Miss me?

I'm back. It's just been so busy that I've not had time to be thoughtful and write. Tonight is the night though. I have found that I've missed writing, even though there's not been time nor inclination when time does allow. All the stars and planets have aligned tonight so that I can sit down and write the news and my thoughts.

First, let's talk lapband, shall we? Let's. I've lost 50 lbs. YEA ME! They are very proud of me at the "fill station". The dr. there told me that they couldn't ask more from me. I'm right on track. I greatly appreciate knowing this because I do, about once a week, take a day or two to eat chips and queso. Yes, chips go down quite easily and the queso and margarita helps. Seriously. I soak the chips in the queso, they soften then I drink the margaritas with them. Drinking, as many of you may remember, is a no-no. I feel like I'm being bad when I drink and eat and I guess I am.

My sweet tooth is gone. Very rarely do I crave something sweet and when I do, one or two bites takes care of it. WEIRD! I don't understand the magic, but I accept it. I've now had 4 fills and I think we're getting there. With this latest fill, I can eat about 3/4 cup of food before it hurts my chest. I should probably stop 1-2 bites before I do. I just had it Thursday and still am not to solid meats, so definitely in the learning mode. Learning=Pain.

After each fill, I'm convinced I'll never be able to enjoy food again and have a night of pain and sadness. Don't feel bad for me though--it's just part of the process I think. After 4 fills, I have seen the pattern. It's kind of like when you're PMS-ing and insane. You know that it's a momentary insanity (although some of us have to write letters to ourselves to remind us that it is the hormones. I'm not going to name names ((really)), but I have a friend who would get so insane with her PMS that she wrote herself a note to be handed to her by her boyfriend when she was in crazy mode. This note was from my friend to herself. If memory serves me, which is always questionable, the letter reminded her that she was insane from hormones only and asked herself to calm down. This could be a Seinfeld episode.) So I have an evening of being distraught while I'm in pain from eating soup, let's say. The next day, I begin to heal a bit more and the sun starts to come out. Today was a better day, but Saturday night, I had my first full fledge puking. NOT your regular deal here either.

I had soup for dinner on Friday night at Chili's. Chicken enchilada soup--devine! It was so good that I ordered two more orders of it to go. I successfully ate it for lunch on Saturday, then was having it for dinner and it was a no. A big, big NO. So there I am in horrible pain, spitting slime into a cup for an hour and a half. I go ahead and get ready for bed, lay down to watch tv. I know I'm going to be exhausted when it finally passes. After a while in bed, I start coughing. Cough, Cough, Cough PUKE! All over my sheets and comforter. I didn't care that I had to clean the bed, the pain was gone!

I can only imagine the freak show that the first lap band person must've lived. I'd have thought I was dying if I didn't know someone before me had been successful at this business. Crazy Crazy stuff, friends. With this last fill, I'm not completely sure what the yes and no list is these days. I'm going to be eating mostly mushies for another week. That soup incident fuh-reaked me out. (Remember, I go into detail for those of you curious. If you aren't curious, skim on.)

No clothes in my closet fit me. None. Every pair of pants I own that I can get into can be taken off without unbuttoning them. If they have to be unbuttoned to be removed, I can't get my butt into them. I have maybe two shirts that are flattering. I'm smaller than people know I think but you can't tell because my clothes are all so big. I'm not buying until I absolutely must. Getting close to that point. Happy problem to have, I suppose.

I bought a Wii system and some games. I rationalized it by saying that I won't buy a gym membership and the games will get me off the couch some. I did buy Dance Dance Revolution Hottest Party. I'm cool like that and I have hot parties. Hot parties where we bounce around like dorks. Sexy, hot, partying dorks. My neice and nephew are going to love it. I think my 'rents (that's parents) will enjoy it more than they know.

Let me tell you about painting. It sucks hot wind. SUUUUUCKS. Never again. One wall is Pool Party blue, the other is Island Orange. I adore the colors. They are exactly what I'd envisioned. Island Orange took a primer coat then a gallon and a quart of paint and it still could've used two more coats. I surrendered to the wall. It won. Looks grrrreat, just as it is. It took me two evenings from 4:30 to 8:00 and one Saturday morning from 8-12 along with 3 trips to Lowes. My equipment kept getting upgraded. It was only two walls, so I thought the cheap equipment would do it. Negatory. I wanted the good stuff by the third trip and I bought it. The trim still needs two touch ups and I can't face it. It calls to me, but I ignore it. Doesn't bother me if I don't look at it, so I don't.

I'm watching Antique Roadshow while I type this. A lady bought a pitcher and bowl in Intercourse, Pennsylvania. No lie. She just said Intercourse, Pennsylvania on national television with a straight face. She's a better woman than I.