I LOST 100 POUNDS!!!!

Yeppers, I got on my scale this morning and it is official! ONE HUNDRED POUNDS!!! GONE!!!

Funny how everything in the 90's seems so much smaller of a feat. The last 12 pounds have taken quite some time to go... but go, they did ... and I am a mere 10 pounds away from my biggest goal. Everything after that 10 pounds is going to be considered a bonus.

I don't use this phrase very often, but I have to say that I am rather proud of my bad self just now. Though I did have the assistance of body altering surgery, this has been far from what I would call "easy" ... but the surgery certainly made it do-able ... and that was really what I needed, in the end.

I still have some work cut out for me. I really need to spend some time toning my muscles. I have not focused my energy on that as yet, and I know it is really important for maintaining the metabolism. We did buy a weight machine a month or so ago ... the time has come to spend some quality time with it. Also ... I am happy to report that the walls of my pool went up last night and I am hopeful that by the end of this upcoming weekend, it will be ready for water. I love to swim, so once it is ready, I would expect to spend time most days paddling about.

Okay ... so that's really all I have to say about that. I think there are some photos of me on our camera ... I will attempt to upload a few to make this milestone.

Yay! For me!!

When I was a little girl, my Daddy was the "King of the World"... and I was a "Daddy's Girl" to the core. The sun rose and set around him, in my eyes. He was such an amazing daddy. I can actually remember sitting on the living room floor with him, building castles with my Disney blocks ... mere moments after he came home from whatever menial job he had worked that day ... never mattered - he always had all the time in the world for his girl.

My parents decided to call it quits some time before my 5th birthday. I don't begrudge them that decision ... I still can't believe they were ever together for long enough to have created a child ... me. If I wasn't so disturbingly like BOTH of them, I would have sworn my mother caught me off a toilet seat. The truth is that, had premarital sex been more socially acceptable back in the late 60's, my parents would likely never have married and I would not be here today (or at least not in my current format).

When my mother finally announced that she had come to the end of her time with him, he was very hurt. He tried very hard to convince her to stay, but she wanted to be happy and insisted they break up. He finally conceded and informed her she was free to go ... but "I'm not going anywhere ... and you aren't taking my baby". Gotta give my dad props for that bold move all the way back in 77, eh? This was how I came to live with just my dad for my first year of school. It was unusual at the time, to say the least. But, it was what worked for us. I got to spend weekends with Mom. We hung out at her new apartment. I can remember Disco Fever used to be on TV and I would dress up in her bathing suit cover up and high heeled shoes ... and dance the show away.

The down side of this arrangement was that my father worked A-LOT of hours ... and often out of town. This meant that I spent a REE-DIC-ULOUS amount of time at my babysitter's house. Often overnight a couple of times through the week. It sucked. (There is a fairly compelling opinion within the medical community that "things happened" to me while staying with these people. Not through any fault of my father's - I am certain he was very comfortable with their set up, and felt I would be safe ... you just can't safeguard your kids against every wack-job on the planet ... it isn't possible.) Eventually, Mom got fed up with the amount of time I was spending there and just took me home to her house ... for good. Daddy didn't fight about it ... I guess he just knew it was better for me if I lived with Mom.

At that point, the roles reversed ... and then I started to spend weekends with him. He also used to show up at my school for my lunch break now and then and take me out for lunch in his new sports car (a Celica Supra)... I felt like the fricken Queen of Sheba! The only problem with this was, by this time, he had started dating again... and his girlfriend had a daughter, too. This began a period of change for me. I was the center of attention, no longer. Now, not only did I have to share my daddy with an adult woman, but with another child, too. I don't really remember consciously having issue with that concept. I was a fairly mature child (which explains the fact that I have reverted so much as an adult). I think for the most part, I took everything in stride ... though I really hated that little bitch of a daughter. Man! What a spoiled little bitch she was!

Then, when I was 7 - Mom met Robin ... who wound up becoming my step father and the dad of my two half sisters ... and Daddy met Dorothy - the psycho-mommy-dearest-nut-case that became my (wicked) step mother (in EVERY sense of the phrase). She had two children - from two different baby daddies (should have been his FIRST clue) ... and they were MESSED UP. I was very close to the age of her daughter, and we got along fairly well. They married when I was 10 or 11, I think ... maybe I was slightly older ... my sisters were around by that point, I think ... so I may have even been 12. 

By the time I turned 13, things had already become strained between my dad and me. Dorothy was a lunatic - and I shit you not! She was NUTS! This was a woman that LITERALLY went behind her daughter with a white glove to check on her dusting capabilities. LITERALLY beat this girl with a metal hanger because it showed up under one of her (the daughter's) sweaters in her closet. I managed to (mostly) escape her wrath ... but it really was only a matter of time. Time that came when I was 14. It had to do with me inviting some kids that I had met at a summer camp I had attended to their place (as they lived in the same community - and at this point, I lived out in boonie-ville with Mom & Robin). I had asked for permission, and it was granted ... but when they showed up, Dorothy had a change of heart and proceeded to embarrass the living shit out of me in front of said friends.

Now that, in and of itself, was not enough to do irreparable damage to my relationship with my father, but what happened next was. 

He took her side.

If you were standing next to me in that moment, you would have actually heard my heart break.

I called my mother and within an hour or so, I was being picked up and taken out to the house of the friends to apologize to them in person and try to smooth some feathers (the whole scene with Dorothy was UGLY ... she absolutely freaked her friggen head off all over me and them ... screaming and acting like a complete psychopath - seriously ... it was bad) ... then I went home. Never to return (or at least never for an overnight visit) again. 

Things have remained strained between my father and I ever since that day. He and Dorothy divorced (not terribly long after that incident - though one had nothing to do with the other) and she took him for everything he was worth ... honestly - any moron could have seen THAT one coming. He then hooked up with the woman he has lived with for the past 20 odd years.

We have stayed in touch (somewhat) over the years, and he was there the day I gave birth to Stretch... being the proud "Papa" (which he is called by his current wife's grandchildren). When I had Shorty, however ... his wife had developed a problem with me due to something I had apparently said to her at a BBQ I had invited them to (almost exactly nine months prior to giving birth, ironically enough)  ... a BBQ at which, I was feelin' pretty groovy ... and when I refused to give her the recipe for my shish-ka-bob marinade (that was from a package, I may add) she informed me that "I owed her" and I (being the flippant smart ass that I am) shot back: "I owe you NOTHING!" (ha ha) 

Apparently, this was a great affront to her personage ... and once again, my father chose his woman over me. 

Honestly, I would have accepted that if he had just been man enough to talk to me about it ... but instead, he told my youngest sister (because he had fixed her computer for her) what I had done ... and how his wife didn't want anything to do with me now - because I had offended her so. She (my sister) then told my mother ... and said in no certain terms should I be told any of this ... and my mother (in typical "Mom" fashion) got me on the horn and dished. Now, I have since interviewed EVERYONE that was in attendance that fateful day, and NOBODY remembers anything even remotely aggressive coming out of me - especially aimed at her. Cripes, I had known the woman 15 bloody years at that stage ... wouldn't THAT ALONE have been enough history to warrant giving me the benefit of the doubt? Write off my behavior as that of a hopeless drunkard? --- which, incidentally was THE TRUTH!

Apparently not.

This little nugget of knowledge was just about enough to seal the casket in my mind, but I had children to consider and this was their grandfather I was about to remove from their lives. So ... I swallowed my pride and tried to smooth things over. We stayed in choppy touch for a year or so, but after he missed Shorty's first birthday (after having made a big deal over Stretch's) I lost what little cool I had left - and I unceremoniously cut him out of my life. This didn't take much, other than just not calling him. It isn't like he had made any effort on his part.

Just about three years passed with no contact between him and me. Bearing in mind that my meddling mother called him - more than once ... and even met with him to discuss our falling out. He still made no effort to rekindle our relationship. In the meantime, Michael had lost both of his parents (well, his father had died 4 days before our original wedding date ... but his mother passed on Stretch's 3rd birthday) and his incessant comments about how much I would regret not patching things up should my father pass away finally wore me down - just this past year.

To be fair (to me) I think that it is HIS responsibility to 'fix' this. HE is the "GROWNUP" in this scenario! I am his ONLY child! MY children are his ONLY BIOLOGICAL GRANDCHILDREN! You would think he would want to have a relationship with us ... no matter what the cost - wouldn't you? All I wanted was for him to smarten up and give a crap about us. Alas, this was not meant to be. He had made reference to the fact that I was keeping my children away from him (when he spoke to my mother) and that he wasn't in a position where he could justify begging me for that privilege.

None the less, I swallowed (hard) and wrote him a lengthy email. I explained to him why I was so hurt. I was very careful of the "tone" of the email ... as to not offend his tender sensibilities. I basically said that I was willing to "start fresh" and just "work from today and go forward", that the girls asked about him often and had a strong desire for family. (Something they clearly had not gotten from me)

He waited EIGHT MONTHS to answer my email. I honestly thought he hadn't gotten it and had considered resending it - but hadn't at that stage. His response clearly indicated to any bozo reading it, that he missed the point by so many miles/kilometers/hectares/acres/aw hell ... PROVINCES that it was actually laughable. Incidentally, my mother firmly believes that his mental capacity has been damaged somehow - as his actions are outside of his normal character.

So here is a question: How much of his crap should I be willing to take after these MANY years of taking said crap?

I didn't dwell on his glaring misunderstanding. I simply attempted to move on and just get him together with his grandchildren. I behaved in a manner befitting a mother that wants what is best for her offspring. I was actually somewhat proud of my bad self (as were my mother and husband) for my performance that first day. He also came out before Christmas to see the girls ... and actually gave them a pretty cool Christmas pressy (one I wish at this point, he hadn't bothered with ... because ...) then, he was gone again. He missed the girls birthdays - AGAIN ... and he is playing the whole: 'it's her turn to call me' game AGAIN! SIGH!

So, how much do I take? When can I safely say "I did everything I could". Just how many things do I actually have to do? This pisses me off so much, I could spit ... and scream ... and spit again!

Why is it that I can not make peace with this?

Some two years ago (nearly to the day, eerily enough), I posted this.

I knew then, that the situation I had involved myself in had come to an end ... and I was okay with that - as much as it stung at the time. He did email me again ... on my birthday that following November. 

I did not respond.

There has been no contact between us since then ... and from the bottom of my heart, I am totally okay with that. It was a truly stupid (and potentially dangerous) thing for me to be messing around with... and it went on for much longer than it ever should have.

There is a sign on a church I drive past every day that says: Don't screw up an apology with an excuse. This is a pretty poignant comment ... it's something I am guilty of ... all.the.time. Today's post will be no exception.

See ... those of you who read this page know that I have experienced somewhat of a transformation over the past several months. I had weight loss surgery and so far have lost 90 of the 144 lbs I want to lose ... honestly, I am thinking another 20 - 30lbs will do it, but we'll see where I land.

I hate to admit this, because it demonstrates all too clearly how superficial and vain I truly am ... but this is a post about truth and I'm coming clean with it ... if for no other reason than so I can sleep again. 

For the past decade (or more) I have been trapped under a pile of weight with the real me lost to the world in all ways ... with the exception of anonymity. On line, I was still 22 year old, hot Dani ... who was funny and quirky and sometimes even 'sessy' ... in a cute and flirtatious kinda way. That was me - Imp (my ONLY nickname from school). It is what the people who have known me the longest refer to as "the old 'Dani'". The person that they are all starting to see 'real time' glimpses of again. I hear it often these days. I honestly don't know if they mean how I look - or how I act ... possibly a bit of both, but it feels SO BLOODY GOOD! 

I mean, I have been reclusive. So full of shame at how I had allowed my body to go so far out of control ... and I COULD NOT fix it. I tried. I honestly did. But the general populace looks at obese people as weak ... or lazy ... or sometimes even stupid. I guess I shouldn't point fingers, since I felt all of that about myself ... and much, much worse. I haven't felt like I deserved anything good in my life for a long time. And the things that are (and have always been) good about my life - that beautiful man to whom I am married and those two gorgeous daughters of mine - well ... that was a fluke in my mind. Something I'd likely screw up one way or another. I have been in a very dark place.

But now ... it's like those first blooms on the trees in the Spring. You know when you look up from your hum drum, work a day life and realize that while you weren't paying attention, everything beautiful in the world came to life again. That is honestly how I feel about me. (Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to insinuate that I am the beautiful bloom ... just that the new and improved me is so much more 'present' in her life.) I am connected to the person I have long related to, at least when playing pretend on line, but couldn't be reconciled to ... until now.

That in mind ... I recently visited his city. 

Now ... until very recently, I had NEVER imagined I would be in a place where I would even consider meeting ANY person who didn't know me in person from the start. People I work with daily (via phone/email etc) have a very different view of me than what would have stood in front of them. People I have connected with over the interwebs ... NO FRICKEN WAY, MAN! Never happen. But now ... well now things look different from my perspective. I am out there (no ... not THAT kind of 'out there' ... well, that too ... but not here). Shopping, buying new clothes ... shoes ... getting my hair done regularly ... having my nails done ... moisturizing, even ... all things I never really bothered with - I mean what was the point, right? When I put the war paint on and get dressed to go out now ... I actually feel good about myself. Not to say there isn't still plenty-o-room for improvement, but I haven't felt like anything short of an ogre for a very ... VERY long time. Then I get on a plane, fly out to a strange city to meet a friend I met here, on my blog (read all about it here) and loved every second of it.

But - all the while, working in the background ... I am thinking about how close 'he' really is. Not that I had any intention of contacting him while there ... too dangerous ... but the fact that I could and I would have been alright with it (mostly). I thought about mailing a note while still in the city ... or possibly even calling from the airport ... but I promised myself before I left home that I would not contact him while there. And, I didn't.

When I got home, however ... the urge did not dissipate. I kept telling myself to sleep on it one more night ... which worked for two nights ... but once back to work, I could wait no longer ... and I emailed him. The note was 'light'. I made reference to the fact that I had been in 'his' city and therefore, he had entered my mind. Mentioned that things were going really great for me (and mine) now ... that "as much as I had damned (his) soul to hell for treating me the way (he) had", I hoped the same could be said for him. I made no insinuation to rekindling our online connection - in fact, I made it clear that at the end of the day, I had been relieved (after recovering from the sting) that it was finished.

This is the EXACT cut and paste of what he sent back - very quickly, I might add (and if he thinks what I sent to him was 'venting' - he's never seen venting):

At least u vented and that is healthy for you - so u shouldn't regret writing.
I seriously cannot communicate with you as I am with someone and do not have room nor the inclination for any female friends.
Sorry to say this but your drama frightens me.
Please respect my privacy and just remember the good times ok.
I seriously cannot have you in my life and am sorry that it hurts you.

Take care and ciao

WTH?

My drama frightens him? To be crystal clear, the whole reason any of this ever even got started was BECAUSE of "my drama" and my ability to write about it. In fact, when I started my blog, it was to replace him ... as (at best) he was a creative writing assignment for me, and (at worst) he was a boost for my otherwise deflated ego. You guys give me all of that - and so much more ... and I don't have to experience the guilt that always tagged along with that connection (even though my hubby was aware of that 'relationship' and saw it for what it was: a silly flirtation that made me feel good about myself - however briefly ... I would NEVER have been so understanding ... he's a saint, my hubby).

I know that I asked for it by contacting him ... I also wonder if there was any response he could have given that would have been better. I mean - had he been overly receptive, I might have gotten sucked back into that BS ... if he had ignored it, I may have thought he didn't get it, and tried to make contact another way ... that would have been so, SO much worse. And, he could have been meaner about it. I guess I really didn't think it through from start to finish (story of my life) and made yet another stupid, rash decision that got me into trouble. It felt like getting snapped in the face with a wet dish towel (and yes, I DO know what that feels like, thanks). My poor, silly pride has been smarting all week.

At the end of the day, it is all for the best. The answers are right there for me to see. I'll never really know what happened that caused him to drop me on my head so abruptly, but I would expect it had to do with a woman ... a real live one that he could play with for realz. Maybe it really was my "drama" ... I just can't see it, since he thrived on it for all of those years and encouraged me to write about it all.the.time. I have now come to terms with the slight against my pride, and know that I got smacked because I deserved it. I don't believe that I deserved to be treated in the manner that I was by him ... no ... I really didn't deserve that, but I should have left him securely lodged in my past.

My response to his response was a good one. I said: Excellent. I am happy for you. You will never hear from me again. (... and nothing more - which was harder for me than any other part, honestly)

And he won't.

Yup ... it is THAT time ... the time where I pull off the shade and expose my ugliest of truths.

Below, you are going to see some scary ... scary pictures. These are images that cause my insides to curl up and contract. It is so incredibly difficult to reconcile these images with myself. 

Clearly, this was never how I saw myself... even in the depths of self loathing, I never looked this bad.

This lovely photo is from my 37th birthday ... this would be one year and 5 months ago.

This one makes me laugh because of the look on my face and the sign hanging on the wall behind me. This would have been from the same year ... we're wrapping Christmas pressies ... so early to mid December.

*shudders*

Now for some "afters" ...

As most of you know, in November of 2010, I had a Sleeve Gastrectomy. Since having this procedure completed, I am most pleased to report that I have lost a whopping 85lbs! Not only that, but I have gained mobility, health and an overwhelming freedom to do the things I love ... most importantly ...

*snort* ... he appreciates that, too :)

These were both taken last week (on the 15th, not the 14th ... that damned camera date hates me!) I was headed to work and got Hubs to snap a couple of photos. I still have 64lbs to go to get all the way down to my original goal ... but those jeans I am wearing are 16's ... and that is down from barely squeezing into a 24wide.

It's funny, you know ... I even look at these 'afters' and feel sick to my stomach. The ego is a funny little (or largely out of control) thing. I am so happy I made the decision to go forward with this life changing procedure. The weight is coming off very slowly now ... like a pound or two a week at best ... but it's still coming off.

I have changed so much in the past 5 months, it's almost scary. I booked a trip to a strange city to meet someone who, although she means the world to me - and I believe we are 'sisters from other misters', I have never met her in person before ... and this time last year it would have NEVER happened. 

I guess it's true that you should never say never. 

My husband is nearly bursting with pride at the ways I am changing. He told me the other day that my first goal (which is 26 more pounds) should be sufficient ... and maybe I'll stop trying to lose after that. HA! I love it! He makes comments all the time about me 'picking up another guy' while I am out. As if ... I couldn't have built myself a better life partner if I had been given the primordial goo to do it myself. But I do love that he says it. Gives me a little tickle.

I guess this brings me to the end of this post. This is a hard one for me to put out there. I'm baring all in this one ... be gentle - K?

D-Out

So ... I thought I would do an update post ... it's been a while.

I did not keep track of how much I lost in each month. I can say that as of Sunday morning, I was down 71 lbs ... 3.5 lbs from 1/2 way.

This has been quite a ride, I must say. I went from borderline psychotic impatience leading up to my surgery date, to abject fear the day before and day of surgery, to misery, doubt and regret after the fact (for about a week), to tentative hope after my first weigh in, to excitement at the results and eventually back to psychotic impatience at the speed of which the scale co-operates. My brain scares me sometimes.

I have behaved somewhat like a spoiled child with some aspects of this journey. I have such a difficult time with writing down my daily food intake. I hate it on a level that borders obsession. I can tell you that it is very unusual for me to eat or drink something that is "off plan" or "bad" per se. I did have a 'cheat' weekend - or, I guess really it was just a day this weekend. I had wine ... and multi grain nachos and salsa on Saturday night. (But the wine went a long way to helping me burn off any extra calories and/or fat before the end of the night with hubs) <--- :)!

I have also discovered that exercising is not fun. Even when you have already lost a lot of weight ... even when you go so far as to have 85% of your stomach cut out ... you do not magically wake up the next day with the overwhelming desire to jump on a treadmill, or go to a gym, or even take the dog for a walk. It.Is.Work ... Every.Time! I hate it ... and I struggle with it, every day. I made a deal with myself last week that I would spend 1/2 hour on my treadmill every day for 30 days. I did it Monday and Tuesday and by Wednesday, I was so sore, I just couldn't face it (I had spent four hours swimming in a pool with my kids on the previous Saturday, so every muscle in my body was sore from that) ... so I missed Wed, Thurs and Friday ... then Saturday, I worked in the house like an animal ... and Saturday night ... well ... see above ... and by yesterday, I was so sore again that I skipped last night, too (though we had planned another swimming trip and ran out of time).

The next person that insinuates (even if it is imagined on my part) that this was "the easy way out of my problem" is getting a smack in the mouth ... or possibly lower, depending. I won't minimize the tool that this surgery provides. It is amazing ... but you are kidding yourself if you think for a second that you will not have to work hard to be successful.

I can say now, when being completely honest with myself, that I may have been under the impression that this would come more easily than it does. Not that I am not losing weight ... I continue to do so, but every morning I have to reprogram my inner self... and every afternoon and night ... every time I plan my next meal ... every evening after dinner ... the things that have contributed to my weight gain are all running in the background of the weight loss ... just like viruses on your computer ... they are there ... quietly doing the same damage they started 18 years ago. Every time I step on the scale and it defines my mood, energy and overall commitment to these changes. Every time I see myself in the mirror, and the changes are STILL not fast enough, or good enough ... or when people don't notice I've dropped so much weight ... or, worse, still ... they DO and then ask me what I am doing, and I freeze.

But I AM committed to this. I have a remarkable tool to help me succeed. I am getting closer every day ... and as I make my way through this life altering experience, I am feeling better ... looking better and with a whole lot more work, I will actually BE better.

For those of you just beginning this journey, I wish you strength, love and joy .... because they are what will make you successful, luck has nothing to do with it.

Well ... today I am exactly eleven weeks out from my surgery. That sounds like such a short time ... but it hasn't really felt that way.

The weight loss, though substantial, has started to slow considerably - not that I didn't expect that it would, just that it is hard not to fixate on that stupid effin' scale. It's like it controls my entire mood. My husband has taken to hiding it so I can't look at it.

There have been a few rough patches over the past month - going back to work was a whole lot harder than I thought it would be. Plus, I sit on my arse at a desk all bloody day ... not like when I was home and going like a blue ass fly. Plus, I find the stressiness of my work environment is a little on the unhealthy side anyway ... so the spirits have been a little low and my energy has been zapped. (read - I am not exercising anywhere NEAR where I should be)

On the up side, I am down 65 lbs. I am wearing size 18 pants today ... down from 24 wide.  These are 1 of 3 pair of pants I bought over four years ago at a second hand store that I couldn't fit into at the time, but promised myself I would get into soon ... HA! All three pair fit me now! I also had size 18 JEANS on this past weekend ... for a whole day! (so not just squeezed into and then discarded). There are certainly big changes going on with my body. I really needed to be photo documenting this ... but I'll piece a few pics together in the coming weeks to demonstrate my personal shrinkage.

Otherwise, I am struggling with the winter blues. I hate this time of year. February is usually my hardest month. Hubs and I are planning a short little "trip" with the kids. We're going to book a hotel room and spend a day and night in the city, where we'll take in the T-Rex exhibit at the Museum of Natural History and then the girls can spend the afternoon in the pool (at the hotel) and we'll hit a cool restaurant for dinner and then maybe watch a movie (in bed) in our hotel room. I think they will find that to be TRES KEWL. I find I am wanting for Hubs and I to be able to do something that is 'just us' (except that I kinda feel like offing him just now) but the girls need some special time too ... so I think we'll do this for now - it should help break up the February blahs a bit.

Hubs has started his own business and is finding it to be a little on the stressful side. I have faith that he'll get it figured out. He's determined to involve me in EVERY LITTLE DECISION ... and I know if he was blocking me from it, I'd likely be wild ... but I honestly don't want to be involved. I don't want to do the accounting ... don't want to set up the web site ... don't want to be responsible for making up the invoices or recording messages or designing logos or mailing crap out to people, or making a fucking e-flyer to send out. I just can't bring myself to give a crap about it. (<--- and this really worries me, because I bloody should care)

I know that makes me a selfish wife ... and I also know it is driving him batty that I am so reluctant to jump in ... but since he has been doing this, he has not been doing much of anything else in the house. Plus, I think I spoiled him bad while I was off. I find that with working again, having to come home and figure out a meal for my fussy kids, my husband and my mother ... I have to also try and come up with something for myself that is both nutritionally sound AND won't commit assault on my already battered tummy. Usually, I am clearing away the breakfast dishes that I served to my children the morning before ... (still sitting on the table or counter where they left them ...with dried cereal bits and congealed milk and/or cat slobber - because he has undoubtedly been up at them throughout the day having a feast) in order to have room to cook or set the table. I know - poor me, right? If it's such a big deal, why don't I get up earlier and make certain the breakfast & lunch prep mess is tidy before I leave for work, right? (Just for the record ... his business venture is done FROM HOME ... so he is at home all day, while I am at work and the girls are at school. There is simply no reason why he couldn't take 10 minutes out of his day to load and run the damned dishwasher ...)

WRONG!! I get those kids up every bloody morning and get them ready for school WHILE I am trying to get myself ready for work. I feed them, make their lunches, get them peed, teeth brushed, faces washed, hair brushed, dressed, socks on and into their snow suits (a feat that is substantially more difficult than it sounds - especially since Stretch has taken to arguing about EVERY.FARKING.STEP!!!)... all while I am attempting to spackle and plaster, plus designing both breakfast and lunch ... and snacks that are healthy, tummy friendly AND measured out so I can keep track of my calories/protein/fat/carbs ... 'cause I am supposed to be writing this shit down (no surprise, that I haven't been - right?) All the while, my husband is lounging in BED! Ask me why I have been so fucking cranky for the past few weeks.

So, no! I am NOT interested in taking on any more responsibility in this house! Not with your business, not with ANYTHING! (Geez ... I actually had not articulated any of this to myself and haven't been able to figure out why I have been so hateful to him for the past few weeks ... *light bulb ignites and blows up* ... this blog may well save the life of my husband!)

Well ... I must say, I feel somewhat better having gotten this off my chest. I guess I should really be having this conversation with him. I really don't want to discourage him in any way - I know this opportunity has the potential to be very good for him ... but if some things don't change in this set up, I am afraid things could continue down an ugly path with us ... which essentially means that I will continue my descent into evil three-headed psycho bitch-dom. I would expect he'd rather I just told him.

Guess I should get some work done now. Have a great Tuesday!

D-Out

Sooo ... I managed to pick up a nasty little flu virus a mere 8 weeks after having one entire side of my tummy sewn up with surgical staples ... nice.

I will say that I was pretty scared for a little bit, but I am happy to report I have remained intact in all the important inward-organ-type-places. This flu is a nasty bitch, too. My entire family has had it. It seems to take about 5 - 6 days before it starts to buzz off. I was down for the count on Tuesday ... so incredibly sick, I wanted hubs to smother me ... but he was still too weak to get a good seal on the pillow.

On the up side, I lost 5 pounds! Rough way to do it, but hell - I'll take what I can get!! So ... that brings my grand total to 61 lbs lost!! Gimme a WOOT WOOT!! 

I can safely say at this stage that it is getting noticeable. I put on a pair of pants yesterday (to come into work) that were actually very tight before surgery ... and they were actually dragging on the floor, they are now so loose. Wild, no? They looked horrid, but then - so did I yesterday. I was still really feeling nastified. Today, I am wearing dress pants I haven't had on in close to a year ... and they are LOOSE! 

I haven't done my measurements in a while, and will likely do so on the weekend ... I'm starting to get that Shar pei dog look - lots of loose skin, but the fat is going. (Next stop ... $10K on tummy tuck surgery ... sorry Hubs ... no new cars for a while)

Anyhoo ... my camera is finally working again and I guess I will soon have to start posting pics ... if for no reason other than for posterity. 

I suppose I should go and try to locate some soup or something for sustenance ... I haven't really eaten anything for about 72 hours. This virus means business ... I try to eat, but I just can't do it. Next, I'll be in a stall because my body has gone into starvation mode ... then I'll be pissed!

Hope everyone else is avoiding the plague.

Happy Thursday!!

PS - I FINALLY got money from Employment Insurance ... Y-E-S-T-E-R-D-A-Y!! Nearly NINE weeks later ... UNCOOL, EI ... UNCOOL!