The most supportive person in my life, always, is my son. He has a surprising amount of wisdom for a boy of almost ten - or maybe not surprising, if you know him. He's a wonderful combination of old soul and childish innocence, which makes for a very honest supporter. When I told him I was considering the surgery, his initial reaction was one of concern - he's seen a few episodes of the weight loss television shows I've been watching for ages, and the thought of any possible complications or issues during or after the procedure is understandably terrifying for him. I reassured him as best as I could, and also reminded him that there are risks in everything - even walking down the street could be dangerous if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. As much as he could, he agreed, and he cuddled up saying he supported me going forward. There was a sweet reluctance in his voice as he said it - loving me and trusting me to do what is best, but lingering worry and con
I had my surgery last Monday, and I came home from the hospital on Wednesday evening. The procedure itself went incredibly well - as smooth as could be, with much credit due to how hard I focused on being 100 percent compliant with the pre-surgery rules and restrictions. The surgery itself went well, the recovery has been smooth - all things said and done, it's been a great week. Between the pre-op diet and now the post-surgery liquid phase, I am down a little over 35 pounds overall, which is tremendous and exciting and already feels incredible - it has been quite a while since I've been able to lose more than five or ten pounds, let alone get down to where I currently am. As I headed to the hospital on Sunday, I noticed that my weight is already lower than what is on my driver's license - and this morning I weighed myself because it's the first of the month, and now I weigh about ten pounds less than I did on my wedding day back in 2020. It's still the very botto
I am now just about three weeks post-op, and this last week was surprisingly challenging. I finally was able to have food other than just liquids (puréed foods, but still), and for some reason, that brought my appetite back with a vengeance. I don't think it helped that my husband and son were celebrating Passover, which to them means lots of special holiday meals and especially desserts. It doesn't take much to sit back and recognize hungers that are mental versus actual physical hunger. The appetite I have is mainly based on FOMO - the fear of missing out. Everyone else is, so why not me too? Real, stomach-needing-a-refill and body-needing-more-energy hunger? Almost none even still. But old habits die hard, and I found myself giving in to the urge to nibble on this or that - each time, regretting it soon if not immediately. I am still very much learning about myself and my new routines with this tool, and it's hard not to slip back into the painful cycle of negative sel
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