Friday, February 6, 2015
I’m back to 203, down from 210 last weekend.
It was a grind, I’m here to tell you.
I’ve been eating a lot of protein. A LOT.
On Wednesday, my stomach/bowels felt overfull and my hernia was aching—I looked like I was about six months pregnant, and felt it, too—so I had a Pink Lady apple with some peanut butter. That night? (And this is TMI, but this is a blog about the DS and WLS so poop going to come up here frequently, so if you don't want to hear about it, don't read here :-) …), I think I pooped out about 20 pounds of crap. No lie. And solid, normal, pre-surg-type poop, not diarrhea. Thank you Miss Pink Lady.
I feel less bloated and sluggish, now, two days later.
Other than Superbowl day when I had a handful of salt and vinegar chips with Ranch sour cream dip, I’ve not eaten any inappropriate carbs since Sunday (i.e., flour, wheat, potatoes, etc. I can’t remember if those are the simple or complex carbs, I have to look it up every time, but I haven’t eaten the “bad” ones.).
And it’s paying off.
Yesterday, I had SF chocolate pudding made with 2% milk (less carbs than whole milks) with whipped cream for breakfast. Deelish.
I also made the DS Fluff for the first time, and which I was totally underwhelmed by. I got a large container of ricotta—which to me, meant 16 oz—added 1 package of SF Jell-0 cheesecake pudding, some sour cream, two giant spoonfuls so maybe half a cup?, and some milk, and blended. Bleh. Tasted like ricotta. So I added a SF lemon pudding, more milk, beat some more, and…meh. Lemony, with a whisper of cheesecake flavor, grainy ricotta. And I bought a good brand, also. So I’m not sure what the big deal is.
I bought the stuff, I made it, it’s a lot of fat and protein, so I will eat it. I had some last night before bed with whipped cream. It tasted ok, maybe the flavors mingled more, so up from an F to a C grade, and it did beat back that sweets craving, so all in all, I guess it worked out. What. Ever.
The carb obsession has amped way, way day, so I’m able to make rational decisions about what I put in my mouth, and am able to stop and say, “Why do you want to eat that? A healthy person would not eat that and just eat something good for the body.” That never happened as an obese person. Never. I always told that little inner voice to shut the fuck up and ate what I wanted. That did not work out too well for me. Ahem.
So it will be eleven months on the 14th since I’ve had surgery, and I’m still grieving food. I may grieve it all my life just in different gradations of grief and obsession. I need to learn to deal with that, too. One day at a time.
Tonight my husband is taking me out to dinner; I picked the place. It has Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Thai food—he doesn’t like any of them, but it was my turn to pick, and that’s what I want—and then a movie. Good times.
I’m thinking some hot and sour soup and short ribs ought to hit the spot.