I think I've got a battery pack where my gall bladder used to be

Energizer batteries at that. By my second day postop I was feeling energy churning. I started decorating the living room for the holidays, cleaned the kitchen and the powder room, did two loads of laundry...and still had energy to spare. By the third day I was in overdrive, cleaning the dining room, master bedroom and bath, vacuuming...all the things I'd had to literally force myself to do for the past several months.

For at least a year I reported to my doctor that I was tired all the time. Exhausted. There were days when I would take two naps and still be sound asleep by 10:30 that night. I'd experience random bouts of a motion sickness-type nausea. At first it was contributed to my obesity and/or NSAIDs I was on for knee pain. Then it was due to recovering from lap-band surgery and after that it was because of the ulcer I'd had. Finally I started to think that maybe it was just plain ol' depression and made an appointment to see about increasing my anti-depressant. After all, we'd had sons in combat, family drama, worry over grandchildren. Depression made sense to me at that point, especially since all of my bloodwork was normal and there was nothing else to account for the symptoms I was having.

No disrespect to my regular doctor, but his not being available that day about a month and a half ago was a boon for me. Instead, I was scheduled to meet with his physician's assistant. Right away she gave had two suspects: gall bladder disease or another ulcer. Now, my doctor is a good one, but he's also the one who told me, when I asked, that it probably wouldn't do any good to go through allergy testing again since our bodies don't change in that regard. Yep, he was wrong about that too. As a result of my following up on my own, I recently found out that I have many, many allergies and was instantly started on allergy shots twice a week.

So, here's the dilemma that I faced. I was fat. Not only was I morbidly obese, but I was beginning to feel like a hypochondriac with my constant nausea and my every-two-months sinus infections. Because of my weight I hesitated to push for answers - somehow my weight translated into timidity . Simply put, I didn't feel I was worth putting the extra effort into and so didn't ask for or expect it from my medical provider. That's a mistake too many of us make.

As I've said before, taking control of my weight has empowered me in other areas, one of those being the care and wellbeing of me. I'm discovering my voice and learning to speak up for myself in different situations. I'm feeling better about spending money on myself for new clothes, quality skincare products, books and other fun things.

It's amazing how much of our sense of self worth can be tied up in the number shown on our bathroom scales. As Oprah once said, "My personality is not in my thighs." We agreed with her. Yet how hard was it for us to actually take that as our mantra and live by it? Pretty damned hard.

But one mistake I'll never make again is not listen to my body. Because honestly, I literally feel 10 years younger than I did just a week ago, and if I'd pushed, if I'd made my doctor listen to me and explore other options, then I could have felt this good weeks or even months ago.

Remember: WE ARE WORTH IT.

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

Literally. I am. I want a white Christmas this year. No dangerous roads allowed, though; my DIL wants to host Christmas dinner and we want to be able to get there. I don't want that icky end-of-snow stuff either, when it's all gray and smooshy and plain ol' depressing looking. I want fresh, crunchy, blindingly white snow. The kind that eases and breathes over the hills and hollows, following terra firma terra formingly. The kind of snow that makes you forget your age and indulge in snowball fights and the creation of snow angels.

I enjoyed Thanksgiving. Three of our four children were here (the missing one having the valid excuse of being in Iraq) as were some of our grandchildren. We laughed. We cried. We fussed. We bickered. We worried. We fretted. We yakked. A lot. I mean...A. LOT.

Tomorrow I'll go in for surgery to have my gallbladder removed. Is it totally strange that I'm looking forward to it? I haven't felt good for two or three months, living in a constant state of morning/motion sickness that was finally attributed to gallstones. One of the not-so-good results of weight loss. But I anticipate that by this time next week I'll be up and at 'em, feeling Christmasy and goodwill-to-all-ish, wrapping presents to stack under the tree and reveling in the spirit-deep certainty that I am a blessed woman. In spite of all odds, I'm with my husband, the man I love more than life itself. We have our four children and the children they've given to us through their marriages and relationships (yes Janie, Jessica, Andy and John, I mean you guys) and our eleven, going on twelve absolutely perfect grandchildren. We have our beloved furbabies and a home we're happy and content in.

So, on this first day of December, I'll remember Christmases past in all their glory and with all their ghosts, fill my heart with hope for Christmas present, and dream of Christmas future, when all of our family can be together again in all its boisterous, stressful, anxiety-producing and love-filled nuttiness.

Ghoul Food

Why, oh why, did hallowe'en have to fall during an especially stressful time? Why? Why? Why? I can resist the lure of mini candy bars. Oh yes, you Butterfinger bar, you devil you. I see you beckoning to me. I can taste your crunchy orange center and almost feel it sticking to my teeth.

Baby Ruth? You're not a baby. Babies are innocent. You're the devil with your gooey peanut center wrapped in chocolate.

Snickers? Ha ha! I snicker in the face of your attempts to woo me.

But Tootsie Roll? Tootsie, you're my weakness. I can't resist your pull. I can sniff you out no matter how well hidden you are.

Damn you Tootsie Roll...daaaammmmnnn you *melodramatic fist-shaking, shirt-rending, hair-pulling, ground-pounding tantrum ensues).

Sweet 16

I bought new jeans. Big deal, right? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it is a big deal. Hmmm. On second thought, it's a not-so-big deal. Why? Because this time last year I was wearing a size 24 and the jeans I bought are size 16's!! Whaaaaaahooooooo!!!!

Just to be sure it wasn't a fluke I took a trip and made the rounds of a few more stores, trying on more jeans, all size 16's. After all, maybe it was just the Ralph Lauren jeans I found for a steal at TJ Maxx that fit me. So, I tried on Lees. And Chaps. And Lane Bryant. All-in-all, about six different brands. THEY ALL FIT!!!

Aaaahhhh, results. Gotta love 'em!

My body is a onederland!!!

Okay, well maybe it's still more of a marshmallow mountain, but *drumroll please* I am now under 200 lbs. for the first time in a kajillion years! There are just no words to describe the sense of victory that overtook me the morning I stepped on the scales and saw the 2 replaced by that 1.

So, here I am, updating my blog for the first time in months. What took me so long, huh? Well, first it was discouragement. Then it was, well, discouragement. Sending both of my sons to Iraq derailed me emotionally. Here's a newsflash: just because a person seems to be handling things well on the outside, doesn't necessarily mean that they're feeling all that calm, cool, and collected on the inside. Plus, there was a wedding to tend to, my youngest grandbaby to spend as much time as possible with, and a new addition to the family in the form of a 4.8 lb. maltese puppy. Oh, and speaking of additions to the family, we were given the happy news that our oldest son and his sweet new wife are expecting their first child. That will be grandbaby #11 for us. Talk about blessed!

Without sounding pop psych-ish, the past few months have also been a time of learning and realization. One big realization for me was that I needed to let some dreams die. There are things I can't change, people whose decisions I can't override. I'm learning to let go of those hopes, those fantasies of what should be, of what I'd like things to be. Now I'm challenged to refocus those hopes and dreams and I'm succeeding.

Taking control of my weight was a big step for me in taking control of my life overall. Corny, I know. Again, pop psych-ish. But very, very true nonetheless. When I took control of my weight I also took control of my physical health, and when I feel better physically I feel better emotionally as well.

Sheesh. Now, I've got Elton John playing piano in my brain, singing "Circle of Life". Stop the insanity!

Until next time...

Well, spit...

Because I was still experiencing discomfort and vomiting, my surgeon's office set me up for an upper GI, which was performed this morning and showed a gastric ulcer. The result is that when I saw him this afternoon in his office he removed all the fluid from my band and has scheduled me for an EGD Friday morning. That test will give him a clearer image of the ulcer and he'll also be able to take biopsies and hopefully determine the cause. I've been on an NSAID for my knees for several years, and that's probably the culprit, although I had ulcers on two separate occasions in the past, long before I'd started NSAIDS and without any risk factors for developing ulcers.

So now I'm feeling more than a little discouraged. It will probably be 12 weeks before I'm cleared and will be able to continue use of my LAP-BAND. That's a long time for someone who has to fight for every pound she loses.

Oh well, we'll see what happens.

Backwards and forwards

I was so excited after my first fill. Losing about a half pound per day was awesome...and then I started having some problems. No, food wasn't getting stuck or anything like that, but I was experiencing epigastric discomfort that just kept getting worse and worse. By Thursday I was afraid to eat anything and by Friday I was starting to throw up. Now, everyone with a LB knows that you are not supposed to do that...ever. Finally, 10 days after the fill, the surgeon had to remove much of the saline he'd injected. That was followed by two days on a liquid diet and a gradual return to a regular foods. The upside is that the discomfort has subsided and only returns to haunt me when my stomach is empty - about 2 hours after a meal. The downside is that I've gained back about 3-4 of the pounds I'd lost.

As that saline was being pulled from my band I felt like I was taking a giant step backwards, but it had to be done. Now I'm hoping that by stepping back and giving any inflammation and irritation time to resolve, I'll be able to move forward again, albeit at a slower pace. That first fill of 1.4 cc was obviously too much; from now on we'll be "sticking" with (har! get it?) smaller amounts and seeing how it goes. I have another appointment with my surgeon next Monday. That gives me five days to see how my body reacts to it this time before we leave to spend a week out of town.

Now, here's a forward step that helps ease the frustration of the step back I had to take: I got a new outfit today...IN A SIZE 20!!!! That, friends, is a two-size difference from two months ago!

Like I've said before, this LB is a learning process. Things I read about and was told about have a whole new aura about them when you're actually living them.

See you next time...same bat time, same bat channel.

*Note to Self*

For the time being, remember to avoid:

1. Pills larger than a baby aspirin
2. Red meat, period. Even deli-sliced roast beef is verboten, at least for now.
3. Turkey bacon

Working at the relationship

It finally occurred to me that having this LAP-BAND is a lot like any other relationship. I'm learning about my band, learning how to live with it and adapt my life to work in unison with it. I'm learning its quirks and how it isn't always in the same mood at the same time every single day. It has its ups and downs, its good qualities and bad. But thank goodness the good outweighs the bad and everything I put into this relationship comes back to me multiplied. My body is developing a whole new language, starting to work in concert with the band. There are things I love to eat, things that are healthy choices, like apples (even peeled and sliced) and turkey bacon, that my band can't tolerate and so are banned from my life, at least for the time being. The next time I need an antibiotic it will either need to be a very small one or in liquid form, because my band doesn't do well with capsules.

It's a give and take, a balancing act and a lesson in compromise. We won't always get along or agree with each other's choices, but we'll work at it together until we can come to a mutual understanding.

Today's weight: 211.6 lbs.

Wow! Yippee! Wha hoo!!

The weight has been sliding off since my fill five days ago, but I'm still trying to learn to work with my band. One of the most important things I've learned is as soon as I feel the beginning of discomfort in my chest, STOP EATING. It doesn't matter if I've only taken two bites of my turkey bacon or a half cup of chunk chicken...STOP. If I don't, I'm double-dog guaranteed to end up with a pressure type of chest pain that literally stops me in my tracks. I don't feel that the food is stuck at that point, it's more a feeling that it's just sitting in the upper stomach taking up space and will hurt until it's digested.

The downside is that I'm hungry again within an hour after eating, which probably means I need a bit more fluid in the band. I'll call or e-mail the nurse today and get her opinion.

An oddity to me is the way my weight loss seems to be different than other times I've managed to lose. When I was this weight the last time (about two years ago) my 22's were tight and my rings were too. Now my rings are slipping and sliding on my fingers and my 22's are a tad baggy in the seat. My 2x shirts are starting to fit looser too; my DIL pointed out that my jacket looks like it's just hanging on me now. Weird.

Today's weight: 213.2 lbs.

Well, that was easy!

I'd sure worked myself into a dither worrying about my first fill, or "adjustment". It didn't help when the doctor himself said I may experience some discomfort the first few times. But I'll tell you what, it was a cinch! I hardly felt anything; certainly much, much less than having blood drawn. Heck, it was less than poking yourself with a needle. I know that there are people who have a problem with fills, who experience discomfort or even pain. So much of it comes down the skill of your surgeon. Dr. K is the first bariatric surgeon in our area and I'm grateful every day for the perfect timing of my surgical process. He's not one to spend a lot of time with you (he's too busy for that), but I'm the type of person to find his no-nonsense manner reassuring.

Today's weight: 216.2

ETA: This morning I tried on some of my old size 22's...and they fit! Comfortably! I mean, I can breathe in 'em! I haven't been able to wear this size in almost two years. Now, I realize that to some of y'all, a 22 is still pretty humongous. Heck. What am I saying? To me it's still pretty humongous. But doggone it all, a victory is a victory and I'm grateful for every single bit of progress.

Okay, who spiked my decaf Splenda-sweetened tea...

...with Red Bull? It's as if my energy levels have returned to normal literally overnight.

Hally loo yah, it's a muracle!

I was feeling significantly better at five weeks postop when I got hit by another *#&#(@_&#! sinus infection that knocked me for a loop and kept me down for almost a week. But this afternoon? This afternoon? This. Afternoon?!?!?!

This afternoon, for the first time since my surgery, I feel like my brain and my body are awake. My brain is buzzing with things I want to get done around the house. I want to go get my nails done and have my hair styled.

I feel like me again, only "new and improved".

Okay, this is confusing

I spent days obsessively recording every bite of food and sip of liquid, every minute on the treadmill and every weight lifted, and then I got sick with another blasted sinus infection. All I wanted to eat or drink was acid-y stuff, mainly tomato soup and orange juice. Now, those are Bozo no-nos for a bandster because they're considered empty calories, passing right through the smaller upper stomach to the lower portion without contributing to satiety or fullness.

But for whatever reason, it seemed to kick my weight loss back into gear because I lost the two pounds I'd gained when I restarted regular foods plus a little more.

Oh well. I reckon I'll get fussed at for not following the band rules when I go back to the doctor Wednesday, but at least the scales will show progress.

Today's weight: 217.2

Do the limbo

Crap. Double crap. Triple crap. To infinity and beyond crap. With the reintroduction of regular food (sans bread) into my diet, has come a whole new level of caca, poopoo, doodoo, crappy discouragement. This is where logic and emotion come to a parting of the ways, flipping each other the bird and stomping to their separate corners of the psyche, sporting storm clouds over their heads, grumblin' and cussin' as they go.

Logically I knew this would happen. I understood that my weight loss would, in all likelihood, stall and that I could possibly even gain some weight back. After all, I haven't had my first fill yet so restriction is nowhere at hand. Heck, most people don't even get restriction 'til at least the third fill.

Emotionally though? Now that is a different matter. Emotionally I'm thinking "Hey! Fatso! What's the use of eating 2 ounces of this and 1 ounce of that? What's the use of skipping those damned good cake balls your daughter made? Why are you making me suffer like this? Why? Why? Whyyyyy???" This is accompanied by the usual rending of garments and tearing out of hair (it's not lack of protein that causes some LB patients to lose their hair, it's frustration).

But what's a gal to do, huh? Surgery ain't fun. I sure don't want all the months of medical appointments and exercise and weight loss compliance to be for nothing. So I do what the majority of LAP-BANDers do. I keep plugging away, logging every bite and sip I take, every step I take on the treadmill and every weight I lift, into a journal. And I wait...I wait for the first fill, or the second fill, or the third...however many it takes before progress is made and I begin to see the real benefits to putting myself and my family through the worry of an elective surgery.

Today's weight: 220.2

The hokey-pokey really isn't what it's all about

After anxiety-ridden, nail-biting, stomach churning days of girding myself up for my first fill it didn't happen. Nope, no fills at four weeks postop, but...oh yeah, it gets good here...I can eat regular food again! Oh joy of joys! Happiness of happinesses! Bliss of blisses! (No, wait - that sounds too much like "blintzes"). There are, of course, guidelines to choose those foods by and rules to be followed. Plenty of protein. None (or very limited anyhow) calorie-containing beverages and liquids. That's okay. I knew this was coming and had already set about changing my mindset towards food. That's not to say this is going to be easy. Reintroducing regular foods into my diet creates its own challenges, but I'm prepared.

Now, if I can just get over the jitters thinking about the fill I probably will get in two weeks.

Giddy-up

As the week progresses, I become more and more giddy. Getting my first fill in just a couple of days means that shortly afterward I'll be able to move beyond liquids and "mushies" to real food again. Oh, I know that I won't get restriction until I've had a few fills and that I'll have to continue measuring and doling out my 2 oz. of food, but...

...I'll be able to enjoy taste and texture again. With that in mind, I've actually started going through my recipes, planning healthy, well-balanced meals. Because my intake is so limited I want to prepare things that taste good. I don't want eating to be an exercise in denial; I want it to be a celebration of health and taste and flavor and texture - a step toward ensuring that HH and I enjoy a long and active life together.

Salmon. Grilled salmon. With a tangy sauce. Oooooh yeah.

Sorry - didn't mean to drool. I need to borrow one of the grandbaby's bibs.

Fill 'er up

As nervous as I am about my first fill a week from today, I'm also starting to really look forward to it. Now, how weird is that, huh, to be looking forward to having a long, skinny needle stuck through my flesh? My peace of mind is hinged on how competent my surgeon and his staff have been so far and my confidence that this will continue through my after-care.

Anyhow, the way I understand it is that I won't come anywhere close to having a full fill until several months have passed. Small amounts are injected to help reduce the risk of blockage or irritation to the stoma or stomach.

Because the process seems to vary so much from doctor to doctor, I won't really know how it'll work until I see my surgeon against next week.

Since my weight loss seems to have stalled, I'm going to try to taking in a few more calories today. I can't go any lower and still function through the day, so I'm hoping that a little more protein and a few more calories will get kick my body out of this stalemate.

Today's weight: 221.2 (-14.6)

The good, the bad, and the ugly

First, the good. I went into two different stores today and tried on two different styles of pants and both, yes, count 'em, one, two, both were a size smaller! Not only were they smaller, but in the bottom and in the front at the top of the thighs, they were "bunchy". You know, that excess fabric that makes you look like you have a second stomach? Or, in my case, third? So maybe (geez, it's hard to type with my fingers crossed), just maybe, I'll be able to fit into more of my "outgrown" clothes by the spring. I hope so 'cause I've got some doggoned cute capris I've been itchin' to wear!

The ugly is that the scales only showed a .2 lb. weight loss this morning. I'm still using http://my-calorie-counter.com (I highly recommend paying the $5 a month for full use of this site) and I'm taking in well below 800 calories a day. Something's gotta give and I find I'm starting to look forward to the first fill.

The bad is that I almost had a meltdown in Wal-Mart today. I was tired after running some other errands, and I mean I was whupped. I'd checked everything off my list except Velveeta. Yes, Velveeta. Of all things to get upset over, I had to choose that yucky loaf of processed yellow schtuff. All I wanted to do was find that hunka cheese and go home. Is it in the macaroni and cheese section? Nope. In the refridgerated case with the other cheeses? Nyuh-uh. It was across the aisle from the Mexican food products. In some ways it makes sense, and in other ways not a lick. At least I was able to get everything I needed and make my way through the checkout line, holding the tears in until I was safely in my car with my sunglasses on and the Kleenex with lotion handy.

There's such a push to return to your normal activities as soon as possible after LB surgery. That's great because it keeps wimps like me from lying in bed, wallowing in self-pity and a pain medication-induced stupor. But it can also leave you feeling like you need to justify a rest time each afternoon, maybe a little snooze if you can work one in. It's almost like you're expected to overlook the fact that you've undergone major surgery and you're not eating very much and your emotions are up and down and here and there and hither and yon...all over the danged emotional map. Personally, I felt that I should be up and kicking into Molly Maid mode by a week postop, but that didn't happen. I was simply too tired.

So I'm learning to listen...to me. To my body. When my body says rest I'm going to listen. I'm not lazy. I'm not a hypochondriac. I'm a woman with a lot going on in her life whose body has been through a lot in the past few years.

And I really don't want to cry over processed cheese food.

Today's weight: 221.4

So this is hell

Banded hell, that is. And here I was, bein' so all-fired happy that I seemed to be avoiding that dreaded phenomenon. Please bow your head for a moment of silence in honor of my fallen hopes.

I'm not gaining, which is a relief, but those scales aren't movin' downward anymore either, so bite me Fergie, big girls do cry. The hunger pangs have been increasing too, so I'm trying to make some modifications to my diet of "mushies". For instance, mashed potatoes is on the list of food suggestions my surgeon's office gave me for Phase II. Yesterday I opted for fat-free refried beans instead (they're the same consistency and the beans have just 100 calories in 1/2 cup), then added a teaspoon of fat-free sour cream (I almost typed whipped cream - yuck!) and about a teaspoon of shredded fat-free cheddar cheese. The total caloric intake comes out to about 120 calories and it's much more filling than potatoes. At this point, foods like yogurt, applesauce, and pudding don't seem to be contributing toward a feeling of fullness, so I'd rather forego those things and go with foods that are appropriate in texture and substance but higher in protein and stick-to-your-ribs-edness. I'd like to try grits next 'cause I'm not fond of oatmeal and when you eat so little you want to at least like the taste of what you're putting in your mouth. In my drug- and nausea-induced haze the morning of my discharge from the hospital, I have a vague recollection of being told that the foods on the list are guidelines anyhow (please Lord, don't let that be wishful thinking).

Yesterday was my first physical therapy post-op appointment. I opted not to do the aqua therapy at this time 'cause the hotel pool they use is about a 30-minute drive from my home, and with gas prices the way they are...well, 'nuff said. For the time being I have exercises to do for my knees and upper arms and will be steadily increasing my time on the treadmill. Also, I need to bring my recumbent bike in from the garage, dust it off, and give it another go to see if my knees can tolerate it a little better now.

My youngest grandbaby, who just turned one, thinks it's hilarious to watch me on the treadmill. She sits there and watches me walk, grinning the whole time. "Silly Mamaw, don't you know you're not going anywhere?"

The treadmill has been a boon. I'm up to 25 minutes per day at 2.5 mph and plan to take that up to 30 minutes by the end of this week. Once I'm at that point I'll start to add an incline and see how that works out for my achy breaky knees. Yesterday was my post-op physical therapy consult.

It's funny (in a non-funny kind of way) how some people think weight loss surgery is an easy out for people who don't have any willpower. If they only knew how much self-discipline it takes they'd be laughing out their *expletive deleteds*.

My reward is in seeing my size 3x jammie bottoms getting baggy to the point where they about fall off and having my daughter-in-law tell me that the size smaller shirt I put on last week is already starting to look too big on me this week. Of course, the non-reward part is that "the girls" are the first part of my upper body to lose, and they were small enough to begin with.

Another drawback is that I can do okay during the day (although two straight hours of running errands is still pretty tiring), but by 5:00 in the evening I'm whupped.

Emotionally I'm holding strong and steady. I still don't have a single regret about opting for surgery. As a matter-of-fact, I'm pretty proud of myself. It's a weak person who sits in a corner moaning and groaning about things being the way they are. It takes strength and determination to get out of that corner and do something about it.

Hmmm, maybe I should change my name to Rocky Fatgoa. Har!

Waaaaaaaahhhh aaaahhhh ahhhh waaaahhhh!!!

Two-tenths of a pound? I'm taking in less than 500 calories per day and only lose two-tenths of a pound? *Waaaaaahhhhhhhhh snivel snivel sniffle waaaaaaahhh*

Think I can blame it on my 20 minutes on the treadmill yesterday? I mean, c'mon, muscle is heavier than fat. Okay, hold on, now I'm laughin'...*whoo hooo haw hahahah hee hee whoo hoo hoo*

Today's weight: 221.6 (-13.4)

Slip slidin' away

My jeans, that is. A pair of jeans that I'd outgrown two months ago and could just squeeze into one month ago, are now loose enough around my waist that they slip and slide and drive me bonkers. Walking around the store this morning shopping for groceries, I had to keep pulling my britches up. I'm not quite ready for the next size down, but I still count this "slippage" as a victory.

Today's weight: 221.8 (-13.2)

Guess who's coming to dinner

We sent our son out the door this morning, headed off to prepare for his return to Iraq. HH and I have decided that the best way to make these next 400 days go by faster is to keep as busy as possible. I'll probably burn up this blog, I'll be yakking so much. Anyhoo....

...a lot of folks have been asking about my post-op LAP-BAND diet so I figured I'd post it here. It's important to remember that the kind of diet you're allowed post-surgery varies a lot from surgeon to surgeon; I hadn't realized just how much until I found a LB forum and saw the wide variety posted. But here are the guidelines I received from my surgeon: The first week postop was a full liquid diet, which included cream soups (with no bits thicker than could be sucked through a straw - even though you're not allowed to use a straw anymore, ever), protein drinks, Carnation instant breakfast, skim milk, pudding, unsweetened applesauce, and mashed potatoes very, very thinned out with milk or water. I will tell you truthfully that by the end of the first week, although I wasn't hungry, but I was starting to miss texture. Actually, I was on that diet for nine days rather than seven, just by virtue of my follow-up appointment date. The maximum intake per day was set at 48 ounces. No more than 24 ounces of that could be from the calorie-containing list and at least 24 were to come from the non-calorie containing list (decaf tea with artificial sweetener, flavored or plain water, etc.). Since last Friday, which is when I entered Phase II of the LAP-BAND diet, I can eat scrambed eggs, moist white meats like chicken, turkey, and fish (pureed), soft-cooked vegetables that are pureed, soft fruits that are pureed ( are you seein' a pattern here?), mashed potatoes, cottage cheese, and V-8 juice. No gas-producing foods! I can eat these foods up to five times per day with a limit of no more than 2 cups per day. The amount to be taken in at any one time is 2 ounces. There's no limit on non-caloric intake, which is a real boon for me since I sip on water all day long.

I think that the reason I'm not experiencing "bandster hell" is because my surgeon does allow a rather generous eating plan. From what I've read at other sites, some surgeon's keep patients on full liquids for 2-4 weeks. Being allowed to have meat, fruit, and vegetables means that I get the sensation of having a full meal if I balance the ounces I take in just right. One ounce of protein paired with a half ounce of veggies and a half ounce of fruit means I can eat what my family eats, just not as much of it.

Another thing that's helping is the motivation that comes from seeing the scale move downward some each day.

Today's weight: 222.2 (-12.8)

These boots were made for walkin'

Well, these sneakers were anyhow. Good thing, too, 'cause yesterday we finally bought the treadmill we've been watching for a while. I did my research and made my choice. When it's carpet shampooin' time, I can fold it up and roll it to the side. It's got automatic incline and several built in workouts. It's got the quiet-belt feature (or somethin' like that anyhow), and the belt is padded as well, which my knees will be grateful for. It's going to go in my bedroom. Yep. In my boo-dwah. Working from home the way we both do, most of our days are spent in our office, which is upstairs. The bedroom is just a few steps away, so I can walk down the hallway and watch one of my favorite shows while doing something good for myself. So go ahead, Mother Nature! Rain! Snow! Sleet even! Shake n' bake! I can still get my daily exercise!

New Year's Day weight: 223.4