Oooo, You Are Just Within Reach, Goal Baby!

Wahooo! Two more pounds to my first goal. I am thinking of going to a sweat lodge this afternoon, haha. You know I'll be watching what I eat like a super-nutrition-cop! I. WANT. THIS.

I say "first goal" because that's exactly what it is. 140 gets me a "normal BMI." You have no idea how badly I want to be normal in some aspect of my life, hahahaha. But my sights are set a little lower...I *really* want to get to 131.5 so I can say I am half the woman I once was. I am so clever! And you can bet I'll be tossing out that corny joke regularly once I've earned the right to use it. And I *really* want to get into my 120s...I blew past them so quickly on the way up! I'd love to make myself cozy there. I want to be able to say to myself,  "I weigh 120-something." "I'm in my 120s." "I weigh about 120." (haha, you can bet I will round down.)

First things first, though. Let's kill that first goal once and for all. Hasn't my weight loss slowed down to a snail's pace? That's bad eating for you, baby. Who opened the flood gate on sweets? And where in the heck did I even *get* a sweet tooth? Something that has never plagued me before.

Sheila is absolutely right: the more carbs I eat, the more carbs I want. I have been on a carb-free-for-all for awhile now, and it was catching up with me. One day I got on the scale and it said "150.x" and I about lost my marbles. Enough is enough. Granted, I had reached a low of 144, but was consistently seeing the scale at about 146-148. The 150 was at "my time of the month," so it wasn't all bad. But it was enough to scare this little carb monster straight, haha.

Message to myself and other WLS peeps: your bad eating habits don't disappear with WLS. You get a brief reprieve immediately after surgery because you can't and don't want to eat the bad stuff. But then you get complacent, you can eat a little more, etc. And all your demons are waiting right there to party with you. Be vigilant. I would say at about my one year surgiversary, I really started cutting myself too much slack. And you see how that's impacted the scale...these last pounds have been slooooooowwww to come off.

But they're going. And they're going to start leaving at a faster pace now, I command. COMMAND.

You want a dating update? Oy, we'll have to call this one, "In Which Reality Sets In and it is Not Always Fun." We're in a bit of a holding pattern. We jostle issues of child custody and kid-free alone time (IRONICALLY concerning his child, not my three, hahahaha). We hash issues of children not wanting to share their parents (IRONICALLY, again concerning his, not mine). It is a struggle. We'll see.

The lingering issue on my front pertains to loose skin and my resultant attractiveness to said man. I don't know how to write this without making him sound like an asshole. He is not an asshole, he is a really wonderful man. But in this regard...well, let's just say I don't think of him as not an asshole. And I assure you, there are no cutting mean comments, no teasing, no cruelty. Mama don't stand for that.

But how much does mama stand for?

Okay: I *get* that the loose skin is not attractive. I cannot stand it myself. When I am dressed, DAMN, I feel sexy! Well, not always, haha, but I have my moments. Woo baby, there is no one more proud of me than me when I'm really feeling it. Naked? Oy. When I lay on my back, I swear my skin puddles beside me. Ew. So unattractive.

If I can't hardly stand to be with me naked, well, it's not really fair of me to judge someone who is new to the whole thing. I've at least had time to get used to it, and I have the benefit of knowing how far I've come. There's a lot of pride wrapped up in that loose skin, because it's something I've done for myself. It is also something I've done *to* myself, so there can be a lot of regret and wistfulness and sadness wrapped up in it, too.

But those are all the emotions I get to bring about myself, just as part of knowing my new body and knowing my challenges and successes and failures. I don't actually need anyone else adding to my baggage. Greg does not intentionally be hurtful - not at all, not ever - but this skin issue is a tough one. Him for it causing him to not be as attracted to me because of it, me because I don't need someone else rattling my self-confidence or increasing my self-consciousness about it. I've taken to wearing long sleeves all the time to keep my lunch lady arms hidden (this is probably a public service). I have sexy lingerie.

I have not decided where my expectations lie. I have not decided my next course of action. I *totally* get not loving it - I, myself, hate it. And I can't say that if the situation were reversed, I'd be all that excited about it.

I can't even express what he's done or said. Really, there hasn't been much. He flat out asked me the other night how much I've lost. I told him. He is not one of my fan club that jumped in with the "I'm so proud of you!" It was, "that was a lot of weight to carry on a 5'3" person," and "how did you get so heavy?" and "that kind of weight gain could really affect a marriage." Not a cheerleader, in other words. There was also "you should be proud," and a couple other nice things. But more than that, there was confirmation of a vibe I've had...you know I've been uber-reluctant to share details with him about this...seeing the pictures (I showed him my one-year collage) was a detractor in his current attraction to me, if you know what I mean. Exactly as I figured, him seeing the fat version of me negatively impacted his opinion of the current version of me.

Anyway - we are at a crossroads. Buddy, you gotta let this thing go or hit the road. It is what it is. I am planning plastic surgery, but if it's unattainable, we're both out of luck. And honestly, if you don't want to be with pre-plastic surgery me, you won't deserve post-plastic surgery me, the one where I run around naked all the time showing everyone my new boobies. :)

Now, I know all my super-supporters are out there reading this and telling me to DTMFA! (Dump the mf'er already). It's on my mind. But let me tell you: it's a jungle out there. And when you have a man who is in all other regards (well, most other!) a really great match...and you can't bear to see YOURSELF naked in the mirror...it's hard to judge someone for also being troubled by the same picture. I know! I'd be telling me to DTMFA, too! But the reality is - under those wraps, this skin has really been through some damage. It is not realistic to expect someone to blindly love you for the wonderful person you are inside. You get that privilege, maybe, with spouses who are along for the ride. This is an issue that I will face again dating someone else, I assure you. It is a tough subject, because I gotta tell you, Greg is the whole package. He is wonderfully kind and sweet, treats me like a queen, brings so much to the table: he's a damn good match for me. But at what price? I'm thinking.

Kim hates it when I go here. :) I had a long-term lover after my divorce. It was not a relationship of substance. But it was a relationship of great chemistry and friendship. And this man was with me at my heaviest and made me feel like the sexiest woman alive. And he was with me after I lost most of the weight, and he made me feel like the sexiest woman alive. He is the barometer I use when I know the difference in how men make me feel about myself. Greg is a fair ways down the spectrum in terms of how he makes me feel about myself. Same body, very different feelings about being naked.

We'll see. :) In the meantime, let's kick some butt and get these last pounds off. First goal, ready to be slayed!