Tag Archives: bariatric surgery

6 Weeks: Getting Stronger **Graphic Images**

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These are suppose to be my ‘goal jeans’ but I can button em soooo I wore them out yesterdays. Bam! Holy booty batman. Size 29 low rise bell bottom jeans!

These last two weeks have seemed to drag on and pass too quickly all at the same time. Physically, I’m getting stronger. I feel a little better; a little more like myself each day. I haven’t been sleeping too well lately. I know I have a lot on my mind. Like I said in my previous post, March is an emotionally heightened month for me.

I can’t believe in just a couple weeks, I’ll be 30 and Paul and I would have celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary. It’s rough to think about. And still seems unreal. His picture sits on our mantle and sometimes I just look at it and kinda have a conversation with him. I don’t believe he is here in any sense other than my own memories and the memories of others; but there’s some type of comfort in ‘talking’ to him. I was doing my crunches the other day and I looked up and saw that picture: I was like bet you’d never believe you’d see me doing this so diligently. And I kinda chuckled. Then I was sad. I’m sad now.

Lisa and I just celebrated our 1st anniversary. Wow. Let that sink in. I can’t believe it’s been a year; in so many aspects. She is incredible. We have such a good time together. We don’t fight or argue. We don’t lack passion. She gets me. We just enjoy each other’s company. She makes me want to keep pressing forward and supports my healthier lifestyle (even when I don’t want to). We have already had so many adventures and both ventured outside of our comfort zones and never once regretted it. We are going to the Bahamas in less than 2 weeks and we are beyond thrilled. On the flip side, it’s been a year that I’ve been with someone other than Paul. It’s been 480 days since I saw Paul; since I heard his voice. I think he’d want me to be happy. In fact, I know he would. Despite knowing this, it doesn’t make it any easier. I miss that goofy guy.

I have had several follow ups with my physicians and had my concerns addressed. I spoke to my primary doctor about my weight (number) obsession and where I need/supposed to be. She told me that she thinks it is absolutely reasonable to get to a weight which would allow me to NOT have a diagnosis (i.e. overweight). According to the BMI, she would like to see me at 147lbs. I am currently weighing in at about 158. As per my plastic surgeon, I am ‘allowed’ to lose up to 12lbs without worry of disrupting my plastic surgery. And I have, approximately, 7-10 lbs of skin left to remove. Anyways, those are the numbers. I know a lot of you don’t agree with watching the numbers. But when we completely ignore the numbers, it’s easier to slip. It’s easy to add a lb here, a lb there until we have now packed on 20 lbs or more. I’ve done it so I know first hand. The scale is not a measurement of who you are. It is merely a measurement of how much you LITERALLY weigh. I choose to use it as an accountability tool; not as a means to define me as a person but, rather, as way to keep me on the track I worked so hard to be on. My dietitian and exercise physiologist have agreed that weighing weekly is a good way to stay on track. It works for me. So that’s what I plan to do.

6 weeks

My plastic surgeon told me that the skin at my elbows is normal and allows room for my elbow to bend. I didn’t really  believe him so I’ve been checking out EVERYONE’S elbows that I pass. And, more often that not, that skin is there except on the very skinny people. Weird. I’ve never noticed before. He told me to continue to take it easy on my arms, that they are healing still, and to pay close attention to my elbows as to not bump them. That piece of skin under my right arm is a ‘dog ear’ which is a fairly common complication with skin removal. He told me that it’s easily fixed in the office but would like to give my body 8 more weeks to heal. My right boob is so much better. The bruising is gone but it hasn’t completely settled down. It’s still sore and hurts. My t-rex arms are getting better. I can reach things a lot better now. I’m still numb on the lower half of both breasts and the backs of my arms. It makes it difficult to get comfortable. I still am having to sleep on my back and prop my arms on pillows to be comfortable. It’s difficult to explain. It’s not necessarily painful (on my arms; it is on my right boob) to put pressure on it; it’s just weird because it’s numb. Like, I can feel, internally, that pressure is being put on my arms but I can’t actually feel it superficially. It’s not a pleasant sensation.

Arm progression
I’m super pleased with my arm incisions and my range of motion is improving.
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Going out for the first time since surgery. First time EVER to go out without a bra!!

I’ve stayed on track with exercising. I’ve done a minimum of 200 crunches every night for over 2 weeks. I’ve now incorporated arm training and squats (alternating days). It feels pretty good. I’m really hoping to get more consistent on my morning walks but I’ve just been so tired from not sleeping well that it hasn’t been happening like I’d like it to but I do plan on going tomorrow morning.

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Not noticing much progression but I’m feeling better.

Boobies on the Mend: 3 Week Post Op & Reflection

Oh man. Where to start? It’s a long week or so.

Let’s start with my physical stuff. So, my right boob has been concerning. On February 2, my supervisor went to take her jacket off, turned and accidentally ‘punched’ me in my right boob. If you recall, my right boob required more reconstruction than my left and has been more painful and not exactly aesthetically pleasing. When this happened, it knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t really put 2 and 2 together at my 2 week post op appointment when the medical assistant questioned the new bruising on the 4th. At work the following day is when I realized the two were linked so I called my doc. The bruising progressively worsened and they wanted to see me the following week. I had my 3rd week follow up this past Wednesday day. He squeezed and manipulated my breasts. It was awkward since I don’t have feeling superficially to below my nipple. He told me I had 2 hematomas and that he could feel that an internal suture(s) ripped causing the bleeding. He needed to evacuate it! He stuck a 2 in. 18 gauge needle through my incision around my nipple and moved the needle around, pulled back on a 20 ml syringe trying to find the pocket. He got out 5 mls of dark red blood. Nothing else. He felt again and said he need to try again but would have to go through the breast. Eek. He attempted 3 additional sticks. Ouch. Although I have no feeling on the surface, I do have deep sensation. I started to sweat and turned ghost pale. He wasn’t able to get anything else out, sadly. He told me to just watch it and that it’d hopefully resolve. He was concerned regarding the possibility of infection. Since my appointment, my bruising has significantly reduced and the color is now green so I’m happy about that. His assistant called me yesterday to check on me and my doctor is still concerned so he has started me on a round of antibiotics. Better safe than sorry.

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Current boobies! Bruising is SOOO much better today! The itching has begun! 2/14

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Otherwise, my incisions are healing well, I’m sleeping better (no more night sweats), I’m rarely requiring tylenol and the tape residue is ALMOST gone. My incisions are so fine and I’m excited to see the end result. The only source of pain is still under my arms. Constant bending of the incisions and chaffing is sometimes unbearable! My doctor told me it was my compression garment so I’ve tried just sleeves. Nope. I’ve tried gauze. Nope. I’ve tried bandaids which have helped the most buuuut then they chaff my actual armpit. Ugh. The struggle. Now, I’m using zinc oxide (baby butt paste which is helping). My 4 weeks is Tuesday and I no longer have to wear my compression sleeves unless I want to! That’s exciting and no compression garments does feel best on my underarms. Although, I still don’t have feeling to my incision sites to about a quarter inch on both side of it so it’s a weird sensation. And it makes me paranoid that it’ll rub on somethings so I’m now wearing long sleeves and I foresee me wearing compressions at work this week but we will see.

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3 Week Arm Incisions are faint!!
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The arm crease is the most painful. Still numb on the underside of my arm.

 

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Exciting! I get to wear a bra!

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I had my first therapy session post operatively. It was much needed and very over due. I feel like I word vomited all over her the moment my booty hit the couch. I’ve been struggling. My anxiety has been on high. Feeling a bit depressed. Feeling upset that I’m upset. And isn’t that some shit? Not only to have these feelings but to, also, have feelings about the feelings. It’s a bitch! I’ve been missing Paul more intensely. I feel guilty. I feel alone. It’s all a bit over whelming really. In my session, I said multiple times “I’ve wanted this as long as I can remember and these feelings are absurd. ABSURD!” Her first response to me “how about you give yourself permission to feel the way you feel?” I sat back. Sighed. And thought ‘well isn’t that a novel idea?’ Ha ha. It’s literally never occurred to me. And I let that thought soak in and I said ‘okay’. As she summed up what I said, the series of events is very overwhelming and the thought comes to me ‘well holy fuck dude. That’s kinda like a lot’. And Lisa has told me most of these things but I guess there’s just something about the third party, impartial somebody saying it that makes it stick. She reinforced that my mind, my heart, my body has been through a lot in this past year. She told me that I’m now having to grieve the loss of my ‘body’ while in the midst of grieving over my husband. It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to say I’m not where I want to be. And in the moments of chaos, it’s hard to realize that it won’t always be this way. I won’t ALWAYS feel this way. I won’t ALWAYS feel out of control. Eventually, it will pass. She also brought up the point that I’m not as active as I’m used to being which effects my mind and body. I’m a very independent person that is temporarily at a point where I’m having to ask for help and not in a big way…in the small ways and that has an impact. Man oh man. I needed that reality check.

My mom gave me this little sign over a year ago that says: “You can do ANYTHING. You just can’t do EVERYTHING”. I think I have to realize and accept my limitations. I have to learn to be okay with them as they are a part of me and make me human.

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Where’s my satisfaction? Where’s my happiness?

**Right boob update: so the mystery is solved. I had forgotten that 3 days ago, a co-worker accidentally punched me in the right boob. I was following behind her and she went to take off her jacket and **whack** right in the right boob where all the bruising is! It knocked the wind outta me. I’m thankful that we figured this out. And don’t be hard on my co worker–it was totally an accident, she’s amazing! She even drew on my boob to outline the bruise so I could track it’s progression/regression!

“Wow” “I don’t even recognize you” “You look amazing” “You have done so much”. These are all common compliments I get from a multitude of people. I wanted to take a moment and just thank everyone for all of the support. I truly appreciate it.

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Size 7/9 jeans. Low Rise.

 

Today, I visited my old floor. I transferred about 4 months ago. It always feels like home when I visit even though there are so many new faces. When I visit, I always hope for some juicy trauma drama gossip but my weight loss and surgery usually are the topic. I’m sure that’ll change over time. I enjoy talking about my journey; it’s been a long one. I love talking with these wonderful women who have known me since 2013 and have seen me at my heaviest and they were there when I started my weight loss journey and when Paul died, they were there to pick to me up. They have shown me unconditional love and compassion and support and I’m eternally grateful to these wonderful ladies. So, it should not come at any surprise that they are all just so absolutely supportive and positive towards me and the progress that I’ve made with my health, weight and body transformation.

Today, I was met with all smiling faces and kind words. I have been just a bundle of emotions  since the beginning of the year (well, really since November 12, 2014–if I’m totally honest) and it has peaked since having surgery. I’ve touched on it a bit in a previous blog but this plastic surgery has really messed with my head. I was fully prepared for pain and recovery; I wasn’t prepared for exhaustion and mental torture. Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but, at times, that’s exactly what it feels like. I was all ready to knock this plastic surgery out and get to where I want to be but I’ve had a reality check.

I’m struggling with my identity and who I see in the mirror. I will never forget: standing in the shower. Naked. Lisa standing by to help me get my bandages/dressings off. I felt the water run down my body. I look to my left and, in the mirror, there she is; that girl. Frankenstein girl. Incisions. Perky boobs. Thin arms. I can see a her rib cage. And the room spins. I’m dizzy. Disoriented. My hearing is muffled. I’m slightly nauseated. And, for a second, I thought I’d pass out. Lisa helped me to the bed. I can’t remember the steps between the shower and my bed. And I laid on my back, on my bed, eyes shut. And I hear her calm voice, “it’s okay. I’m here”.

I’ve worked so hard and made a lot of sacrifices to get where I am today. I feel like my whole life has built to this point. I loved Paul; I love Paul. I will say it over and over because it is always true and pertinent. Although, as most know, it was never my ‘dream’ to get married or to have a family. Don’t get me wrong, I just want to be clear; I’ve said it many times: he was the dream I never knew I wanted; he was a love I never knew existed and, not for one second, have I ever regretted any moment we had together. That aside, you know what my dreams were? I wanted to be a successful career woman, self-sufficient and THIN. That’s what I wanted. Maybe it seems a bit shallow, but having been the fat girl for as long as I can recall…I wanted that. I wanted to look like the ‘regular girls’. I wanted to feel comfortable in my skin. I wanted to travel and not think about my hips squeezed into an airplane seat. And, now…I have that. Where’s my satisfaction? Where’s my happiness? That’s what was supposed to happen, right? I’ve shed the weight. I’ve met every one of my weight loss goals. I’ve got these perky boobs and slender arms. My god man; it’s, literally, all I’ve ever dreamed it could be.

My former co-worker and I were chatting. She said some things that really shook me. She described her impression of me, of first knowing me. (I’m paraphrasing) ‘To look at you, you were this shy, timid girl and now I see this confident girl that shines’. I was taken aback because I don’t know when that happened. I guess although I have these mounds and mounds of self-doubt that there is something under there. I just gotta dig it out. So, that gives me hope. Maybe I can’t see it quite yet but others do and that gives me hope.

It really is a constant battle; between what you think you want, what you actually want and what actually is. I’m so thankful for all these wonderful people in my life. Without you, I don’t know where I would be.

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2 Week Post Op Appointment: tape removed!

Today was my 2 week post op appointment. Sadly, less than an hour before my appointment, my surgeon’s office called and said that he wasn’t able to make it to clinic. Eek! Long story short, I saw his medical assistant instead.  She removed the surgical tape which has been causing quite a bit of discomfort. I was quite nervous about this but it wasn’t painful. It felt weird actually. She was pretty concerned regarding the bruising on my right breast. She took pics and sent them to my surgeon who wanted to know what I did. To my recollection, I haven’t done anything. He had told me that he had to do a lot of work to that breast so I thought it was normal. He wants to see me next week to further assess. I’m to take daily pictures to compare the progression of the the bruising. Man, I surely hope I don’t have a complication…because I don’t have any PTO. Blah.

Physically, I feel pretty good. This week is substantially better than last week. My night sweats have decreased to maybe just once a night. I’m still feeling weak and am exhausted by the end of the day but it’s better than last week. I’m down to 1-2 doses of acetaminophen daily. I’m able to shower fairly easily. Not able to shave yet. I can almost fully extend my left arm but my right arm is lagging. It’s my T-rex arm. I now have sensation to both of my nipples but I remain numb in many places including the underside of both breasts and the underside of my arm from axillary to elbow.

Psychologically, I’m progressing. It’s not near as severe as it was the days following surgery. I’m able to look at myself in the mirror and not cry. That seems so odd. Can you imagine? I’ve been working towards this for what seems like forever and I’m satisfied with the fact that I’m not crying when I look at myself. That’s infuriating. In my rational mind, I know that it’ll take time. Lisa pointed out that it’s like you have to mourn that person that you no longer are and I can see that. I’m missing Paul more so recently. I’m sure for many reasons. Valentine’s Day, our anniversary, my 30th birthday, this surgery, etc. It has stirred me up. I’ve made an appointment with my therapist for next week. I need some guidance with my struggles lately.

I took measurements today.

PreOperatively: Bust: 36 Band 32 Arm 13

Today PostOp: Bust 37 Band 32 Arm 11

I’m hoping there’s swelling that will subside but dang. I was expecting a smaller bust. We shall see.

The medical assistant said to remove the tape residue before posting my eh, I wanted to blog now. I’m so very impressed with the incisions. They are so fine. Once everything is healed they’ll be barely noticeable. She did tell me to stay away from vitamin E as it can actually cause the scars to widen! What?! She recommended cocoa butter and baby oil. Which most of the cocoa butter I found at Target had vitamin E. Luckily, I found a baby oil gel with cocoa butter. BAM! Also, I can now where a sports bra with no wire with arm compressions, technically. Although, I know I’d have a difficult time with a pull over and I don’t have the arm sleeves.

Thanks for reading. Here’s to date progress pics.

Right breast is significantly bruised. MD is concerned. Watching it closely.
Incisions are so fine!! Will clean up the residue this weekend. So happy to have the tape off!

Back to work! Now, 2 weeks Post Op **GRAPHIC PICTURES**

I went back to work this week. I worked 3 days (my usual work week is four 10 hour days). I tell you what, it was rough. I overestimated myself. I, of course, want to be brutally honest. So bare with me.

It’s a struggle to do just the bare minimum. And, by this, I mean to dress myself. It’s truly a work out. Just getting from a sitting to standing position is a challenge. I truly have learned that I need to do more abdominal work outs. I plan to hit it hard core and be in the best abdominal shape of my life for my 360 abdominoplasty. You don’t really know how often you use your arms until you can’t use them anymore. I, also, am not able to fully extend my arm so reaching things is a challenge. I joke that I’m a turtle (but seriously)–as in when I don’t quite make it and then I’m merely rolling on my back trying to turn myself over.

The first day of work, I was pumped and ready to go. Then…I got there. Everyone was super concerned and everyone welcomed me back. The common reaction was ‘I can’t believe you’re back already’. My department is amazing and supportive. They are allowing me to come back on limited duty; which for a nurse, that’s huge! I have 5 lb pulling, pushing, lifting restrictions for 6 weeks. This didn’t seem to be my challenge to avoid. My challenge was the shear tiredness. I was exhausted! By about 10am, I hated my life. I was drained.

This continued the rest of the week. The exhaustion. Then let’s add to it. I can’t get comfortable at night. I’m a tummy sleeper and this surgery requires you to be a back sleeper. Plus, I have to elevate my arms and I can feel just the pressure of my body weight against my incision sites and it’s torture. Then came the night sweats. Freezing, shivering cold then to soak-the-bed sweating. I checked my temperature; no fever. I checked my incision sites; no signs of infection. So, I’ve attributed this to a stress response. Lisa put it very well: my body doesn’t know that I did this on purpose. My body is just in complete shock. I’m achy and uncomfortable at night. The lack of sleep has contributed to my long days.

Nevertheless, I made it through the work week. Although, they did low census me 2 of 3 of the days and I did not complain. I was thankful.

Then this weekend, my amazing girlfriend came over. I thought I’d be a total kill joy but it was surprisingly good. I had another restless night Friday but Saturday and today, we got out of the house. I got to walk around and get some sun. It was good and much needed. At this point in my weight loss journey, I’m pretty accustomed to physical activity. I try to walk about an hour a day for my activity and then do some other type of exercise on most days. But this week, I’ve done good to do my basic ADLs (activities of daily living).

As of right now, what is bothering me most is my arm pits. And not exactly my armpits as you can see in my pictures. The constant motion of the arms really irritates this region and it hurts. It is uncomfortable. Due to my bypass, I’m not able to take NSAIDS-so no IB profen for me. I’m off of my narcotics and surviving on tylenol. During the week, I maxed out my acetaminophen limits but this weekend, it has been better.

A friend from work asked me if it was worth it and if I regret it. I had to take pause. Don’t get me wrong, I’m am so very pleased with my surgery but, man, this is a struggle. My reply to her was ‘have you seen the size of my arms?!’ Jury is still out on how I feel about the extra incision (down my arm/ribs) which took the skin that hung over the back side of my bra. When I told her this, my friend said ‘pain is temporary’. This is so true. So I’ll reflect more on this after this pain/uncomfortableness/irritation passes.

I’m hopeful for this next week. I hope that the night sweats are over because they are awful. I hope to build up my strength as I’m feeling extremely weak all over.

Okay…now to the good stuff: the physical progress/pics. My incisions aren’t dirty. They still have surgical tape on them. Hoping to have that removed at this week’s post op appointment.

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Side by side comparison: Pre-op Vs. 2 weeks Post Op

 

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THIS! This incision is the booger! Right there, in the armpit region is the source of about 95% of my pain. When my arm is down, the incisions are not super noticeable. And the incisions on my breast are very thin and I’m hopeful that they will fade a good amount.
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And this here, this here is why I did the surgery. These ‘bat wings’ are what bother me the most. And I’m so glad that they are gone!
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Taking this picture was an accomplishment in itself. It’s like my arms weigh a ton!!!

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Who’s That Girl In the Mirror? *Graphic Images*

Have you ever thought to yourself if I had this or if I accomplished this then I’d be happy? I mean…with whatever…be it weight, money, love. All my life I’ve imagined what my life would be like if I were thin. Surely it’d be better and it’d be different. So many times I’d look at myself in the mirror and say ‘man, if I could just lose {fill in the blank}, I’d be content’.

I’ve always been very unhappy with my boobs and my arms. So extremely self conscious. It impacted everything from what I wore to how I sat to how I had sex. I can remember very vividly when Paul had moved into my house and I was changing clothes and I turned away from him as I took off my bra. He kinda chuckled and said ‘why do you do that’? I instantly felt embarrassed. I told him that he wouldn’t understand and it turned into this huge conversation. In summary, I hated the way my boobs sagged and he loved me just the way I was. He told me so many times throughout our relationship how beautiful and sexy I was and how much he desired me. This is the first time I’ve really said this but I never really believed him.

It was and is so absolutely irrational. My body issues are deep seeded. It wasn’t until probably a year into our relationship that I actually took off my bra during sex. Because I hated how they looked. I hated the sounds that they made.

I’m a bundle of emotions today. I’ve said it a thousand times: grief is a bitch. She’s an evil bitch that I think waits until you’re least expecting it and the she pushes you down and laughs at you. At least that’s how I feel today; how I feel this week.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve imagined having my arms and boobs done. Probably the first time I ever really gave it thought was at 16! That’s a lot of years of fantasizing of what it’d be like to have slender arms and perky boobs. I’ve never had them. And I’ve always had a negative body image about it too. I’ve always thought about how amazing it’d be if they looked a certain way.

As I showered today, I could see myself in the mirror. My boobs are very perky; perfectly rounded. They look they way I’ve imagined they should all of my life. I squeezed the soapy rag against my outreached arms and watched as the suds streamed down my arm, down my body. I washed my stomach and the underneath of my breast. It was foreign to me that I did not have to lift my breast. I bent down to wash my feet and my breast did not hang or sway and neither did my arms. I got out of the shower and dried off. I tried to whip my towel around my back to catch it with my other arm like I always do but I wasn’t able to. My face felt warm and my head was pounding, my nose turned red and my eye began to water.

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Significant bruising to underside of right breast. Minimal pain now.
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I can almost extend my left arm completely now. I only have about half of this range of motion on my right arm. Both arms are tight. I continue to have to ice them.

I stood there and I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked at myself from head to toe. Not intending to critique myself in the least. Just kinda soaking it all in. And I began to cry. Who is this girl?

This face. It’s slender with a defined jaw line, no double chin. Topped with the darkest shade of brown hair, so short that it barely brushes my brow. And my boobs: my nipples are centered and in the correct anatomical position. My bellies are still there but as I put my hand on my hip, I can feel and I can see my bone. I take a deep breath in and I can see my chest rise, my stomach drawn in; I can see the outline of my rib cage. I turn to the side and I look at my arm. Slender. One smooth, semi-even line from my shoulder to wrist. I dry my back and I can see my shoulder blades. My lumbar spine is defined and there is no back roll or rather back ‘shelf’. I stand forward again. My thighs are still thick by not massive and when I look down, I can see my toes.

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I don’t recognize this girl. She’s everything I’ve bargained with myself to be. She’s everything I’ve been working to accomplish but I just don’t recognize her.

I finish drying and I have to put my compression vest on. And the tears come full force as I have my right arm in the sleeve and I can’t quite reach behind my back for the left sleeve. My arms are tight.

And I close my eyes and I see Paul.  We are standing in our home on 46th street. He’s holding my shrug as I put my arm in. And he tells me that it’s awfully warm outside and that this jacket isn’t really necessary. And I tell him ‘you know I hate my arms’. He kisses my shoulder and tells me he loves me just as I am.

I struggle but I get the vest on. And I snap it. And I look at myself tears streaming. He loved me just as I was but I didn’t. Now I look the way I want but I don’t recognize myself. And I have this rush…this panic…this feeling I felt for days, weeks, months on end following his death after all my friends and family had to leave my side to get back to their lives…I’m alone.

There’s some days when my house is so quiet and I walk through it and I have flash backs of a moment where he stood in that spot. And I think of the moment we stood there together. And now my memory is not of the girl that I see in the mirror now. And in some morbid way, it’s devastating.

**big sigh**

Being a widow is tough. Being a bariatric surgery patient who lost her husband on the same day is even more tough. In time wounds heal, but big wounds always leave a scar. I’m still healing. I still have days like today where it hurts like it is January 2015. On nights like right now, when my heart is literally aching and it seems that I’ve surely cried every tear a person could possibly produce, I try to tell myself to be thankful. I’m so thankful that I experienced Paul. I’m so thankful that I experienced a love that touched me to my core. I’m thankful that I survived. I’m thankful that I’ve pressed onward. I’m thankful that I’ve experienced new love. I’m thankful that I get to keep his memories with me. I’m thankful for this blog to share them with you.  And I know that sooner or later I’ll recognize the girl in the mirror and I’m gonna love her too.

Day before first skin removal

ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY THREE. 183 pounds. 640,500 calories. That is what I’ve lost. Over the past 601 days, I’ve worked towards becoming healthy, towards shedding these pounds that have held me back my entire life. I’ve spent most of the minutes of my adult hood uncomfortable: with how I look, how I feel, how I imagine that I am perceived. And to this day, when I look in the mirror, I still see that same 341 lb girl. I know I’m not her but that image is still what I see. Tomorrow I get to complete step one to being closer to shedding this suit.

When the topic of extra skin comes up, most ask about my stomach. I guess when you think about extreme weight loss that’s the area that is most dramatically impacted. Although, for me, that isn’t what is most bothersome. It’s my arms. They’ve always been big. I’ve always been self conscious of their size and stretch marks. And since the dramatic weight loss, I now have floppy, old lady arms AKA bat wings. When I do a plank, I can see the skin wrinkle and it looks like a 90 year old woman’s arm. When I run in a sleeveless top, they clap. And tomorrow, I get to change that.

Day before brachioplasty and mastopexy BUST: 36 BAND: 32 ARM: 12.5 BRA SIZE: 34DDD

On my list of things to accomplish by 30, is breast augmentation. I turn 30 in March. I’m beyond excited that I’ll be checking that off my list. I come from a long line of big busted beauties. And I am going to be glad to get rid of them. In the words of my surgeon …’they’ll be beautiful and up to my chin’!!!

I plan to upload progress pics of my transition/progress (be forewarned that they could be graphic and disturbing and your breasts might have sympathy pain for me ). I’ll be wrapped or in compression garments for a total of 6 weeks. Swelling will be a great concern. I’m told it will take weeks for it to recede.

I love that my surgeon gave me my scripts ahead of time. I’ve already gotten them filled. My bag is packed. My pillows are ready to go. I’ve got my support system ready to go. I’m very fortunate to have so much love and support from friends, family, acquaintances and co-workers.

I’m prepared for pain and pressure. I’m prepared to feel like poo. I’m beyond ecstatic to take one step closer to completing my transformation.

My Story: my weight struggle, gastric Bypass and my husband’s death…

 

Senior in high school 2003 I hadn’t stepped on a scale in a long time Estimated weight 230lbs
After a break up and living on my own, my weight soared. Estimated weight >300lbs
2009 About 250 lbs

 

2011 280 lbs
My wedding day March 17, 2012 The happiest day of my life. Weigh was about 285lbs.

My entire life I’ve been the chubby girl, the overweight girl, the shy girl. I never knew what it was like to shop in the non-plus size section of a clothing store.  I didn’t know what it was like to enjoy physical activity.  I didn’t know that food played such a large part in my life until I started my weight loss journey in May 2014.

I was the yo-yo dieter. All or nothing—starve myself and exercise incessantly or binge at every meal and sit on my butt all day. Drop 50lbs; gain 60.  I didn’t know moderation.  I remember us as a family gorging ourselves at family dinners. Everyone ate until they were miserable.  This is how I thought you were supposed to eat.  I loved food. I still love food. Food was my crutch in every way. I was happy-I ate. I was sad-I ate. I was bored-I ate.  Food probably was the best friend I ever had-it never let me down.

First picture together 2010

I met the love of my life, Paul  , in the summer of 2010. I was the thinnest that I had ever been in my adult life. I was 225lbs for all of one week. Our romance and love story began. He was absolutely everything I never knew I wanted. I knew instantly that he was different and he was going to be very important to me. I knew I was going to marry him within 2 weeks of knowing him. And such the way it usually goes with dating, we drank—we ate—always in excess. I was the absolute picture of ‘fat and happy’.

But in 2014, I found myself in a place where my weight peaked at 341lbs. I was constantly out of breath. I avoided activity for fear of what I’d look like, not being able to do it, etc. I missed out on a lot. Paul and I dreamed of traveling but it never happened. Sure money played a part in it but, more so, was the fact that I didn’t think I’d fit in the airplane seat. There were all these things I wanted to do: travel, sky dive, horseback riding, roller-coasters, marathons—none of which I could because I was too heavy, too out of shape. I found WeightWise (http://weightwise.com/). I looked into Gastric Bypass. I was skeptical but I was overwhelming surprised by their program.  It was everything I needed. And so I started my journey. I made dietary changes. I got active. I told all my family and loved ones.

May 2014 Peak weight: 341 lbs

In the months leading up to my surgery, my husband and I listed and sold our current home, built and then closed on our brand new dream home. We both had very solid jobs and our future was bright. I was slowing losing weight and becoming healthier. He had, also, quit drinking. My husband was very supportive. He was so happy and up for a promotion at work.

Day of surgery Last picture Paul ever took of me 295 lbs

November 12, 2014 was a Wednesday. Paul and I got up super early and drove to the hospital. He was rather nervous. I was excited. My mom met us there. While in pre-op, my surgeon came in and instructed Paul to be my water Nazi, to line up medicine cups, fill them with water and make me take a shot every 5 minutes after surgery. I remember my mom telling Paul ‘take a look at her ass. It’s the last time you’ll see it’. We laughed. My surgery took a few hours longer than anticipated. I arrived in my room where mom and Paul were waiting for me. They took care of me. I had terrible nausea. Paul lined those medicine cups up and did just as he was instructed. I’d never seen him look so concerned since he was the happy go lucky type. I wanted to walk. He was nervous about it. He wanted me to stay in bed. But he escorted me around the hallway each time I got up. He got me ice packs. He was perfect. He was tired and wanted to go home. My mom was staying the night with me since he had to work the next day. Before he left, he filled my ice pack one more time. He hugged and kissed me good-bye. His last words to me ‘Drink. Drink. Drink. Walk. Walk. Walk. I love you, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow’.

Day 1 post op

If only I had known that that would be the last time. I would have held him longer. I would have…

There’s no sense in talking ‘what ifs’. They will drive you crazy. I hadn’t heard from him that next morning or afternoon.  I was worried. After being discharged, I called around to try to find out if anyone had seen or heard from him. I remember having this just nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach. I remember telling my mom that I knew something was wrong. Once I spoke to our friend that he worked with and him saying ‘No. He wasn’t at work today’. I knew that he wasn’t okay. My sister agreed to go check on him. Our friend agreed to go check on him. My mom’s friend agreed to check on him. Our friend called when he got to the house. I walked him through how to get in our garage. I asked how many cars there were. He says ‘two’. Oh my god. I can’t even describe the sick feeling I had. I knew. I heard the alarm say ‘garage door’ as he walks through the house I hear him ‘Paul? Paul? Are you here?’. The phone dropped. The call ended.  I screamed at my mom telling her I needed to get home right at that moment. I’d never seen my mom drive that fast. I kept saying…’He’s dead, mom. I know it. I just know it’. We were speeding down the road when the phone rang. When I heard ‘Jessie, is your mom there…” in this voice that was trying so hard not to crack. I swear my heart stopped. I knew…I knew right then. I pulled at the door but it was locked and mom pulled over as she talked on the phone. I fell out of the car. I screamed ‘He’s dead. He’s dead. Noooo.’ I pounded my fists on the ground and I pulled the wet grass with my bare hands. My mom pulled me up, tears in her eyes, trying her best to console me. I have no idea what she was saying. I punched the dash board and screamed. That whole ride is a blur. I remember just mom and I sobbing. We pulled up to the curb across the street as there were cop cars in front on my house. The officer kneels down ‘Ma’am. Mrs. Ashworth. Do you know what has happened?’.  ‘Yes, my husband’s dead’.  He and my mom’s friend practically carried me in.

He had had his favorite meal: Papa John’s ham and onion pizza and a cookie and a bowl of ice cream. ESPN was still on the T.V. Mollie was curled in his arms; his phone on the charger on the night stand.

My husband died the same night I had my Gastric Bypass. How cruel this life can be. Paul’s life ended where my new life began.

And so my real journey began…

Day of Paul’s Memorial Size 20 pants