Allow Me To Introduce You To Pure Inspiration.

This week’s blog is taking a slight detour to the usual format of me chatting shit at you guys about the usual shit. Literal shit.

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Before my surgery I spent many hours trawling the internet trying to find blogs, information and forums from pre / post op sleeve’heads to try and gage some legit information about the process I was entering.

This was tres deficile man, truss. Any active bloggers always seemed much older than me and 99.9% of the time, American.

This made it pretty fucking difficult to gage was information was relevant to me. The terminology, the foods, vitamins, measurements. Like. How the fuck does anyone know what actual measurement 1 cup is? SOS yo.

Deciding to start my own blog turned out to be more lucrative than I initially realised. I initially wanted to be a voice in laymen’s terms for people like me, scared shitless, clueless and no fuckin idea where to start. A beginners guide some what.

What I’ve ended up with is an amazing network of really fuckin clued up people that are all experiencing everything I’m experiencing in their own unique was, who teach me things on a daily basis and who I can talk to about the good the bad and ugly sides of life post op.

Where were these people before my op? Why couldn’t I find them months ago?

Weight Loss Surgery still has a very jaded stigma attached to it you see. If I look back to very early days of my own ‘journey’ I didn’t tell anyone at all. Maybe through embarrassment, maybe because I was unsure if this was just a pipe dream.

When i did decide to open my big fat mouth I overshared the best way I know how. DIS BLOG and obvz 213546633543436536 selfies on Instagram. Standard.

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Not everyone feels the need to overshare as much as this big mouth but be assured they still have a lot to say. And I thought it might be a grand idea to share that with you guys.

I put together a bunch of questions I wished I could have asked someone pre op and sent them to 2 of my personal fave Instagram bbz to give me the lowdown on their personal experiences with total anonymity.

First up with have, well,for the sake of anonymity Let”s call her… Babe A

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  • Why did you choose to choose to keep your surgery secret?

Very simply, because I bloody wanted to! I was open about my gastric band, so when it didn’t work, it was completely humiliating and I couldn’t go through that again. I’m not completely secret, it’s more a need to know basis. I work at the hospital I had my surgery at and literally EVERYONE there knows! It’s a massive part of my life there and I love talking about it. If someone flat out asks, I am more than happy to share. I just don’t advertise it, much in the same way an alcoholic or recovering drug addict wouldn’t with their addictions, mine just happens to be food.

  • Are your tits still tits?

Absolutely not, I resemble a prepubescent boy. They haven’t sagged though, I legit just have itty bitty titties haha! I have an augmentation booked for next year though and after that, I fully intend on having my baps out 99% of the time!

  • Why surgery? Why not just diet? It’s so easy right, everyone tells you just say NO to food. Because that is SO very easy. Why go as extreme?

For me it had gotten to the point of do or die, quite literally. I don’t think I was strong enough to do it on my own, I needed the help of my *tool* (another horrendous term) to start me off! I needed something that there was no going back, no option to quit or get out clause.

  • What information after surgery did you wish you knew before hand? Would this have made you think twice?

Hmmm, I was actually very prepared for surgery. I totally immersed myself in everything WLS related and kinda became obsessed, I thought I knew exactly what to expect and that nothing would shock me. I was VERY wrong! 2 days post-op I suffered major complications. My bowel twisted and became obstructed, to be blunt I actually started vomiting faecal matter. I was rushed back in for emergency surgery and then developed horrendous internal infections. I ended up being in hospital for over 3 months and having various surgeries to treat complications. Despite all this, I honestly would do it again in a heartbeat. It took me a good 6 months until I was fully well again, and I regretted it every single day, but I can honestly say it has all been worth it. Having the bypass has ultimately saved my life.

  • For the juicy details that we all love to know about. Has your sex life improved? TELL US THE GOSSIP

HAHA where to begin?! So I completely went hard core Maria Von Trapp nun style for the first 9 months. I was completely focused on me and didn’t want any distractions or anything getting in my way. I also wasn’t in the right head space and it has taken quite a while for my brain to catch up. However, I am loving dating again! I feel like a teenager at the moment, it’s all new. As for sex, I haven’t slept with anyone I had pre-surgery so I can’t really compare. Although, can I just say… things are a lot more enjoyable when you’re not huffing and puffing struggling to catch your breath, or your huge belly hanging in the way. One thing I am struggling with is feeling a little like a fraud! When I meet someone now, they can’t automatically tell I look like a melted candle underneath the double Spanx and dress and it makes me feel dishonest. At least when I was bigger, I felt like “what you see is what you get” whereas now, I dread getting undressed in front of someone new.

  • Mental or Physical happiness?

Mental. A million percent mental. I truly believe that they are part and parcel of one another and that you will never achieve physical happiness until your head is in the right place! One of my biggest NSVs was coming off of anti-depressants and to be totally honest, that meant so much more to me than the number on the scale or the size in my jeans.

  • How did you survive the dreaded hair loss phase? How long did this last?

The hair loss started in month 4 and went on for 5 months. It was devastating and I would say I lost about 40% of my hair. As soon as it had stopped falling out, I had a LA weave fitted and it has been the best decision ever. It is the same length as my own hair but has just bulked things out. I refused to cut my hair and I still won’t! It has actually grown back even thicker and more out of control that pre surgery so I can assure you that it is temporary and things do get better!

  • Excess skin is a very real issue for many post ops. Is this something you have to deal with? Would you consider skin removal?

FUCK YEAH! There isn’t an inch of my body that has escaped excess skin. My stomach is the worst because I always had a double belly and my navel is hiding between a roll! I have just booked my plastics for May 2018… new bod pending!!!

  • Do you still see yourself as the fatty you once was no matter what the scales say?

Yes of course, I don’t think I will ever not see myself as a fat gal! I lived as one for over 24 years; it isn’t something you can just unlearn.  I hope that one day I can reach a point where weight and body image aren’t major factors for consideration in my life.

  • And Finally, One day your kid comes to you crying because of their weight. You know their struggle, are you happy to take them down the route you chose? 

Should it get to that stage, I would 100% support that. However, I truly feel that this process has taught me how to develop a healthy relationship with food, one where I am confident around food and in control of my actions. I would hope that as a parent, these were values I could instil in my child so that they wouldn’t have to go through everything I did as a morbidly obese child.

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A&E = Acid & Excrement, In My Case.

So lots of fun things have been happening this last week.

Spent an ultimate LOL night at the hospital thanks to this acid reflux business that now seems ever present in my day to day life.

Normally an attack will last approximately 20 minutes. I pace around, guzzle Lansoprazole with Gaviscon and maybe stew in a hot bath for an hour or so whilst my muscles start to relax.

NORMALLY.

This time was a right hoot, 4 solid hours of torment. Pure agony. Now, I pride myself on having a pretty solid pain threshold. I once fell out of a shower cubicle and broke my leg before managing to get a flight from Switzerland dragging my club foot along for the ride. IM SO HARD.

But this, this was bull shit man. I tried to walk the pain off and almost fainted outside my flat before vomiting multiples times. And yes, Gaviscon does taste worse coming up than it does going down.

In A&E I was pushed through quite quickly which confirmed my initial thoughts, I was about to die.

FAREWELL CRUEL WORLD.

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I had bloods taken, piss samples taken, pooh samples taken, abdominal x-rays, chest x-rays and an ECG for good measure.

I spent the foreseeable on a drip of meds to dull the pain and keep me alive. Slight Exaggeration.

After being told, in layman’s terms that there is not set cure, only prevention I am now banned from Caffeine and a multitude of other lifelong fave’s to keep the acid at bay.

Does this technique of cutting out every bit of happiness from my life work? Not always.

A cracker sent me to hell and back the other day. A fucking lowlife cracker.

Aside from that fresh hell I’m 2 lbs off a 7 Stone weight loss. I’m happy with that. Dead happy.

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I’m happy my skin is not dripping off like water. Happy my tits don’t touch my legs when I sit down. Happy I’m not bald. Happy I’m healthier. Happy I’m not dead via internal Acid Gang warfare.

Things could be worse.

I’ve bought my first 10kg Kettlebell this week and I feel like I potentially could be in the next series of Gladiators and of course after much deliberation I have decided my gladiator name would be…. Lathargica.

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Maybe that’s because it’s Monday and I’m tired but it’d a fo’sho front runner so thus far.

Laters. x

Happiest Fatty in Homerton… STILL (Tough Crowd)

I had my 2nd group session of post fatty chat at the hospital yesterday.

You remember the first session where I seemed to be the only one not crying into my protein shake about how I was now unable to chow down on a family sized chocolate bar, it was embarrassing man.

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This one was slightly better, less tears.

It was amazing to see these people 3 months down the line. They all looked, well, smaller. I now understand people’s reactions when they see me for the first time since the operation as i have always assumed It’s just polite to tell someone they look like they’ve lost weight after they’ve had an operation to cut their belly off. And as I don’t see the results in myself it was reassuring to see them in others.

We went around the group and each spoke briefly about our new eating habits.

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So Sandra, how’re you getting on’… Sandra looks up from her Turkey slices wrapped in cling film now sweating in her clammy grip.

Well, the thing is I’m still really struggling to eat full meals. I still get very upset at dinner time when him indoors and the kids sit down to a roast and I’m left there watching and well, it just really gets to me’

Everyone nodded in agreement. How dare those bastards sit and eat their tea in front of us well we sit here like a shaking shitting Donkey from an NSPCC advert?

I watched from the back left hand corner of the room trying not to laugh and shout at them all. ‘BUT YOU’RE NOT STARVING ARE YOU, SANDRA. YOU CAN EAT. YOU COULD EAT WITH THEM YOU SILLY COW BUT YOU JUST LOVE MOANING DON’T YOU. YOU FUCKIN GREMLIN’

Look, I fuckin get it man. It’s hard at times. Can be frustrating. But come on, get a grip. If I can sit and eat a roast with my friends and family why can’t they?

Yes, my roast is minuscule in comparison to the others but who cares, it tastes ace and is great protein if you make a few adjustments. A little bit of chicken, a sprout and maybe a tater if I’m feeling fruity. I can enjoy that just as much as you can scran your roast like a bossman. What’s the beef?. mmmmmmm BEEF.

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It just felt to me like I was hearing a lot of excuses. Whinging for no real reason. Only me and 2 others had even started going to the gym yet. The other 7 still didn’t feel ready, was too tired.

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I’m over these people man. These are the one’s that will be blending up Mars Bars and chugging them down convincing themselves it’s a treat day every other day and end up having another surgery 4 years down the line. What a fuckin shame.

MOVING ON

I went on to have my own personal one on one with my dietitian. I’ve lost 56% of my excess body weight so far. Sounds good yeah?

But it did get me thinking. If I’ve lost 56% of my EXCESS body weight and still have another 44%, what the fuck do they class my target weight as?

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I’m 5’9 and 33 years old and looking forward to be a happy healthy 11 / 12 stone. By their math it looks like I’ll have to be about 2 stone before I’m no longer classed as overweight. Liberty bro. Pure. Liberty.

So, what to do about this. The plan of action is keep my own personal target in mind. When i reach that target, reevaluate the situation. If I look like road kill and my skin is blowing in the wind behind me, i’ll know it;s time to stop.

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I AM ALEX MACK.

Since the 21st April 2017 I have now lost 82.6lbs and I look like a deflating water balloon.

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That’s fine. FINE. But like, when this belly of joy finally fuck off? ‘It’s been 3 months HAVE PATIENCE LILLI’. No. I shall not.

I’m morphing into a modern day Alex Mack. SOS.

Too dramatic?

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I’ve decided to eat no more, no less than 800 calories a day for the rest of my life. Is this achievable?

I fear not as I cast my eyes down to my turmeric stained fingers from fishing out a piece of Chicken from Leigh’s curry last night after a bottle of wine. Oops.

Don’t judge me, it was Thursday. And everyone knows that Thursday is the new Friday. AND I’m not going to drink tonight AND I’m already over explaining myself through the guilt of LOVING BOOZE SO MUCH.

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I have so much guilt over drinking booze again 3 months down the line. I imagine my fat little liver bathing in a swamp of Pinot Grigio wearing a skin tight Tankini like a fat kid by the poolside in Benidorm covered in Ice Cream.

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Oh liver, what doth become of me?

I tried to redeem myself this morning by wearing my tropical swimming cozzie under my work threads. How can I not go to the gym / swim straight from work if I’m already dressed for the occasion. FOOL PROOF G.

Little do my work colleagues know (who think I’m super dedicated to the gym)  that I’m only wearing this flamboyant M&S cozzie to work because it was easier than finding knickers and a bra this morning amidst my white wine hangover daze.

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On the subject of brazier’s I’ve road tested out my new Shock Absorber Gym Bra thing and FUCK IN HELL its pure magic man.

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Like, my tits are almost protruding out of my back it straps them in so hard. Brilliant.

It’s amazing how much more energy I have to focus on exercise when I’m not contending with the ‘Mitchell Brothers’ scrapping away in my bap hammock.

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I’ve never experienced life with small breasts before. Not since I was like, 3.

Anyone with big boobs will agree that the minute you whip your bra off after a long day you can’t help but stand, belly out, head back jiggling your boobs in your hands for a good 5 minutes before you acknowledge how weird the situation has become and you put a T Shirt on before the neighbours in the flat facing call the police.

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So strapping them down to make life somewhat easier has become a real treat. I feel like this is the female version of ‘tucking’

I shall just leave you with this mental image. You’re welks yo.

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