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 ~