Oct 2016

Belt Lipectomy

Not sure that I spelled this word right…

It’s been a long time trying to get this weight off. My pics of me at my highest weight put it after 2001, because I’m wearing my collar. But, I’m not sure just how long ago. I do remember standing on the scale at the house in Grove City, and seeing 298 pounds and refusing to let it go any higher. It was right after that that I got sick. Let’s see, I would have gotten sick around ……don’t remember, but checking with my chiropractor. She will have the date around the weekend that I got sick.

When I got sick, my whole body changed. My thyroid herbal had stopped working, so she put me on an animal based one. My primary doctor had refused to put me on any meds for my thyroid because my numbers weren’t in the accepted range; nevermind that I had all the symptoms of hypo-thyroidism and  couldn’t drop any weight regardless how much I exercised and watched what I ate. So, my chiropractor put me on an herbal, saying that research pointed to numbers that my numbers would fall into. That helped some, until one weekend it didn’t.

Not only did the thyroid herbal stop working that weekend, but I started having stomach issues. I was diagnosed with H-Pylori. My elbow started hurting as well, which is a weird symptom. It ended up having to be fixed a couple of years later. All this stuff went wrong on a particular weekend. I remember this weekend. We had gone to a LARPing game. We set up the camper, paid our way in. Before I even got dressed, it all hit me like a ton of bricks. I laid down to rest that Friday evening and didn’t get up until it was time to go Sunday morning. Nothing could get me out of bed. Dan had to totally take the camper down and get it hooked to the car by himself. I sat in the car, totally out of it.

I went to the doc. They put me on synthroid and treated me for H. Pylori. But, my stomach still hurt. It hurt all the time. From the time I woke up, all day and throughout the night it hurt. For 3 years it hurt. I even ended up in the emergency room for the pain.  They couldn’t figure out what it was. Finally, a friend of mine with the same symptoms took a look at gluten. When I saw how it fixed her pain by cutting out gluten, I gave it a try. That was it! Gluten was the culprit of my forever hurting stomach.
By the time of figuring this out, I had dropped between 30-40  pounds. Since I didn’t want to get back to 298 pounds, I kept trying things to drop some pounds. My cycle had me losing a bit of weight and then gaining a little back; getting frustrated and losing some more and then gaining a little back.

Some of the stuff I tried that helped me stay motivated: walked 5k’s, trained and walked a half marathon, trained and then walked the Appalacian Trail for a couple of days, continued training to run 5k’s though I hurt myself more than once, spent a year with a personal trainer, ran a 5k. All of this helped, to where I lost 90 pounds. I’ve gained 20 of that back, per my pattern.
After all of this weight loss, I’m now frustrated with how my body looks.

It takes some getting used to. Though, I’m glad I took my time getting it off. I can’t imagine looking in a mirror and accepting myself if I had done the bariatric surgery. I actually took time at various points to slow down and get used to what I was seeing in the mirror.

But, once again, I’m not liking what I’m seeing. When I sit, I look like a melting snowman. When I put on costumes for our various events, they are too tight across the belly. All these pictures being taken and I’m not happy. If it’s from the waist up, sure it looks great. Anything that shows me from the waist down, makes it look like I haven’t lost any weight. It makes me very frustrated with the weight loss. And I really think that’s why I gained 20 pounds back. I was tired of being flabby and deflated looking.

So, I listened to a friend of mine that has had a belt lipectomy and made an appointment with her plastic surgeon. He’s a nice guy and very informative. I asked him how much I should lose, since I’d gained the 20 pounds back. He said he could do it now, but the closer I was to my goal weight the better the end results would look.

So, if I’m going to spend 10k on an elective surgery, I should follow the docs suggestions. It’s time to get this 20 pounds off again.

I bought a journal and create a plan, which lead to designing a spreadsheet to spell out said plan. I like it. It motivates me. Plus, walking to hatch pokemon eggs, plus being in challenges with my fitbit friends, plus the contest between Master and me; it’s all motivational. I’ve got 8 weeks.
 

Another idea I have is to create a video of the next 8 weeks. I’m looking for some before pics as well so that I can see the difference from 10 years ago and end with after surgery. The idea is really motivating. I wish I had put some dates with some of the pics though. Hopefully, I be able to guess close enough. 
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A Joyful Poly Moment

nd movie and told me to go to sleep. That he was going to watch part of it and then put me to bed. My bed that I only share with my husband, not the bed that I would share with Big D. I asked why and he said he thought I’d sleep better in my own bed. I’m not sure I agreed with that, it would have been nice to sleep in his arms. But, I was too tired to argue. I fell asleep in his arms on the couch.

After a while, he woke me up, and walked me to my bed. He tucked me in, laid down with me for a little bit and then kissed me good night. He made sure I was ok and then left for the night.


Arms wrapped around me would have been nice, but who could have asked for a more cherishing, romantic evening? I was too exhausted to move. He took care of me. I will always remember that, and fell in love with him all over again. 
There are some moments that just can’t go overlooked. Especially when looking at joys of polyamory. For some people, living a poly lifestyle can effortless. But, for many of us, it can be difficult as we swim through the waters of past baggage: fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of being replaced, fear of not being enough, fear of unworthy. Regardless of the fact that most of these are emotional baggage, not based on logic of the situation, they can be hard to work through. Polyamory can bring all these fears to the front. Because of that, many of us have work to do to make these relationships work.
 
So, when something good happens I like to document it. Whether it’s a moment that I’ve overcome one of my fears, or a moment that I’ve enjoyed with a poly partner. I’m so attached to my husband, my primary partner, that documenting awesome moments with my other partner/s deserves recognition.
 
I’ll be writing a book about this one day. I think there should be more stories of joy.
 
So, the one I’m writing about today, involves the boyfriend of 3 years; Big D is what we’ll call him. First, let me set the stage. My husband is away with his girlfriend on a cruise. Each year they do a big vacation and each year I have a rough time with it. This one was the longest trip yet and the first cruise, which only he and I had done before. Over the last 5 years or so, I’ve made sure to take a trip myself at the same time, so that I’m not home sulking. Usually, I would go back home to visit family, something he isn’t interested in doing. But, this year I had thoughts of just picking a neat place to fly to: Arizona, San Francisco, Key West, the turtle island in the Carolinas, somewhere. I was actually excited about the fact that he’d be gone and I could pick a place to go on my own. Traveling alone is certainly not my preference, but I had built myself up to giving this a try. Then, the shoe dropped. An event had been scheduled at our place of business, and the business partner that had scheduled it, wasn’t going to be in town. My husband had already paid for his trip and the other 2 partners were going to an important wedding for dear friends. That left me. Me with the undefined plans. I was going to have to stay in town and mind The Space. 

I was upset. No vacation for me this year. No trip so that I could deal with the fact that my husband was going to be on a cruise for a week without me. How the hell was I going to deal with this? And not only all of that, but I’d be the only Director on duty at The Space while this event was going on, which was an all weekend event. That meant sleeping on the futon in my office when I could.

So, I was up late Thursday night up The Space for the group renting it for the weekend. Things had to be set out and furniture put together. Also, after that, I packed my husband’s suitcase for his trip.  I do this so that I feel involved, even though I’m not. Up early Friday morning, worried about his trip because there were 2 hurricanes that could be involved in his trip. Plus, it’s my last time seeing him before he leaves and I wanted every minute with him that I could get. Then, I went to my day job. Left at 1pm to go shopping for things that were needed at The Space; trashbags and such. Then, off to the Space with my computer in the back seat of my car, my big gaming computer. If I was going to be in my office for hours, might as well get some gaming done.

I get to the Space, work with the group that is renting the building and then set things up in my office. Luckily, I had made arrangements with a friend that knows how to set up and move the furniture. So, he was going to come in and take over for me each night. So, Friday I went to my day job and worked 4 hours on 4 hours of sleep and then worked 9 hours at The Space. I couldn’t sleep once I got home. I had the friend come in and take over for a couple of hours so that I could go home and sleep. Sleep didn’t happen. I drank more than a half bottle of wine and watched Netflix. The dog wasn’t even home to snuggle with. She was at Grandma’s so that I wouldn’t have to worry about walking her and such. This makes it worse. No one home with me in that huge house, not even the dog. No sleep. I just don’t sleep well when he’s gone.

After finally getting a couple hours of sleep from pure exhaustion, I went back to The Space at 7am and was there until 8pm. I did get a little nap in on the futon in the morning, but that was it for the day. Too much going on and too many people to talk to to get much rest in. But, at 8pm Big D showed up to spend some time with me, since my friend would be taking over for the night. When he showed up he introduced himself to the couple of people that I was hanging out with during a break in the event. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I found out later it’s because he saw me wobbling. When there was a pause in the conversation, he told everyone that we were out of there and he was taking me home and putting me to bed. No one made jokes about that, instead they agreed that I should be put to bed, that I looked wiped out.
 
So, he took me home. He told me to take a hot shower, poured me a glass of wine, put a blanket on the couch for me to snuggle under after my shower and then went to the grocery store to pick up something for him to cook for dinner. I did as I was told. It felt so good to be taken care of during my exhausted, disappointed, low moment. I took the hot shower and cried because it felt so good to be cared about by someone. I’m sure some of the crying was from just being tired and missing my husband….and the dog. Big D came back, cooked an amazing dinner, poured me another glass of wine and snuggled with me on the couch. We watched a movie together with me practically laying on top of him while he stroked my hair. It was so warm and relaxing. I felt so loved and cherished. We laughed over the movie and snuggled. Then, he started a 2




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How the Hell Did I Get to 50?

Really?

More and more, recently, I’ve been thinking about that dreaded number…….50. I watched my husband get there and accept that number with grace. I’ve seen others turn 50 without a thought. Me on the other hand…..well….it’s hard to believe that I made it to 50 on one hand, and on the other hand when in the hell did 50 happen?
 
Since it struck me the other day that I’m 49, not 48, it’s been weighing on my mind. I’ve been trying to vocalize it more on my facebook pages and when talking to people. Maybe if I talk about it enough, it won’t traumatize me when I hit that number in May.
 
And it’s just a number, right?
 
But, 50.
 
How the hell did that happen? Assuming there isn’t a freak accident before then, it’s going to happen.
 
And what’s so bad about that? Why would I feel weird about 50?
 
Well, even in great health and with everything I’m doing to stay healthy now, I doubt I’m going to make it to 100. That means even now, I’m closer to the end game. Yes, I know each day I’m closer, but this number makes it more real. I’ve lived more life than I have yet to live.
 
And now I’ve become wiser, but I have less energy. I’m closer to my body starting to break down. Yes, we all age, but it doesn’t feel like it should be happening this soon. I still feel young damn it!
 
There are things I still want to do. Soon, they aren’t going to be easy to accomplish. As I get older, things will become harder to do. I don’t want that to happen.
 
Yes, I know I’m causing my own suffering by wanting things to be different. I’m only human after all.
 
I’ve actually started thinking harder about retirement. But, after the crash of 2008, we have nothing saved. Our house we bought then, was supposed to be our nest egg for retiring. Now instead, I may have to consider working at WalMart or such just to make it.
 
 
I guess if I look at it hard, I fear growing older. I fear having to work for much longer with a body that is going to start breaking down. I feel like a kid inside and want to keep jogging and biking and go-karting and ….well, everything I currently do, and more!
 
For some reason in my head, 50 feels like a benchmark number when I’m not supposed to be allowed to do these things. Instead of a fun car, I should buy a sedate sedan. Instead of traveling so much, I should settle down. Instead of enjoying a play or concert, I should put the money away so that I don’t have to work at WalMart when I retire.
 
When I tell new potential lovers that I’m about to turn 50, I kind of expect them to turn away, thinking I’m too old for them.
 
Ugh, 50, why do you haunt me so?
 

Though, it seemed to need to put this in writing so that I could see how silly I’m being. But, at the moment, I don’t feel silly…..I feel…..concerned? …..not sure what word to use for this feeling I have. Though, it’s ok. Like all things, I’ll see I’m causing my own suffering and will step back, become the observer, and change my way of thinking. It’s what I do. 

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