LilySlim - Weight loss

Monday, August 31, 2015

Struggling With the "Pages" Part of Blogger: A Recipe

So until I get it figured out, here is the Almond Crisped Peaches recipe. Manga!

I totally bogarted this recipe from Smitten Kitchen. I'll show the changes I made to make it DS / low-carb friendly, in red.


4 ripe peaches I had 3 peaches, halved
1/3 cup (55 grams) whole almonds (pre-ground is 1/2 cup)
1/4 cup (50 grams) sugar replaced with baking Splenda
3 tablespoons (45 grams) cold unsalted butter, cubed

Optional extras: 1/4 cup (20 grams) rolled oats, 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, 1/2 tsp ground ginger, pinch of sea salt

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Halve peaches and remove pits. Place fruit cut side up in baking dish. In a food processor, grind almonds and sugar together until coarsely ground (with a few pebbles left). Add oats and other flavorings, if using, then butter, pulsing the machine until the ingredients are just blended. Spoon the almond mixture into the center of each peach, then press it flat, as if icing the tops of the peaches with it. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour (baking time varies with peach size), until the top is brown and crisp and you can easily slice through the fruit with a fork or spoon. I baked them for 20 minutes and they were perfect. Your oven may vary. Start at 20 minutes and then check every 5 - 10 minutes.

Serve warm or at room temperature, with creme fraiche, lightly sweetened whipped cream or even plain yogurt, cold, for breakfast. They're good warm or cold. But definitely whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, especially when served hot.

Without a food processor: Use an equivalent weight of almond meal or finely chopped almonds, stir in sugar and any other ingredients, then the same volume of butter, melted. It will be less clumpy, but the oven won’t know the difference.

I'll tell you what; that little $35- Hamilton Beach food processor I bought earlier this year at Target has come in very, very handy. I also used it last night to make pimento cheese--coming up next.

This is just before they went in the over. I like Trader Joe's almond meal. It just tastes more like almonds to me, which I like. YMMV.

Here they are baking in the oven, nearly done. The peaches are soft and the almond topping is browning up. Noms.


I’m angry.

Well, yesterday I was extremely angry.

We were at Target (where else? Paper towels, toilet paper, earrings on clearance for $3.58, and high-speed free WiFi, what’s not to like?)  And I had planned on getting a big raspberry Danish.  You know, the ones that come in the big pan. Entenman’s makes the best one, but Target’s Archer Farm’s brand makes a pretty good simulation.

I didn’t even walk over and look at it.

I got the needed household items, cruised through the clearance racks, both jewelry and clothing, met my husband and we checked out, and we went over to Schnuttbucks to have something to drink and surf the web.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn Danish. I wanted it so badly.

Why didn’t I get it and put it in my cart? The one thing that kept me from purchasing it and gobbling it down right there in the store, surreptitious piece after surreptitious piece?


I knew my husband would gang up on me about buying it—if he paid attention. Sometimes he doesn’t.—and then there was the shame of having the cashier look at it, look at me and wonder why the hell I needed a big Danish (when I was fat, they knew why I needed it.). So why did I care what either one of those people thought about me? Knee-jerk. Thirty+ years of being obese. Also, it was admitting to myself that I couldn’t control what I put into my mouth.

So I just didn’t put it in the cart. Plus it was $5-. I needed coffee more than I needed a big Danish. And of course I forgot the coffee. *rolleyes*

So there I was, sitting in the Schnuttbucks Café, on my laptop, thinking about that fucking Danish about 100 feet away, being pissed off.

And then I got hungry. Real hungry. The kind of hungry where you start looking in your purse for mints or anything to eat because you can feel your blood sugar dropping. The “I’m going to kill something if I don’t eat right now.”

I asked my husband to watch my stuff, grabbed a few bucks out of my purse, and headed for the snack aisle by the cashier. Chips. Cheetos. Beef Jerkey. Candy. Nuts. My repertoire was limited because for whatever damn reason, my dentures were not staying on the roof of my mouth. The gums must have shrunk quite a bit because so far neither Super Polydent nor Sea Bond can keep them in place, and eating is difficult.

So I’m looking around for something soft that I can eat without the top denture in, and so I bought a Three Musketeer’s bar. I haven’t had one in years. They were my favorite as a little kid. Very soft, gummable, tasty, and instant sugar. Also? Only a dollar.

I took it back over to the café, sat in front of my laptop, ripped it open, and gobbled it down. Was it the best choice? No. Could I have made other choices? Of course, I was at Target with a big grocery section. I could’ve walked to the back and grabbed a yogurt. But I didn’t. But it was still better than buying that big Danish. Why? Portion size. One candy bar versus a whole Danish. Mitigation rather than deprivation. Sometimes you need to feed the monster.

I’ve also discovered that some chocolate once in a while does not bother me in any way: No diarrhea, no constipation, no weight gain. Note I said “once in a while.” I usually get a big Hershey Symphony bar, the one with the almond bits and toffee chips, and I usually have a couple of squares per day when I get it and put it in the fridge (because everything in the cupboards melts in this heat).
Guess how I felt after I ate the Three Musketeer’s bar?


I still wanted the Danish.
More anger. Because I was angry. Being angry made me angrier. 
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY was I having this obsession. I decided to unpack that. What was it that made me want the Danish? Now mind you, I’d been planning on buying it for two days. Yes, two days. I knew we’d be at Target yesterday (I had a prescription refill to pick up + WiFi).
Comfort. Emotion tamping. But I was so angry at deprivation, I couldn’t tell you what emotion I was trying to stuff by desiring the Danish.

At the time, I could find no reason why is was beating a gong in the back of my brain. Eat me eat me eat me eat me eat me eat me. Is this was alcoholics or drug addicts go through? There is no abstinence with food addiction—you must eat to live. Using food to soothe myself hadn’t worked for 35 years—well, actually it did. I was soothed. Over and over again until I hit 351 pounds. While you’re shoving it in your face, you’re not thinking about how it is going to nudge your weight up and your health down. All you’re thinking about is the sweet relief that that delicious morsel is going to scratch the emotional itch, whatever it might be, right now.

I’m stressed, there’s no doubt about it. Finances, health, relationship issues. All major stressors by themselves let alone in conjunction.

So I’m going to go with stress eating for $1,000, Alex. *sigh*
I still want that fucking Danish.

I’m not angry about it anymore. I’m just sad. Sad that something so delicious, so comforting, is so bad for me, both physically and mentally. I just wrote an article (for money!) about carb addiction and how it works on a chemical level, and yet knowing all that, it didn’t lessen my desire for that box of fabulousness (and chemicals, and sugar, and processed whatever). I still want it. I’m white knuckling it right now. Fortunately it’s 10 miles away or I’d got get it, dammit.


So last night I made this instead, and it was FABULOUS. OMG. It really was. I had two more halves for breakfast with whipped cream. This is something I could see myself making on a weekly basis for dessert, a snack, or even a meal.  (Check on my new recipe page for directions and photos.)
I still want that damn Danish. If I can hold out today, hopefully the carb craving will diminish. We’ll see.

*NOTE: I am creating a recipe/cooking page. Once I do that, I'll be putting up some of my low carb and other experiments in the kitchen. With crappy cell phone pics. It'll be fun! You'll find it on the upper lefthand side of the homepage, half @$$ed cooking.

I’m not angry anymore, I’m just anxious. Monday’s make me anxious. Years of anxiety about going to work on Monday on Sunday nights must still be kicking in. On Mondays? I’m usually a wreck and have difficulty getting my shit together. When we lived in Reno, I used to spend every Monday (nearly) wrapped in a blanket, watching TV all day, drinking coffee and snacking on crap, as I trembled and struggled to go outside to get the mail. Sometimes I didn’t.

Today, I’m just not going to eat the Danish. Tomorrow is unknown.

So far today I’ve had two cups of coffee with HWC, two peach halves with almond “roofs”, one serving stacked ground beef enchiladas with cheese, and 15 ounces of water with SF raspberry lemonade in it. I’m full, but thinking about my next meal.


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

And Medical Appointments

I met my new doctor until Medi-Cal (Medicaid in other states), well, the NP who I liked. A gray hair originally from Wisconsin so we hit it off pretty well. She hit it off with my husband, too. I brought in a folder of stuff:

  • Intro letter explaining about the DS and the need for quarterly labs and why
  • A list of labs I needed ordered
  • A couple of articles about anemia and weight loss surgery / malabsorption
  • A list of my current and former doctors, diagnoses, supplements, and medications.
  • List of current symptoms / ailments

I was ready man, I was not in the mood for any arguments.

And you know what? I didn't need to bring out the big guns. I told her about the anemia need for an iron infusion (shortness of breath, exhaustion, heart skipping around periodically), and she was totally on board with it, ordered all the labs on the list I gave her, told me she'd set up the iron infusion once she knew what my labs were, and come back in two weeks. I'm assuming she'll call me when labs come in with infusion directions (or I'll call--she said labs take about a week), and was super nice, friendly, compassionate, and open-minded. *whew* What a load off my mind. I didn't have to bring out the big peer-reviewed medical article guns. LOL  *exhale*

Oh:  I showed her my hernia and she mentioned that we needed to "take care of that." Uh, yeah.

So I had the labs done the next morning, fasting, it was a lot of blood and made me very tired for the next couple of days. I forgot to count the tubes but I'm sure there were at least a dozen, plus a urinalysis.

My new gynecologist cancelled my appointment from earlier this month and rescheduled it for yesterday.

Again, I was prepared. I had copies of all my recent diagnostic tests--mammogram, pelvic ultrasound, examination by former OB/GYN, and ta da! It just came on Saturday, my PAP smear results. It only took five phone calls and $15- to get that. *&^%  And it was fine. Had them all in an envelope, my husband drove me because we were going to run some errands after, and I sat down in a very crowded office to discover...the doctor was at the hospital, not answering his phone, presumably delivering a baby.


I'm rescheduled for next Monday. I told the gal, "I'm a cancer patient, something is growing in there, and I'd like to find out what it is..." she understood, but it is still frustrating because I want that thing out of there, whatever it is. I'm trying to be zen about it, but if you've ever had cancer, every weird thing that goes on in your body must be a new cancer. It's hard not to go there. Lump on my elbow? Possible cancer? Bloody nose? Possible cancer? Like that. Everyone on my OM boards does the same thing. Sometimes it is cancer, that's the terrible part about that. Regardless, I just want it out of there. And I want to talk about possible removal of the uterus. I'm not sure about the ovaries. We'll see. My last period was only 3 days (and hooray!), but it coincided with the blood draw so I'm sure it contributed to my tiredness.

Now I'm trying to find a psychiatrist who takes Medi-Cal because I think it's time to tweak my anti-depressant. Granted, things have been stressful financially and relationship-wise, but going blind has also been very difficult and depressing. If I ever lose the ability to read I don't know what I'm going to do. Thank G*d for the Kindle so I can make the text larger. I can no longer read normal sized text books--I did get a magnifying glass, however.

So anyway...I think that catches me all the way up. If not, there's always tomorrow. C'est la vie!

Weight, Food, How it Went Eating on the Road

My weight had stabilized around 180 / 181 before we hit the road. I did eat some crap, i.e., non-protein or fat-heavy foods, while gone, and this is how it went:

I really love those Lay's Wavy Truffle Fries potato chips, especially with some ranch dip. Oh my. I hope they don't discontinue those, so good. I had those in the car for periodic snacks.

Any restaurants we ate at I generally ate protein, eggs, fish, and so on.

At my sister's place? Notsomuch. It was her birthday and instead of going out, they ordered pizza--four pizzas, one with sausage, pepperoni, ground beef for her husband and I, different for the others. She also sent him out to get a cake (because duh he forgot. What is it with men?). So I had two slices of absolutely fabulous hand-tossed, fresh mozzarella, meat intensive pizza. Delicious. I also had cake, dark chocolate with whipped cream frosting. Fantastic. I had two more pieces over the next three days. I had leftover pizza for lunch a couple of times. We ate out a bunch of times (protein intensive but some carbs like fish tacos on corn tortillas), and basically just enjoyed ourselves. Oh, for breakfast, I had her take me to Safeway where I stocked up on Greek yogurt and cottage cheese for breakfast. Good idea as they seem to be "you're on your own" for breakfast, and my sister did not appear to eat much breakfast, some toast or a banana. She's way too thin IMHO.

Anyway, so I was wondering what the scale would say when I got home. So the morning after we got home (after that excruciating train trip), I got on the scale:  180 lbs. HA!  That's the DS for you. And none of those carbs gave me the runs, either, as usual, and for which I will be eternally grateful because it would've been embarrassing as hell to have the shits in front of four other people. UGH.

So this week I've been back on the protein / clean eating wagon, and as of this morning I'm back to 174. Nice.

I'm happy to stop here, but we'll see. My husband just left for up north to attend parent / teacher night at his new school tomorrow night--again, as a volunteer--and we loaded up the van with all his dress clothes, teaching materials, whatever he thought he needed, so since he's gone...I got some Asian food to go. He hates Asian food. I'm currently having hot & sour soup, and some sliced beef bulgoki is waiting for me for later. Yee ha. He'll be back this weekend. He has two dock jobs, one on Friday, one on Saturday.

Yes, he's been working a lot and busy. I, on the other hand, handle everything at home--cleaning, laundry, organizing, cooking. He does nothing. I do it. I feel it's only fair since I don't have a job/job, but honestly, he wouldn't do it anyway, so whatever. LOL Regardless, things get handled.

So here are a few pics:

Me, at the beginning of the train trip. I did not look like this nine hours later, I assure you.

We were wandering around Target the other night, well, I was, while my husband used the Internet, they have very fast WiFi at Target. And a Starbucks. Everything I need all in one place. *grin*

So I was purusing the clearance racks in the clothing department because yes, I am a clothes horse / addict, (my limit was $10-) and I saw myself in a full length mirror. At first I was like, really? Is my butt / thighs that small? So I started taking a bunch of pictures and this is the best of the lot. Not of my face, but the rest of me. And those are my $4- Goodwill discovery black capris with tiny little embroidered pink dragonflies all over them...size 14. LOL  I last wore that in 8th grade. Now remember, I'm 5'10" and a big woman, so that is a good size and weight for me. I'm happy to be at this size. I can still shop in the normie sized sections. And FWIW, I did score a cute grey v-neck t-shirt with woodpeckers all over it for $4.50. I'll get a picture up later. It's cute, I'm waring it now. And strangely enough, we saw a juvenile woodpecker in our yard as we were having dinner out on the patio last night. I made us both big salads. Mine had diced ham, sharp cheese, a boiled egg, bacon bits, 1/2 an avocado, bleu cheese crumbles, lettuce, green olives, diced pepperoncini, and Ranch dressing. R's had no ham, no olives, no pepperoncini, dried cranberries, walnuts, croutons, and French dressing. He's a semi-vegitarian. They were good dinners and I was stuffed afterward. We weren't able to get a picture of the woodpecker, but he was really beautiful. I hope he comes out. The heat has been over 100 degrees and although I can no longer afford to feed the birds, I do make sure they have clean water every day. The heat is miserable. Today, however, it's cooler (85 ish), overcast and spitting rain. Cool! I'm hoping for some thunderstorms. I just love those.

So weight loss journey continues. Now my goal is to maintain it. I know a lot of people who have regained and although I'm sure a little bit will happen as my DS "ages," I never want to be over 300 pounds, or anywhere close to that, ever again. As soon as I get this anemia thing under control, I'm going to start exercising again. Right now just walking around Target holding onto a card made me exhausted. (See next post on doc appointments).

So this is the new me, I hope for the rest of my life. I'm good with it.

Oh, here's a good pic of my sister and I. We really look a like now that I've dropped so much weight. Wow.

Traveling Maniac

Last week was CRAZY. I mean...really crazy. I did about, wait, I just did the calculations, I did 1051 miles by car and train in six days. Yowza. All while anemic and exhausted.

First, I went with my husband to his dock job so he wouldn't have to backtrack to get me. We got up at 3:00 and left at 3:30 am to get him there by 6:00 am. I spent the day wandering around the beach, reading, eating chips, and just having a nice day.

He finished work about 3, and we headed up the coast to a small town with a cheap Motel 6 so we could be up early and within striking distance of his new job's HR department so he could go through orientation, get fingerprinted, and sign his teaching contract.

While he was doing that, I sat in a Starbucks and tried to figure out the route to Sacramento to see my retinologist--my favorite, most trusted doctor--and from where I was would require about five freeway transitions, most I'd never been on before. Yikes. I knew when I saw that route that I would never make it. Why? My vision. If I am driving a route I've been on before, or just in a straight line like straight up central California on the 99, I can do it. Freeways I've never been on? A recipe for me to become very, very lost and potentially have an accident.

I started to panic, a genuine anxiety attack. I knew I would need my husband to drive me or I'd never make it. I just wouldn't. His principal had asked if he could spend the day with the students with the substitute--he can't be in there with them alone until his fingerprints clear--and he said he would, so I asked him to change it to the next day so he could drive me to the doctor. He did, and the principal was understanding, particularly since he was volunteering his time and would not be paid for any time he spent there until fingerprints cleared.

We missed a freeway ramp, which was unmarked, can you imagine if I had been driving? and were about 15 minutes late, but typically the appointments are two hours long and run about 15 - 30 minutes behind. That's all right, he's worth it. Not only is he a retinologist and opthmologist, he's an ocular melanoma specialists, a certified oncologist, a certified geneticist, a surgeon, and Summa Cum Laude at Harvard. And he likes the Packers. He's just a kind, compassionate, highly skilled doctor. Everyone on my OM boards who goes to him loves him. He inspires confidence and high care. In contrast, when I went to the the other OM specialist that shit insurance "allowed" me to see at big teaching university about the tiny nodule on my lung, she told me, "I'm not an oncologist, so there's nothing I can do for you."  Not what I wanted to hear. Dr. T? He gave me a lab slip and MRI requisition dated for January so I don't have to call him or come in; I can arrange my own appointments and then see him in February for follow-up. The guy is organized. His IQ has to be about 200. I watched him stop in the hallway and consider something after he took an important phone call, and I swear I could see the cogs in his brain twirling as he thought about it. He is amazing.

Anyhoos, after that we drove back down to the city where his new school is, got another Motel 6, and in the morning, 7:00am, I caught a train into The City (what locals call San Francisco). I was going to spend 3 or 4 days with my sister and my nieces, none of whom I'd seen in two years. I missed them a lot.

She picked me up downtown at the train station in The City about 9:30, and then we all went out to lunch. I had presents for the girls that I gave them after we ordered, and one for my sister because it was also her birthday week, but that one waited until the actual day. The girls are so tall, so beautiful, so shy around me (that made me sad), but I think we enjoyed each other's company. They just started middle school so they are tweens and their hormones are kicking in and their personalities are changing and they're just trying to deal with it all, so they're not rambunctious little kids anymore. I missed part of it. Sigh. They are clearly very smart, confident young ladies, and I'm so proud of them. I wish I could see them all the time. Maybe....

My sister and I had several good conversations and one really long excellent needed-to-be-done conversation about our lives the last two years, and to say we've both had it kinda' rough would be a bit of an understatement. But I think we're both on the same page as far as what is happening in our lives right now. I don't think she realized the extent to which my vision has been compromised, or the potential for metastatic cancer constantly looming over me (and I try, try, not to think about it, but three more people on my OM board have died this week dammit), and I got a better picture of the stressors in her life. It was so great to reconnect.

She was able to observe me "in the wild" as it is, knocking over not one but two displays in Safeway (on my left, blind side), stumbling over curbs, missing steps (holding the rail!), losing them in stores and IKEA (because there was much lunching and shopping Oh My!), that she wouldn't let me take the BART to the Amtrak station to head back south on Sunday (I was going to leave Saturday, but she asked me to stay another day. Aww, my heart.), because she was pretty convinced I would get lost. She was right, I would've. We got lost in the car using a damn GPS. LOL

The IKEA is right near the Amtrak station, so we got there early, looked around, then had lunch in their restaurant. Their Swedish meatballs are fantastic. They give you a dozen !!! with gravy, and mashed potatoes with gravy and I think a vegetable but I don't remember, for like $5.99. LOL And free coffee if you are a "member." Then about 12:30 pm we headed over to the train station. Good thing we gave ourselves plenty of time.

I like to sit downstairs on the train because navigating stairs even when they're not moving is difficult for me at best, so I like to avoid them; however, the conductor said all the downstairs seats were reserved and sold out, so at a station stop I moved upstairs and stayed there. I had purchased a bag of Fritos, a peanut butter protein bar, and I also had a KIND bar in my purse (first time eating nuts with the new teeth. Eh, so/so.) and a huge bottle of water, so I didn't need to go over to the club cafe car. I should've, because about two hours in my butt clock went off. My butt screams in pain if I sit to long, even on padded seats. I was going to Bakersfield, which is the end of the line, and you have to transition to a bus to go into Los Angeles because the mountains are in the way--the train cannot make it up the Grapevine. So the spousal unit picked me up.

I was supposed to get in at 7:30 pm, but we ended up stalled on the tracks between Corcoran (prison town) and Wasco (another prison town) for TWO HOURS. By this time I was cranky, hot, tired, my butt hurt, and I wanted some real food. Since Wasco was the last stop before Bakersfield, I decided to move downstairs while we were stopped so I wouldn' fall on my face. There were plenty of seats downstairs. I sat in front of an older couple playing cards.

Did I mention I was cranky? The woman started kicking my chair. I would turn around and look at the main, and he'd just look at me and smile. My husband and I are texting in the meantime because he was actually on time to meet me (first time for everything :D ) in Bakersfield, and I texted him about the woman and I said, "I may punch an old lady in the face!" That's how cranky and uncomfortable I was. Finally after about 20 minutes of this shit I just turned around and said, "Please, could you not kick my chair?"  She denied it, but evidently was banging the fold down table every time she won a hand of cards. They got very indignant and rude, but I just sat there quietly. It took a great deal of fortitude on my part not to tell them to shove it. (What is wrong with people? Jeez.)

So evidently a freight had derailed so they had to inspect the tracks before we could drive over them. OMG. We were supposed to get in at 7:30 pm, and it was more like 10:00 pm. UGH. MY ASS was killing me. We went to Denny's--I had a bunless double cheeseburger of which I could only eat ha--and then we drove home for a bit over 2 hours. I stumbled into bed and took a pain pill, a good one, and I'm not saying where I got them *wink*, but in the morning I felt much, much better. Oy vay. My butt didn't quit hurting completely for about three days.

So yeah, it was a lot. Just yesterday was when I finally felt like I was recovered. It was sort of the perfect storm trip--doctor, new job, visit 'tivs--all coalesced into one trip. Win/Win.

So here's some pics:

The girls and I outside IKEA. I'm in heels so I'm about 6'2" in this photo, the girls are both over 5' tall, probably around 5'3" or taller. They wear juniors small or medium and look like adults. It's easy to forget they're still little kids and not talk to them like adults. I think I did pretty well. My niece on the right, younger by 20 minutes, looks like Meryl Streep to me. I think she's so beautiful. My other niece looks like me--pretty girl--and LOVES books. I'm putting money on her going to medical school, she loves science. That's her Rubic's cube in another photo. 

This is a view from my sister's place. It was foggy the first day, but subsequent days saw unusual high heat, two days nearly 90 F, which is unheard of for SF. Ugh. I was hoping for a break from the heat. Nope.

All in all, it was worth all the traveling just to spend time with these two and my sister. I'm already looking forward to going back, soon. With R working nearby, I'll probably be up once a month or so. It would be nice to see them more often.

A Recipe: Floginard

I know, I'm very behind. I've been traveling, busy, doctor appointments galore, and getting my husband ready to go up north to his new job (laundry, ironing, looking for classroom supplies in storage). I'll catch up later today. In the meantime, I made this what looked to be wonderful recipe from Better Homes and Gardens. I love that magazine--I've been getting it for about 25 years. Shiny, glossy pictures. Ooooh.

So here is the recipe:

I made a few changes to make it DS friendly. I subbed out the sugar with baking Splenda (Stevia just cooks out), and skipped the crust.

This is what is should have looked like. You see where I'm going with this, right?

This is what mine looked like. My husband and I each had a piece with lots of whipped cream and well, as he said, it was "meh."  Bland. Very bland. 
Also? The recipe says to "spread the batter over the berries."  Uh, it's more like cookie dough, a firm, thick cookie dough, and ain't no 'smoothing' going on. More like drop in balls and flatten.  If "IF" I were to make this again, I would add more liquid like milk or cream, more sweetener, and put all the berries on the bottom. (I used frozen. They just hold together better during baking).
I'll eat it because I hate to waste food, especially dear berries, but it doesn't inspire.

One last thing, this is called an "NSV", non-surgical victory in the weight loss surgery community. (And seriously? It is a surgical victory. Without the DS surgery, this wouldn't happen, so I'm not sure why they're called 'NSVs.' Just sayin'.) This is me, wrapped in a towel. I don't think I've done that since junior high. (Ignore my dirty bathroom mirror--it's been too hot to clean or, well, anything.)