Tubeless Tory

I am tubeless.

Yes I am.

I am tubeless.

I am Sam.

Okay, that made no sense, but I'm happy so I feel like rhyming. My tube is out and I am now tubeless Tory. I have no more tubes. It was kind of icky coming out, and it hurt, but it's out and it's sealed. My belly looks like someone played tic tac toe with a pen knife, but at least it is now completely natural. No more artificial flavorings1

My medical crap is all put away. A table in my bedroom was covered with gauze, tape, saline, lotions, cremes, and all sorts of other various and sundry medical items. I felt like every time I looked at it I was reliving some of the horror of last month.

Okay, I know horror is an overly dramatic word. Well guess what, I am an overly dramatic gal!

But it was horrible. I mean I really tried to keep my spirits up. I'm generally an exceptionally "up" person. I always know that no matter what, the sun will rise tomorrow. One of my former cow-orkers used to call me "Pollyanna." Well I wouldn't go that far. I never heard Pollyanna tell someone to "Bite me." But I do tend to look on the bright side of life.

But last month, man oh man did I have a hard time doing so. It just felt like every time I turned around something new was going wrong. I had a few "Why me?" moments. (I know the answer to that is, "Why not you?" but I hated it.) I hated feeling that way almost as much as I hated being sick!

I also hated the feeling of lack of control. Those who know me well know I am a control freak. (Okay, freak seems a little harsh. Let's just say I like to be aware of what's going on.) I think the thing that freaked me out the most was the bleeding. I'd wake up in a pool of blood! That is NOT fun!

But it's over and I learned a few really valuable things:

• I am so thankful for my health. Many people live every day with chronic illnesses. I am fortunate that this whole thing will be completely gone within a few months. What a blessing.
• After a month like April, there is nothing more soothing and wonderful that a "normal boring day."
• We should NEVER take our bodies for granted! Keep them healthy! Put good things into them! (Don't worry, chocolate is a good thing.) Keep them moving! They will repay you in the long run.
• Nurses are amazing people. They should be paid better and respected more.
• Nurses assistants are also amazing people. They should REALLY be paid more! They're the ones who have to do all the icky things like empty bedpans and clean messes.
• Doctors are wonderful too and bless them for their intelligence and talent, but they aren't as close to the patients as nurses.
• Serious health issues can show you what your spouse is made of. I am happy to report that mine is made of all things that are wonderful. He was and is my rock.
• God listens to prayers.
• I am loved by many many people. I have never felt such wonderful support.
• My students are wonderful. They've kept things going while I was gone and NEVER have I heard a single one of the boys and girls I've asked to go above and beyond complain. Not once. I wish I could say the same about one of my cow-orkers. Oh well, some people just don't get it and others do.

So while I'm glad that this chapter in my life is slowly moving behind me, it was a valuable chapter and one I'll never forget.

Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged

Life is full of judgemental people. Heck, we all judge each other in some way or another, don't we?

I was watching Dr. Phil last night and there was a lady on there who just had no use for fat people. She didn't understand them, didn't like them, didn't want them around. She felt they were lazy, selfish, and self destructive.

In order to understand what it's like to be fat, Dr. Phil put her into a fat suit for a day. She experienced one day as a 300 pound woman. She felt what it was like to be stared at, mocked, to try to fit into a small theater seat, and to try to exercise or enjoy day to day activities as a fat person.

One would hope an experience like that would have made her say "I have seen the error of my ways. I will no longer be judgemental."

That wasn't the case. Instead she understood, she said, what it was like to BE a fat woman, but still couldn't understand how one BECOMES a fat woman. Why would you be so selfish and self destructive?

I suspect that even if she spent a year in a fat suit, she just wouldn't "get it."

It's amazing, though, people judge all the time. I was the first one in line for the "Down with fat bigotry, up with fat acceptance" when I was fat. In fact, I still feel that way. To place a value, or devalue someone based on their weight is simply ridiculous and ignorant. My IQ didn't increase as my weight decreased!

Yet even though most fat people want acceptance for them the way they are (rightfully so), many of them are extremely bigoted against thin people.

I am finding it curious that I experienced discrimination as a fat woman and I am now experiencing the same thing from other fat people. I see other people write about that as well...from women who walk into their WW meetings and are met with someone else saying "Well what are YOU doing here" to people who publish ranting posts on bulletin boards about those "Skinny bitches who only have 20 pounds to lose." As if how DARE they consider trying to watch their weight at 20 pounds over...why they should wait until they're AT LEAST 50 pounds over!

I've had my own experiences with it. I think I shared about the woman at our local Curves who angrily demanded to know what I was doing there. She felt that since I am "skinny" I didn't have the right to work out. What an ignorant attitude to have! Even thin people need to exercise to maintain health! Apparently she was a little embarassed when someone pointed out my before and after pictures.

I've also had people comment on my body parts like it's fine because I'm thin. I get "look at your little chicken legs" or "look at how spindley your arms are!" Well thank you! As if I'm not self conscious enough right now about my string bean body after losing all that weight in the hospital! I mean these same people would never walk up to me when I was overweight and say "Damn girl, look at those ham hocks you call thighs! Throw 'em on the barbie and we can eat for WEEKS!"

A few people who don't know me have decided that it must be easy for me. Even some who do have accused me of somehow having an easier time losing weight than they do. What easy? There was nothing EASY about my weight loss. It took dedication, hard work, and a lot of self denial!

I swear, I almost want to wear a badge that says "I lost over 100 pounds so quit picking on me!"

Ha ha ha...I know. It sounds silly. I'm sure some people will be thinking "I should HAVE such a problem!" But you know what? Passing judgement and being judged isn't cool whether you're 120 pounds or 220 pounds. No one likes to be tried and hung without being able to give their side of the story!

The fact is:

• I am now thin.
• I was once very fat.
• I worked very hard to lose my weight.
• I work very hard to maintain my weight.
• Yes, as of right now I have a little weight to gain but since my exercise is so limited, I still have to watch my points. In fact I count and stay within 25-30 every day to control my gain.
• I am not a skinny bitch.
• I may be a bitch at times. It has nothing to do with my scale.
• I promise not to pass judgement on you if you promise not to pass judgement on me.

Okay...that's all I have to say about that, as Forest Gump would say. All ya'all have an awesome weekend!

Hi everyone! I hope you're having a good weekend.

Intense Shopping Therapy

This is just going to be passive, meaningless blather. You are not obligated to read further.

You have been warned.

So this was a good weekend! My sister, Tammy, showed up on Friday. She flew in all the way from California (ooooh....ahhhh). She wanted to hang out with me when I was well enough to perform her patented Intense Shopping Therapy(tm).

The first therapy session was to begin early Saturday morning. In order to mentally and physically prepare for the sheer magnitude of the therapeutic session we had to make way to the Y M C A first. We worked out for half an hour where I am proud to say I upped my personal (recent) ante and was able to do 30 minutes at 3 mph with an incline of 4 on the treadmill. I also lifted a few 5 pound weights. Don't tell Dr. Hart. Shhhh.

After sufficiently wiping me out Tammy loaded me into her therapy vehicle and whisked me off to our first stop.

Nordstrom Rack

Now I know what you're thinking. Nordstrom Rack as a FIRST stop on a therapeutic journey? I was a little frightened myself. Fortunately Tammy calmed my soul by getting lost...err driving around and talking me through what we were about to do in a calm soothing voice. After about 20 minutes of trying to fin...err, being soothed I was ready to make my move.

We entered the store and I felt a little lost. What do I do? Do I start in shoes? Do I go to the lingerie department? Pants? Shirts? AUGH!

After being talked down from the top of rack of water bras, I made my way over to the shoes. For some reason none of these shoes had a mate. It was like some sort of singles club for the pathetic wallflower shoes. I couldn't handle it for more than a few minutes, although I did chat it up with a sexy looking boot. Still, it just wasn't my type so I had to bid it farewell and good luck.

Off to the women's department. I started looking in the size 18s and 22s before I realized, "What am I doing here? I don't wear these sizes any more!" A few women shot me nasty looks and one tripped me...I'm sure it was an accident, as I made my way back to the appropriate department.

After looking for quite awhile I had nothing. I felt like one of those poor souls wandering around the big city in "What Not to Wear" (except no one had given me $5000 to update my wardrobe. I checked my pockets a few times and nope. Nada). It was overwhelming. I started to panic. I broke out in a cold sweat...then came the hives..pretty soon the voices in my head started to tell me to charge the Tommy H collection with a box knife.

Fortunately Tammy, once again, came to my rescue. She quickly grabbed five pairs of capris off the rack, shoved me into a dressing room and ordered me to try them on, or else.

She kind of scared me.

I turned my back to the mirror and gingerly disrobed. I hate changing in dressing rooms. This one was particularly frustrating. It had a curtain, not a door. A freaking CURTAIN. Every time someone walked by my personal dressing room turned into a burlesque peep show with me as the star. Hello! People! Doors!

I changed into the first pair of size 3 pants. Size 3. Don't 3 year olds wear a size 3? Whoa! They buttoned!

Slowly I turned around, expecting the worst.

Wowsa! Who was that chick in the mirror? Couldn't be me because I look pastey and blotchy and flabby in dressing rooms. It was probably a trick mirror.

Tried on three more pairs. Decided against the 5s, they were too big. (Yeah. I know. Wow.) The size ones (what WAS Tammy thinking?) fit if you like the camel toe look. Personally I don't so I decided against those.

I made it out of there $35 and 3 pairs of capris later. I left the store of my own accord, walking on my own two feet.

The next step in therapy was Old Navy.

I love Old Navy because in Old Navy I can buy all sorts of overpriced, trendy clothing and pretend I'm in a trendy commercial with trendy people dancing trendily to trendy music. Old Navy netted me some trendy drawstring bottom capris, one of their trendy $5 tank tops, a trendy Hawaiian top (because Hawaii is trendy...just ask Old Navy), and two pairs of trendy flip flops.

The next step of therapy was to move into the shoe realm.

Let me just say, I am a shoe whore.

Now I know I have claimed to be a reality show whore in this blog and I am not resigning from that roll. I am a reality whore AND a shoe whore. Ask Roy. He'll tell you.

I resolved not to buy any shoes this session, however. I don't need shoes. (Shhh, flip flops don't count because they aren't fully covering the foot. They are more like soles or dog toys. My dog loves to carry my flip flops around and shake them as if they are a dangerous animal that needs severe disciplining.) I have probably 30 pairs of shoe. (What did I say? Shoe whore. I rest my case.) I also have a very small closet.

Damn that Tammy! Damn her all to hell! First she forced a pair of pink and blue Nikes that PERFECTLY matched my trendy drawstring bottom capries from trendy Old Navy into my arms. Then she beat me with a pair of leather sandals that could be mistaken for flip flop's more sophisticated cousin. I tried to resist. I did, but she was in charge and she was not taking no for an answer!

I also made my way into KayBee toys and bought two toys for me...err Roy. I got him an Obi Wan doll and a Jenga Fett doll. I wonder if he'd mind if I slept with Jenga Fett.

I'm happy to say that I came through the intense shopping therapy in one piece. Yes, I was sore last night. In fact, I was very sore and every time I rolled over I woke up and moaned in pain just loud enough to wake Roy and elicit murmered sympathy. But I was alive and I believe, better for the experience.