaten enough chocolate to sink a ship and there's three times more in the cupboard. My only saving grace is that I am so sick of it I dont think I'll eat it for another 3 years. Although, everyone here likes plain old cadburys plain old and I really would kill for a carmello or some sickly creamy number...... never happy. On weight watchers with no chocolate I would have licked parts of sweaty footballer in the middle of summer just to smell an easter egg but today, I want fantastical variety!

And I wonder why I've been skirting around 92kg for the past month! I just dont really give a shit too much about what's going in.  I have to think about quantity all the time and the no drinking thing is crap so what's going in is kind of last priority.  Didnt everyone say to forget about dieting after the band? That you are no longer on a diet? To be honest, I love being 92kg and although I do miss the "losing" feeling I really dont care too much - I'm not disappointed at all and thats kind of the problem. I could be doing SOOOOO much better than this. I dont think twice about having the most unnecessary pointless high calorie bits and pieces. Things that make the little weight watcher in me just shrivel up and die. Full sugar soft drinks, chocolate up the kazoo, cream, full cream milk, wine and nibblies anything and everything - all in very moderate amounts - and now do you understand why I am loving being 92kg? The scales may not be going down but they're not going up either. 

And when, I would like to ask, is my band going to pull a little more weight? Once again I am starting to have bread again and meals rather larger than a side plate. Banders around me cant eat bread or meat or this and that. Chew properly, I say, and you can get concrete down! I'm even having ever growing larger sips of diet coke after I eat - no sweat. I know the feeling in my stomach when the food starts to shift and I can risk a little sip without blocking up the pipes. I get sooooo bloody thirsty! One of my friends gave me the worst piece of advice - eat something sweet and the thirst goes away. Thanks for that little gem! I am starting to think I am now earning the official title of "Sweet Tooth". Thats a first! Never had a sweet tooth before!

I know all this whingeing is actually about me being out of control. I thought I would be on a diet and the band would help but I have to say, my mentality is so far removed from that of a dieter that its a wonder I havent digested the band as well. I'm eating far too many carbs and not enough protein. Too much grazing. Too much liquids (eg alcohol) not enough rules or just a little bit of inhibition would be great right now. My husband made a comment about my band not working anymore and I could have cried with protectiveness for my poor little friend who is doing the best it can. Just because I'm ignoring it its no reason to give it a rough rap. And I do ignore it. I have always been one to push the limits and tolerances of any given person/situation/rules to see just how far you can go before you pay a price. Most times I am a very savvy, knowledgable little fountain of reason but sometimes it does backfire but not very often. I have never been one to stick religiously to what I am told cause quite frankly, why is anyone else's information or rules more valid than my tried and true experiences? I am not a fervently conscientious, salt of the earth, pillar of strength, rule keeping for the sake of it, happy little follower of society. I have almost always gone against the grain almost purely because everyone else is going with it. I do not err on the side of caution, I tangle with danger to figure out just what I can get away with before pain and/or regret sinks in. Truly though, I almost always come out with a more efficient and less painful way of getting through life while still reaping the rewards without killing yourself on rules and parameters that really are not necessary or even very practical.

And so I have done the same with the band. It seems I get some restriction, I enjoy it and go with it and then I start to test it which by its very nature starts to undo it. Why play with it? Why not just go with it and let it take me to weight loss wonder land? I am not smarter or more practical for doing this. I may not be suffering but I'm not experiencing the exhilerating highs of losing either. Or am I doing the right thing? I'm not doing the extreme dieting situation and burning out and gorging. I'm having faith in the band and life in general and letting the loss just come. I'm soothing the poor sad dieter in me who has suffered and slaved over diets most her life, agonising over every sip, suck, taste, lick and nibble. I'm sure I'm doing the right thing - just enjoying food and life in some kind of moderation. Will being properly filled take this power away from me completely? Will that be a good thing? I kinda like where I'm at but how long will this work for? What is next week going to be like when I'm on an ovulation binge? What is the meaning of life? How many more questions remain unanswered?

So, lets also keep things in proportion - its easter - there's an inordinate amount of shit and food around, long weekends with no routine, school holidays with no routine, we're coming up to some form of menstrual cycle hormonal intolerance (lets face it, every week has its challenges hormonally) and it has only been just two months and lets remember - I've lost over 10kgs in that time!!! Thats a world f^&*)ing record for me!!!!!! Yay! Talk about Easter bringing new life! Still, some control on my part wouldnt go astray and I have just received an offer in the mail to rejoin the gym for free with the first month also free??!!! Or I could just continue to wallow in holiday mode, after all, its school holidays for another two weeks yet.

Ovulating and Oyster Sandwiches

Life is driving me f%^&ing mad! I'm so cranky and agro, EVERYTHING is just shitting me so hard core. I dont know if it my hormonal situation at the moment or the fact that I feel totally out of control with my eating and its getting me down. I have even tried to clean the house to get some feel good going on but to no avail.

Here's what I ate today: I need some advice on whether this is standard or ridiculous - I think its alot. Also - I am hoping by purging this day's worth of food in the blog I may be able to have a better one tomorrow.

Breakfast:
One mashed fried egg with a piece of shaved ham and some low fat grated tasty (a kind of basic omelette no oil for frying) fits a side plate (about 1 cup of food) I'd say a perfect breakfast
Low fat cappuccino

Lunch:
Starving by 12.3o so:
TWO WRAPS!! some chicken breast and beetroot and garlic sauce on a tortilla style flat bread (small size Old ElPaso) wrap but really? TWO?

Afternoon Tea:
Half an oyster sandwich (favourite food in the entire world)
Was that really necessary after that lunch?

Afternoon Tea II:
Some premium crackers and danish feta
Speechless

Dinner:
2-3 small size pieces of pizza
Dont feel like being in the kitchen after all that eating and this is the takeaway I never got after the fill

I think thats alot - dont you? I have my stomach banded and have had one fill and I can still eat all that!!! And I could keep going!???!?!? And I have CONTROLLED MYSELF!!!!!!!

If I am completely honest (once again - very hard for me to take my head out of the sand in order to do this) I have felt full and stopped eating accordingly instead of eating and having to stop myself before I felt full and then suffer the pain. And I do feel the food going down now - it can be a tight squeeze. But really, thats a lot of food. I may be having small meals but is having 6 of those meals still acceptable?

I really dont feel guilty either, its just like its out of my control so go hard. Or is that just a lame excuse (I'm good at those too). I think I'm at the tail end of the monthly eating binge (its ovulation time and my body thinks it needs to double its calorie intake to produce eggs - funny thing is I dont want to have sex when I've binged to the point of pain and discomfort so the eggs are pointless and they wouldnt fertilise anyway) that insatiable feeling IS coming and going. I dont think its here to stay (bloody better not) but it is horrible being a slave to it and its the reason why I got banded in the first place. Apparently third fill is the charm. I might also check out some herbal remedy or something for the extreme hormone experience.

Or maybe I should just have a drink - fixes everything else.....

First Fill and Damien - The Devil's Spawn

Well what a shitter of a day! First things first I ate like a horse over the weekend so I was not looking forward to weighing in with the dietician this morning. Second, no baby sitter for the four year old (we call him Damien and we're waiting for the 666 sign of the devil to show up on his body somewhere in the near future) Damien was already whingeing about going to the doctors with me (although he refuses to go anywhere without me). He knows how long we have to wait in that hellhole. And last, but not least, my first fill anxiety (kinda fear of the unknown kinda scared of the doctor - I'll explain that later) did I mention how much I have eaten in the past week in the name of ovulation and nervous anxiety at having to weigh in? Why do I eat like a horse before I have to weigh in? For the week after, I eat like Ghandi but no, the week before I shove in as much food as possible because I am a dog that shits in doorways. What does that mean I hear you ask? Well, the dog is allowed in the house and all is going well and just to f$%^ things up, the dog shits in the very doorway you just let him in and then whammo - out he goes - wasted the best opportunity of his life!

This kinda nervous eating started way back in my weight watchers days. I would be Ghandi up until Friday (the day before weigh in) and then I'd go beserk. So I'd change weigh in days but that just meant I changed gorge days also. I would sometimes try and counteract the gorge effect by having a chinese tea by the name of Ballerina Tea (named for its use by the slender dancers and also because if you can stand on your toes in wooden shoes then this foul tasting tea is akin to a creamy hot chocolate) Ballerina Tea would - dead set - liquify concrete. By the time I'd weigh in the next morning I would have lost all the gorged food and parts of my pancreas as well as 75% of my body's water so I would drag myself throbbing dehydrated head and all - onto the scales and be the same as the week before. ANYTHING is better than a gain I say. So yesterday afternoon (too afraid to drink Ballerina Tea in case part of my band comes out with it) I gave myself a dose of Benefibre. Didnt work unless you count the three pebbles I passed before I left this morning. I was hoping for an explosive drainage type experience but alas, it was time for complete weigh in honesty - once again - oh how I've grown up!

And once again the scale gods were with me - the scales only registered a gain of 400grams and no i didnt cry. I was relatively happy with that. Thats about the weight of the chips I ate yesterday. The dietician - god love the skinny bitch (you must have a BMI of 11 to work in my obesity clinic) was very pleased with that as it is a sign of needing a fill (I would have said a lobotomy but who's splitting hairs). Of course I had minimal breakfast (seems I can control myself the morning OF weigh in) so by this time I was getting violent with hypoglycemia. Cue waiting with Damien for over an hour to see the doctor and things started to go down hill rapidly.

Damien was whinging (goes without saying). The skinny bitches at the front desk think they're doing you a favour by booking your dietician on the same day as your surgeons visit (never mind the 3 hour wait in between) although you dont actually know what time your doctors visit is so just sit and wait. AND they let people through according to their appointment time so people breeze in and out, late and all and me and Damien are just waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting so I think its time to call in the big guns and I take Damien to the chip machine (conveniently located next to the operating theatre where they do the lap bands - noice). Damien's squealing for a milky bar and of course - my wallet - always full to the brim with change is dry as a bone so we take a trip to the kiosk which - for a really expensive private hospital - is a dirty little hole in the wall with no eftpos and nothing for $1.25 in five cent pieces. I have a moment of inspiration and realise there's change in the car and just as Damien's head is about to do a 360 and spit green slime I get the required Milky Bar and the beast is tamed. By now the waiting room is FULL of people who arrived after us and I walk in with a four year old eating an adult sized chocolate bar - once again - noice. I didnt know whether everyone wanted to tear shreds off me for feeding my child the exact thing that got me in this trouble in the first place or whether they actually wanted to crash tackle Damien for his Milky Bar. Either way, I feared for our lives.

Before you know it (1 hour and 15 minutes) we were in and I was getting jabbed from across the room by Dr Speedy Gonzalez and I was out and bleeding at the front desk. Hurt a tiny bit (emotionally I mean) but there is always something uncomfortable about being treated by a doctor who is about the same age and looks ratio as your good self - really feels like you should be having a drink at a bar not exposing your most stretch marked gut for pricking. Much more comfortable with crusty old doctors. Always seem to have good looking doctors at the most inappropriate times. After 36 hours labour with the first babe the nurses started to twitter that Prince Vince was on his way. "Prince Vince" I ask. Yes, the object of their desire was about to arrive and check out my parts that had been labouring for 36 hours. Had showered in that time but not with soap and metho (my husband recommends kero and a blow torch). So there's Prince Vince (ob and gyno) up my leaking jutsy with all the nurses reapplying lip gloss while I lay there, in all my 110kilo glory sobbing for a cesearean. And yes, Prince Vince had earnt his name! Fast forward ten years and there I am in Speedy Gonzalez's offices discussing morbid obesity with a man you'd only kick out of bed to do on the floor. Noice. (Just in case you read this hubby, I wouldnt actually do him but most would).

Did I mention in all this time that I promised Damien McDonalds on the way home? Good mum aren't I! I was also hanging for a chocolate thick shake (bit scared to do solids although could have hammered a Big Mac). I manage to wrestle Damien to the nearest McDonalds and can you believe - it was shut! Lunch time on a Monday and Mc Donalds was shut!!!!!!!! Have you ever in your life seen a shut McDonalds????????? McDonalds had a black out and had to shut. Thats the kind of day I had. If you cant have McDonalds on the way home from your first fill then when can you?

Damien and I made it home starving and screaming at 3.15pm (and that was for a 12pm appointment). I tried to have a cup a soup but I started to have a post op post traumatic stress situation so I gave it up and had Aldi Danish Feta (fabulously silky and yum) and a bread stick (went down well). Yes I'll take it easy but the lovely husband, so considerate he is, has said that tonight - its my pick - can you believe it! I get to pick whatever I want!! Pity I'm supposed to be on liquids. Oh well...