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!