RIP 10 Stones of FAT! Laters Potatoes

YO! Long-time no see hey?

So I took a little time out from my incessant chatting of shit whilst my whole weight loss ‘journey’ was being severely dominated by the bane of my existence that is my Gall Bladder.

I have bored myself to tears many times now talking about them, moaning about them, over explaining to my boss why I can’t get off the floor because of them. Unfortunately the stones care not for my plea to FUCK OFF and remain a solid fixture until my surgeon whips the whole gall bladder out.

When will this be? How long is a piece of string, Bro? Who the fuck knows.

I do however FINALLY my Pre Op Assessment have on the 22nd on January so maybe…MAYBE we will get some confirmation. A little shiny light at the end of this pretty fuckin painful tunnel.

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Anyway, let’s move on to more pressing issues like.. ME HITTING MY FUCKIN GOAL WEIGHT.

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Yas, it happened. Now, let me first of all stress that this is MY goal weight, not my Doctors goal weight.

According to my Bariatric team I should weigh approximately 10 to 11 stone whereas for my height and build my aim has always been 12 Stone aka 168 Lbs aka 76.6Kg

Now, call me crazy but having lost 10 stone 2Lbs aka 142 Lbs aka 64.3Kg I feel quite a sense of achievement in that.

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I feel healthy happy, both mentally and physically and I whilst it’s been such a challenge adjusting my mind-set to my new diet I feel like I have a great balance I am confident I can maintain which to me is the most important thing. Not going backwards.

Going backwards, the dreaded gain, the ‘popping that one extra mince pie in at Christmas’ which will catapult you a hundred miles an hour straight back to Fatty Ville is every VSG Post Op’ers realest nightmare.

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I weighed myself this morning after a heavy weekend on the sauce in Switzerland followed by a Chinese last night upon our return.

1lb gain. MELTDOWN?  No, I’m not going down with that ship. It’s so very easy to become obsessed with the scales, too easy to beat yourself up and tear yourself down over a 1 pound gain as opposed to cheer yourself on for the other 168 that you have actually lost.

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Today I’m back on my protein shake breakfast, my skinny decaf and my high protein low carb lunch. That lb will have fucked off my Friday and life shall go on.

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I’m guessing what you want to know by now is what happens to someone’s body when they lose 10stone?

Okay, the truth. My truth at least.

My tits are fucked. They look like suet puddings.

Nice with chips & gravy but not what you want stuck to your chest. When I lie down I feel like a 6 year old boy. My ribs stick out higher than my boobs. Not ideal.

Weirdly it’s not like they’ve sagged, just deflated. Could I have picked a more apt blog name before this all happened? Maybe I jinxed myself. Ace

Next is my arse. ‘What arse’ I hear you say? Exactly. It’s gone. The only reason I know I still have one is thanks to my constant state of protein induced constipation.

Belly? It’s defo like jelly now. I kind of like it. Feels like velvet when I’m in the bath and I squidge it all together.

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Will I need plastic surgery? Maybe. I 100% want my boobs reflated.  I have always had jugs a plenty and I miss them greatly. Plus it would be nice for my Fiancé to revert back to my original nick name of ‘Big Joooceh Titties’ as opposed to the ‘Tiny Cupcake Tits’ he calls me now.

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Urgh.

Don’t Whinge If You’re Gonna Binge

Why is it still so easy to drink alcohol?

I wish it was more of a chore but it’s just as easy as it ever was.

Why can’t I drink water like I can drink Wine?

And Beer.

And Prosecco.

And anything else wet.

As healthy as I can be all day, week, month.. the minute someone asks me if I want a drink. Bitch be like…

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I’m hungover in work today and its days like this that make me feel like this operation never existed.

I’m binge eating.

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I’ve eaten every single piece of food for the day that I brought to work with me.

In fairness, thanks to my unprepared hungover brain I didn’t actually bring any legit pre prepped goodness with me. I fear my little food haul is somewhat lacklustre

I asses my food pile to see what damage I’ve just done to myself and I’m alarmed to see that even in this fragile state things are somewhat very positive.

Has my brain finally engaged and processed that to binge on hangover food it doesn’t always mean that the chosen binge food has to be total fat head horse shit?

Here’s the damage.

100g of Bernard Mathews Turkey Meat – 119 Calories & 20.7g of Protein

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25g of Skinny Popcorn – 114 Calories & 8.6g Protein 

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Half, so (30g) of CarbKilla Protein bar –  107 Calories & 12g Protein 

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I mean come on, things could be so much fucking worse. I even chose to walk 30 minutes around Notting Hill for the fucking pleasure of it before getting into work 1.5 hours EARLY.

Of course it helps that I can now leave work early but it’s also because i’m pretty sure i’m bloody Spartacus.

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I now feel pretty pleased with myself. I bought these items without a second thought, the internal turmoil of SAUSAGE BUTTY WITH LURPACK ON ACE BREAD WITH LOADS OF BROWN SAUCE vs Fruit.

Okay fine so I didn’t buy any fucking fruit BUT I didn’t buy the Sausage Butty either did I? NO. Lilli 1 – Life 0

I purchased Low Cal, High Protein snacks that was through my very own pudgey little fat brain’s choice. YAS.

On a low note I now have no food left as I gave the other half of my Protein Bar to Ginger Joe in the office and now I feel so sad like only Chunk from the Goonies could possibly understand.

Oh Chunk.

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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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I AM NOT MO MOWLAM. Repeat To Self 10 Times & Breathe.

PANICK OVER.

The stall was but a very short one. Things haven’t moved majorly since my last weigh in but they have moved. That’s all that matters.

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My last weigh in 28.08.17 I was at 7 stone 2.9lbs lost. As of today I’m 7 stone 4.7lbs lost. 2.2lbs in 2 weeks I not the worst thing 5 months down the line.

I’m considering upping my meal replacement shakes from 1 a day to 2 and being strict to make sure I’m not exceeding 800 calories a day.

I’m aware everyone has their own process which works well for them but I feel like I have no clue as what I should / should not be consuming calorie wise on a daily basis at this stage. Then again, I had a heavy weekend. My brain is mush.

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Is it sustainable to live off 800 calories a day? Any advice on that is more than welcome man, hook a brother up AKA tell me what to do.

ACID UPDATE. My theory of never sitting down to eat ever again in my whole entire life seem to be working.

Eat – Walk, Eat – Walk.

The minute I’m sat down post food the death pang kicks in and I need to dash out the door to power walk it off immediately but shit gets serious.

I very nearly missed a vital hair appointment last week thanks to that dreaded pang but luckily a mighty fart after a power walk brought me back to the game.

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Its vile man but you got to do what you got to do, Yas?

Speaking of that hair appointment, I booked myself for a fresh cut and colour after months of going seriously au natural. With bright ginger roots beaming through like a glow worm enough was enough.

I came away from the salon £172.00 lighter and also very sad to the core of my icy cold heart. The hair was buff, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was it for the first time it was very apparent to me how much thinner my hair has become. WEEP.

AM I MO MOWLAM? I asked myself through teary eyes.

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It’s always been my ultimate fear to have Mo Mowlam hair. Fine baby hair spare across a big bulbas head like spun sugar on Croquembouche

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You see where i’m going with this? Not the strongest of looks is it?

I have this recurring nightmare that ill wake up one morning, sit upright in bed and realise I’ve morphed into a hard boiled egg. A bald, sponge of protein filled mess.

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How to stop my mind running away with itself? No clue man, wine?

Wine always helps.

If you’re not totally sold on my wine theorem then try a before and after photo to jolt you back to reality.

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These also help A LOT.

Not as much as wine though.

 

 

 

Is Belly Gonna Get Me?

I weighed myself today and I have lost NO WEIGHT in the last 7 days.

NOT ONE FUKIN POUND.

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I had my surgery on the 21st April 2017 so that makes me 4.5 months post op. I feel this is a little early to just stop losing weight, no?

Is this ‘THE STALL’ I hear people refer to or is this just a bad week? HOW DO I KNOW?

I’ve been lax on the gym front this week thanks to 29847489384674830905058 viewings on my flat cutting into gym time but I’m PUMPED now to get back into my routine as I fear missing even only a few sessions has now collapsed my whole weight loss system and I am likely to explode into a huge ball of fat by Sunday.

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Tell me this isn’t so? Tell me this is just a bad week?

I talked myself out of cutting my excess fat off with some gardening shears this morning in the panic my slimming run was all over.

I joke, I joke. As if I own any fuckin gardening shears. I barely own a razor.

Like, what if this is it? What if by rule I was unable to lose any more weight? Would I be happy now? Would I be satisfied?

I weigh up the pros and cons

PRO – I am for the first time since birth a UK size 16 – come hit me up on Instagram to see the evidence you fuckin bbz @lillibee

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CON – My jelly belly still dominates my life

PRO – I feel less like I’m about to keel over and die

CON – My jelly belly still dominates my life

PRO – I think I’m going to live past 43 years old.

CON – My jelly belly still dominates my life

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Okay so you get le’jist?

So, I guess in a nutshell, yes, I could be happy now. I am happy now.

Of course I am highly dramatic and appreciate in reality is has only been a week but I feel it’s good to mentally prepare yourself for all eventualities, right?

2stone 12lbs is all I have left to lose to be GOAL SMASHED HAPPY. It’s so fuckin close bro.

I’m going to ramp up the efforts from now on. I was never sure I could ramp up the efforts considering how little I eat but it’s time to go all out.  PS… loving the word RAMP.

I’ve binned off all breakfast alternatives for strictly Protein Shake goodness, invested in a bulk buy from My Protein with treats such as Protein Pancakes, BCAA and Impact Diet Whey as well as a host of protein packed goody treats from Eat Natural. Which are LUSH BTW.

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Even Flearoy aka Leigh my long suffering beaut of a fiancé (of 1 year this week a thank yor) is all over getting on this ultimate health kick with me.

He blates loving our new sex life too, I reckon that is his motivation behind keeping our belly’s bound. GWARN LAD.

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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

Free Date With Every Gastric Sleeve? Bargain.

3 month check in with my Surgeon. ROMEO DONE!

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She’s like legit the cutest woman I have ever seen in my life and to think that she was capable of pumping my torso out like a fuckin Puffer Fish and slicing my insides up like Sushi just blows my mind every time.

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She called me a ‘Star Pupil’ and not to gloat but I totally would have buzzed HARD if she’d have given me a badge.

Honestly my experience with the NHS has been nothing but amazing so far which I think its fuckin immense considering the cuts and the intense pressure these fuckin KWEEN’S are all under.

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Maybe the customer service mark was slightly overstepped yesterday when my Dietitian (Let’s call him DIET MAN) asked me out for a drink. I DIED.

SIDE NOTE-

To all that know me IRL will have heard me speak glowingly about DIET MAN pre op.

He was such a huge help and really pushed hard for me to get approved in those final stages considering id been lost in the system several times.

He gave me his number, his pager and his email and was more than happy to have me peck his head and chase up ‘The Board’ to see if my case was in motion.

On reflection. That bitch was KEEN as.

Sat waiting patiently after the glorious catch up with the super fuckin ace Surgeon I scrolled away on my iPhone waiting for the next session to start.

 In walks DIET MAN.

 DM – ‘Catherine, you’re looking great’ WINK 

 Me – Smiles awkwardly forever unable to accept any kind of compliment with grace.

 DM – ‘Yeah, really great. You know, now you’re post op maybe it’s time we grabbed a drink or a coffee sometime. If you fancy?’

 At this point I went straight into THIS MUST BE A JOKE SO LET’S TAKE THE PISS MODE.

 Me – ‘Why are you only just asking me now? Was I not slim enough before you FATTIST?’

I’ve never a pasty white face turn purple quite so fast. I didn’t even have time to laugh and reassure him that I was, of course only being LOL x 10000

I mean, of course I’d never go out with him. He’s rancid. And I’m engaged. But still, I was joking all the same.

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He ran out of the room.

I went back to scrolling on my phone wishing to die before being called into my next Fatties session catch up.

I strolled in. DIET MAN was leading the session. JOY.

I plodded over to my favourite chair in the back corner. He didn’t look at me once.

Oh YAS. Still got it.

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