Starting it up all over again!

Hi Guys!

It's been a while.  Sorry about that.  But I'm going to try again and see where this blog takes me. Even if the only place it takes me is up to my spare bedroom for time spent typing and rereading and typing some more, hahaha.  

I wasn't sure where to go with this blog.  I felt like I needed to change things up for this new year.  To really... FORMAT this beeeeetch and get a game plan for future blogging.  Thoughts included: "Hey Amy, why not set up a weekly movie or book review?" and "Let's turn this blog into something where you only talk about one subject" mixed with "Are people even actually INTERESTED in this thing anymore??"

So I took to Facebook and asked.  And, the majority of the responses I received said "just write... we'll read if you write" and I thought that was really fucking cool.  So, thank you guys for that.

And, with that little speech out of the way... I'll start that writing thing.

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It's 2017, ya'll!  When did THAT happen??  (yeah, yeah... right after 2016, hardy har har).  

Here we are.  Facing a new year that's starting with a WHOLE lot of turmoil.  

I feel like every day I wake up to bad stuffs.  Fear, anguish, aggression.  My friends are scared, my family is fighting with each other, my country is tearing itself apart.  

It's a whole lot of anxiety enducing, nausea producing, holy-shit-whats-gonna-happen???!!!! 

It feels like too much to take. 

I've been trying to toss around ideas with people.  To find solutions to the panic that is settling into the hearts of my loved ones and I.   

And here's what I think I've found: 

We are not helpless in the face of this turmoil.  We CAN take action, and we should.  

Find a group you believe in and do EVERYTHING you can to support it.  Donate money, time, energy.  Find strength in knowing you are giving all you can to something you believe in.  I, personally, don't care what that is.  I don't even care if it's in opposition to my OWN beliefs.  SUUUUURE I'd like to think that everybody I love loves the homosexuals and Planned Parenthood, but, come on now... I know there's some of you out there who are just wrong.  ;) (I keed... seriously).

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this.  I'm not even sure it is making logical sense.  I just know that I saw a cartoon my Aunt Kathleen posted that it struck a chord in me and I felt, for the first time in a long time, that I needed to write about it.

Here it is: 

And here is what I have to say about it: 

I'm going to plant flowers.  Because the world needs more beauty.  It needs more nurturing.  It needs more to look forward to.  I'm going to plant the kinds of flowers I want to see grow.  I'm going to support the people I love and the movements I believe in.  I am not going to do harm to someone else's flowers just because they aren't the same as mine. 

I am going to try every chance I can to create beauty and cultivate love.

I'm going to be cheesy and corny and tell you all that I love you.  Probably WAY more than you are comfortable with.

I'm going to hug more people and let them know that my heart would hurt without them.

I'm going to craft, and bake cookies and give those things to the people I care about.

I'm going to volunteer and take as many people with me as I can.

I'm going to try my flipping hardest to be the change I wish to see in this world.

I'm going to plant flowers and hope that MAYBE if we all plant flowers we will all see something beautiful when they grow.

I love you guys.  I've missed you guys!!

~ Mamy ~

2016! What Whaaaaaat??!

Hello Loves,

Oh man... it's been a while since I've updated this.  I'm so sorry.  I know I promised updates and I had every intention of keeping it up, but, it's amazing how LIFE gets in the way.  I'm going to keep trying though.  I haven't given up on it, just took a bit of a hiatus.

As most of you know, I hit a major milestone recently.

One year.  One whole year.  52 weeks, 365 days.  Insanity.

I can't even really believe it.  It feels like it was just yesterday and 10 years ago all at once.

I've lost over 200 lbs at this point.  This puts me at almost 1/2 the weight I was when I started this journey.  I think I'm 25 lbs away from LITERALLY being half the human I was a year ago.

 I haven't really been weighing myself lately mostly because I don't have a super steady place to put my scale, so the numbers change constantly... even when only a few seconds have passed.  Its been a bit too frustrating to keep guessing, so I put it away and have been focusing on other signs of weight loss.

I've lost a grand total of 5 clothing sizes.  Now... this may not seem like much to the average sized person, but plus size clothing is sort of a shit show.  The sizes are usually guess work and the differences between them are much larger than that of normal sized clothing.  Plus, if we're honest, the size I WAS wearing is no where near what I SHOULD have been wearing.  I was determined to squeeze myself into a size 28 despite the fact that my pants would literally be so tight they would cut my skin to the point of bleeding.  Ahhhhh the things we do for fashion.  If you can call it that.  Because, again, if we are honest, there isn't much in the way of plus size fashion.  You wear what you can get your grubby, chubby hands on and you be god damn thankful if it fits.

I'm currently wearing somewhere between a size 16 and 18.

Which blows my freaking mind.  Hand to god.  I SAY or TYPE those numbers and I KNOW that is the size of the pants I'm currently sitting in, but, it just doesn't actually click.

I still shop primarly at Torrid.  Because I really like the stuff they have to offer me.  But, I have also added Target and Old Navy to my list of favorite places to go.  Mostly because I like the PRICES they have to offer me.  I can get jeans that fit well for $24?  What??!  Is this some kind of trick or witchcraft?  I'm thinking witchcraft.  Or trick. Maybe witchcraft... probably that.

These seem like simple things to most of you, I'm sure.  Of COURSE you can buy jeans at Target or Old Navy.  Why wouldn't you be able to?  But, it's different when you are a size 28.  They don't carry that size in stores, or, if they do, the clothing isn't styled properly.  What do I mean by that?  Well... you can't acutally just take a regular size shirt and add more fabric to create a plus size shirt.  It doesn't work right that way.  There are curves involved.  It seems most places that don't specialize in plus size clothing don't recognize that phenomenon.  They prefer the "add fabric, charge extra" approach. So you end up with weird boxy-like garbage that looks like crap on you but you buy it anyway because, god DAMN it you just want a fucking shirt that has a cute design and isn't in gold lame and doesn't cost eighty-shit-snacking-dollars and you KNOW this is the only shirt that even fits your body within a 30 mile radius because NOBODY CARRIES YOUR FUCKING SIZE ANYWHERE.

Whoa... so glad I don't have to deal with that anymore.

Because I don't.

Because I don't wear that size anymore.

And I won't.  Ever again.

That is just one small example of things that have changed.  It's probably the smallest thing.  No pun intended.  Unless you're into puns, and then I totally intend.

My life has changed in ways I cannot even really begin to fully express.  I could write this blog for a million years and never fully explain it all.

I'm so much more MOBILE and active.  In big ways and insignificant ones.  I played a little softball over the summer and LOVED it.  I went on a date that involved a walk around a lake and, while terrified at first (residual fat girl fears) I ended up having a great time.  I don't mind walking up stairs or fear parking far away anymore.  I can walk through bars and crowded areas with MUCH more ease.  A day of shopping doesn't end with me wishing I could just sit down.  I went out dancing... all night... and woke up the next day and I could move.  I didn't have pain radiating from my toes to my hips.  Is THIS what normal girls feel like?  Just... pain free and okay?  I could get used to this FOR SURE.

I can cross my legs.  And I do... A lot.  I never get tired of the view. 

I bought my very first pair of knee high boots.  They are GORGEOUS.  Black, genuine leather, riding style boots.  I'm in LOVE with them.  Again... this is insignificant to most people, but when I was a size 28 my calves were too big for the average boot maker.  They were too big for extended calf boots.  I was left with specialty companies that KNEW my situation and used that to their advantage.  $80 for fake-leather-ugly-as-sin-peices-of-shit-uncomfortable-boots?  Duh.  Because you'll pay for them because it's the only option you HAVE.

I wear them with a cute pair of jeggings.  That are tight on my tookus and I think they look great on me.  What the actual fuck?  Who AM I?

I have a boyfriend now.  Which... is a thing that should probably be a blog all of it's own.  And I'm guessing will be.

I'm crazy about him. 

That's us at Ella's ballet recital.

I wish I could say that having him in my life wasn't a direct result of having gastric bypass surgery.  I wish I could believe that we would have found each other and he would have seen me and loved me no matter what, but, come on now.... we live in a world where to think that is Disney-esque horse-shit.  We all know better.  It's not pleasant to think that this person I love wouldn't have even given me a chance if we'd met a year ago.  It hurts a little... or maybe a lot.  Depends on how much I focus on it.   

He and I have talked about it, but we try not to dwell on it because there's nothing to be done.  It's not his fault.  I wouldn't have fucked me back then either.  And maybe he would have.  We don't know.  We CAN'T know.  It really doesn't matter anyway.  We found each other at the RIGHT time and we're happy NOW.

I'm just generally happier about everything in life.  I can handle the ups and the downs a lot better.  There is less tired.  Less depression.  More goodness.  More cheer.  More walks.  More snuggles.  More adventures...  Just... MORE.

I love you all.  I'll post more, I PROMISE!!

~ Mamy ~

It's possible this whole thing is fucking weird.

I am SO sorry, my sweet friends and loved ones.  I am NOT keeping up with this blog the way I thought I would!

But I'm here now, today, and have been working on this thing for a couple hours now trying to get all these thoughts in some kind of order.


First up.  Let's talk about the job thing.  It goes like this:  I still ain't got one.  I don't want to talk about it.

Now that we've gone through that, what's next?

WEIGHT LOSS UPDATE!!! 

I am down 180 lbs at this point. 

I am not losing as quickly as I was, but that is to be expected.  Because if I was still losing weight at THAT alarming rate I'd be dead soon.  Which was NOT a goal here.  I'm past the 7 month mark where everything slows down.  I knew this was coming and I'm not upset by it.  I look and feel better than I have in a LONG time and I'm running with it.

I'm down, size wise, to the point where I can do things like go into a regular-sized-person-store and just buy stuff.  Like a sports bra or a cute shirt. 

What the actual fuck???!

You mean... I can just walk in, find my size, and BUY it?   I don't have to order it online?  I can pick it off the rack and try it on?  There's no shipping?  No waiting and HOPING it looks good?  I can... know all that stuff ahead of time?  And, if I'm looking for something specific I can go to a different store to try to find it?  I don't have to just... get what's available where I'm at?

This is AWESOME!  And surprisingly overwhelming.  The last time I went to Old Navy I found myself wandering around with large eyes and fear in my heart.  There are so many options!  It was so chaotic!  But, it was a HELLUVA lot cheaper than LB or Torrid and I actually found a couple really cute tops. 


So... that's fucking bueno.


The weight loss is bringing about some side effects I wasn't actually prepared for.  Mostly in the form of... uh... male attention?

Before my surgery I weighed 453 lbs.  I was a BIG girl.

This didn't prevent me from finding at least one or two men who loved me.  Who treated me like I was made of magic and satin.  Who loved watching me running around in my undies and wanted to spend hours caressing my belly and gloriously bountiful ass.  They're out there, but they're hard to find, and not what I'm gearing up to talk about.


The things I'm about to say may seem harsh, but, please understand I'm striving for honesty and this blog is about me and my perspective.  I've spent 36 years in this body, watching the world through these eyes.

So... lets dig in.


In terms of male attention, prior to surgery, I was typically dropped into one of three categories.
1.  friend/sister
2.  totally unfuckable (and not worth time)
3.  fetish


So now I'm in this really weird place.  As I'm becoming more conventional/societal-y attractive I have been receiving more attention.  I am so used to being friend-zoned, ignored, or not wanting the attention I was getting that I have NO IDEA what to do.

More doors are being held open when I walk in a building.  More compliments come my way.  The bartender gets to me faster.  The store checkers are nicer.  Guys, just generally, seem to touch me more.  Elbows, arms, etc.  Little things I didn't know I was missing until I started thinking it was disturbing that the men folks were paying attention to me.  I LITERALLY had to have someone talk me out of thinking it was creepy as fuck that this guy was looking at me.  No joke.

Oh, here's something else... turns out I'm completely oblivious to flirting.  I literally don't even see it.  I can't even tell you how many times people have told me someone was flirting with me and my reaction is "He WAS?!? How could you TELL?".  But, according to feedback from those outside observers, it's happening more and more frequently.

I don't... I just don't know what to do.  hahaha.

I feel like a high school-er trying to play a grown-up's game.  I don't know the rules and, unfortunately, because I'm not ACTUALLY a high school-er, the other players THINK I do.

Also, let's be honest... I can't play games anyway.  I just don't have it in me.  I need blinking neon signs and no bullshit.

*sigh*  In summation:  I think this whole thing is fucking weird, I don't know what to do about it, and I'll probably stay single forever anyway because most guys don't actually carry around blinking neon signs that state that they are interested in me and... it's just fucking WEIRD.

I'm sure I'll talk about it more in upcoming blogs.

For now that's all I have to babble about.

I love you.  I love your faces.  You are the dreamiest!

Love,
Mamy.

Post move thinky thoughts

Well hello again, you beautiful internet wonders!

I know most of you have been eagerly  checking for a weight loss update and, I promise I will get back to those, but, recently, the event weighing most heavily on my mind (see what I did there?) has been this little move from Texas to Colorado.

Tim flew out to Texas and helped me pack stuff into boxes, boxes into truck, drive truck across Kansas. I honestly don't know that I would have been able to do that without his help. 

He and I are such opposites.  He was calm while I panicked.  He was logical, sense-making, and forward moving while I ran around my half-packed, unorganized, chaotic apartment in my underwear moving piles from one corner to another.  I can't tell you how many times he had to say, in his calmest and least exasperated voice "well... we're going to get it done either way, so stop freaking out."

His only request was that he not be forced to attend my going away party because he doesn't "do the crying thing well." I did not force him to attend the going away party.  He was spared the true horror of my ugly cry.

The same cannot be said for my Texas Framily. Because I DEFINITELY cried.  It was kind of inevitable and it was AB-SO-LUTELY the ugly cry.  The hiccup-y sobbing, scrunchy faced, red-swollen-peepers kind of cry.

I tried SO hard to hold it together, then Josh gave a toast and fuckered the whole plan up.

Mark Goode (father to some of my most very favorite people, excellent photographer, and general all around great guy) captured the moment perfectly in the image I'll post below because, despite my sadness, it was a beautiful moment.  AAAAAND, maybe also to prove I'm not afraid of my ugly cry.

I sent the picture to my mother who, as always, knew exactly what to say: "I'm so sorry your heart is breaking, but how lucky you are to have that kind of love". 

I am lucky beyond words and blessed beyond measure to have found my Texas Framily in the wilds of the interwebs.  They are truly brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews to me.  They are some of the great loves of my life, a huge part of my soul and I know that, despite these renewed miles, they will be there missing and loving me as much as I miss and love them. 

Which, incidentally, is a whole GD lot.  One might even say a metric shit-ton.

I'm going to endeavor to blog more now that I'm settled, but, for now that's all I got.

I love you guys.

~ Mamy ~

3 weeks and counting

Well hello there, friends!

Today I'm blogging about my move.

Wait?  You aren't going to talk about your weight loss journey today?

Nope.  Nop-itty nope nope.

So I was recently gifted a marvelous 2015-2016 planner by a dear friend who OBVIOUSLY knows me well enough to know how much I prefer to put pen to paper when it comes to plotting out my days.  This past weekend I went through and updated it and crafted the SHIT out of it and realized that I have 3 weeks left till my big move.

Egads.

I might have had a mini freak out. 

3 weeks?  Am I SHITTING me!?

I checked and rechecked the dates and, as it turns out, they did not change and I was right the first time.  There are only 3 weeks left.

This realization has caused me to jump into hyper packing mode.  Everything must go through a process with the intent of actually getting rid of MOST of my crap.  Have I used it recently?  Is it worth keeping?  Will someone ELSE use it?  Can I get any money for it?

This has worked remarkably well as most things have ended up in bags sent to Goodwill or other charities.

I've been donating most of my too-big clothing in the hopes that those items will find their way into the hands of someone who really needs them.  Finding plus size clothing on a budget is damn near impossible and were I a more enterprising individual I'd try to find a way to rectify that situation on a larger scale.  As I am not, I shall have to settle for just donating everything I can.

My apartment is about 50% packed, I'd say.  I'm stuck with my superficial belongings already in boxes and the stuff I might need un-packable at this stage.  I'll probably forge ahead and just hope I don't need to cook anything in the next three weeks. 

MICROWAVE AND PAPER PLATES BITCHES!

I'll probably blather on about my emotional state in my next blog.  Hint: Panic and sadness.  Bet you can't wait to read THAT one!

Mildly amusing side story:  I DID pack up my sort-of-secret drawer full of things that nobody talks about (but EVERYBODY has) and discovered several items that had passed their expiration date (condoms expire, people - pay attention to that shit) and a few things I have no desire to own any longer (don't ask).  The garbage man will have an amusing day should my trash bag break on collection day.

I... really hope that doesn't happen.

Time to get back to sorting.

Love ya's,
Mamy

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

Hello Loves,

It's been a while since I've talked about my post surgical adventures and I'm feeling bloggy so tonight I blog for you.

I decided to switch it up a bit because I always like to end with the good shit.

Let's get started, shall we??


THE BAD:
There isn't much to this list.

I still get sick pretty frequently.  My pouch, he is a fickle fucker.  Too much grease, too big a piece of food, any sort of bread and it's barf city.  Not cool.

Um... new clothes!  As awesome as it is to see my ass in skinny jeans that shit is expensive and my old clothes look like clown clothes on me now.  I'm pretty sure Sara told me "MAMY!  you have GOT to wear pants that fucking fit!"  and Ellie's exact words were "No.  No.  We're getting you new pants immediately".   So now I officially have 3 pairs of jeans that fit properly.  God help me when they don't.

But that's about all that's on the bad list.   

THE UGLY:
Me.  Naked.  In the mirror. 

I know... it sounds so harsh when I say it that way.   It's a trade I've made for a life that will be longer and fuller and I don't regret my decision, but, I started this blog with the intent of being brutally honest so honest is what I will be.

This is the part I THOUGHT I was prepared for.  I THOUGHT I was ready for when I started to notice things.  That I would be so happy with what I was losing I wouldn't even care about what I'd gained, but, that is DEFINITELY not the case.


I... don't know what to do with this body.  It's alien and misshapen and feels like it doesn't belong to me. 

My old body didn't fit social norms as something beautiful, but it was mine and I was used to it.  My rolls were full and soft and so were my breasts but now I have weird wrinkles and floppy bits.  Puckery scars, National Geographic tits and Jesus GOD what is happening to my thighs?!?!  And... Oh god... my upper arms have always been something I disliked about myself but now I LOATHE them.  They fill me with some strange feeling of honest to god horror.

My sweet friends sometimes bring up dating.  That I should start dating or try to date or online date or swipe right or whatever the hell it is the youngsters do these days.  I know it's because they believe I'm becoming more socially acceptably attractive with each pound lost, and they want me to be happy and in love, but the thought of showing naked me to anybody is some kind of nightmare.  And naked happens after dating, right? 

Maybe this is another blog for another time.  I don't want to be Debbie Downer.  The truth is I know this is all transition.  That things will tone and I'll get used to the pieces that don't and if I don't?  Well... better living through surgical intervention.  It's how I got here, right?

I hate ending a blog on a downer note.  It's not my style.  Which is why I switched up the lists a bit.  So on to the OH SO GOOD.

THE GOOD:
 I have lost a total of 141 lbs since my pre-surgical weigh in which means, according to my handy dandy weight loss comparison chart, I've lost somewhere between the the amount of refined sugar an average American eats in a year and the average weight of a 5 foot 4 inch woman. 

What the actual fuck?  I've lost a whole short woman.  Mind.  Blown.  Side note: did you guys know I'm NOT a short woman?  I'm pretty sure my thinning in the middle is leading people to realize I'm actually a bit on the tallish side.  I can't tell you how many people have commented on it lately.  Hell, I'M surprised at how tall I seem now.  Weird... but true.

Anyway, I'm able to feel this ENORMOUS loss in my joints and that is AMAZING.  I'm not as afraid of standing up anymore.  A surprisingly simple task for most people, but I was living a life where I honestly questioned whether I'd be able to stand again every time I sat down.  That was sad.  Sad for me. 

I can move.  I can bend and twist and turn and just ... move more easily.

These things mean I can see a future involving activities I once enjoyed. 

STORY TIME! 

Over the week of my birthday I spent some time in the beautiful state of Colorado.  I spent a good chunk of it with my friend Courtney and her fairly-fucking-awesome group of friends.  They play softball.  Now, most of the time I go to their games and happily watch them play.  Softball SuperFan! I enjoy it.  It is one of two sports I used to play and the only one I ever felt I was any good at.  Past tense.  Days long gone by.  This trip, with Court's constant encouragement, I decided to try my hand at some of the basics.  We went to the batting cages and played catch.  It was so great!  I could feel my body moving and functioning.  I was able to connect bat to ball and ball to glove!  Not with ease, exactly, but I could do it!!!  141 lbs heavier me would not have even tried.  It felt... liberating.  I wouldn't say I was GOOD, but I could position my body and catch the damn ball.  I wish... I wish there was a way I could adequately explain to you what this meant to me.  That I could find the words that would give you the feeling of giddiness I had when it turned out I didn't suck as much as I thought I would. 

My blood was carbonated and I was SO DAMN HAPPY! 

In theory, I'll play actual games some day.  Maybe I won't even suck. That would be pretty neat. 

What other good stuff?  Um... new clothes!  On two lists, you say?  Yes.  Yes I do. 

First pair of skinny jeans and they look fan-fucking-tastic on me.

Skinny jeans.  Me.  Whodathunk?

LOVE YOU GUYS!!
~ Mamy ~

Life bomb #3 - I'm heading home.

Hello Friends,

It's time to write about something that has been brewing.

A move.

MY move. 

Back home to Colorado.

As I type the words it's like I can feel the concrete setting around this little kernel of a plan.

I am... as with every decision I make EVER... totally terrified, but we'll get to that later.  I'm thinking I'll type the terrors up in a list so that when I read this again in a year I can check off each one as TOTALLY NEUROTIC.

I've been trying to tell people individually.  I didn't want to do a mass announcement, but, honestly, it's getting too stressful.  I don't like seeing the faces of my loved ones when it sounds like I'm saying I'm abandoning them, so I'm taking the cowards route now and blogging about it instead.

I'm making this decision for purely emotional reasons.  Lord knows moving to a state where the job market isn't tops and rent is through the roof isn't the smartest, most logical move.  I just... I miss my family.  I miss my babies.  They aren't even babies anymore and I miss them every day.  I don't want them to grow up without me.  I need to be a tangible part of their lives.  I miss my sister and my brother in law.  I miss my mom.  She doesn't live there, but she spends as much time as she CAN there and I'm missing out on that time.  I miss my friends and, fuck, I miss Colorado. 

Colorado is so beautiful.  It's looking out a window and having Mother Nature tell you it'll be alright, on even your shittiest day.  It's hikes with views that take your breath away even as you're begging your friends to go on without you.  It's The Star at Christmas.  It's gorgeous sunsets and cool nights and it generates a feeling of peace in the center of my being that my soul has been aching for.

I've been told it'll be easier to explain if I just tell everybody I'm moving back for the weed... maaan.

That's a falsehood... but one that people seem to accept with more ease.

I don't have a date yet.  It'll be mid-July. 

Mid-July.  God, that's SO soon! 

The excitement of moving back is tempered with a profound sadness at the thought of leaving the people I love here.  I won't be ready to leave them in July.  I know it.  I'll be a heartbroken mess because soon it will be them I miss and their babies who grow up without me. 

Can I handle missing framily dinners, late night backyard conversations and baby kisses?  Hearing Carter tell everybody I'm his best friend?  Or Edie telling me I'm beautiful in my dress and that she loves me?

Why is the screen all blurry and wibbly wobbly?

Shit.

I'm not good at emotion-ing.  

*sigh*

The point of this post was to announce my plan and to say a little bit about why. 

So I'll save my tears for later.

As always... I love you guys.
Mamy