Things that make me happy...

I've always said that my blog is my diary...that I just choose to open it up for anyone to read and/or comment if they'd like to. That being said, today I'm logging in some NSV's.  No super exciting details about my life right now.  I'm still reading blogs, but I just haven't had the same interest level of writing my day to day life in blog form.  BOOBs turned out to be different than I expected (not bad, just different), and I've had a tough time wrapping my mind around things since.  Pardon my randomness, but here goes....

# 1

Saw a former co worker while I was out on a date last night.  Haven't seen her in 5 years. I walked up, said, "You know me, but I look different. Who am I?" She knew immediately, her eyes followed my face down to my body, and said said, "wow, you look amazing!" It felt good.  I wish I could have bottled up the look on her face and saved it for a, "a feel fat, bloated and unsuccessful" day.  LOL

Early this morning I got a friend request from FB and the following message:
"It was really great seeing you tonight! You again look AMAZING!!!! You also seem so happy. I hope we can catch up again soon. Maybe we can meet for lunch?"

She knew the fat, unhappy Amy. 

The "I don't care anymore," Amy. 

The "I've given up on myself," Amy.

The "I'm unhappy with my life and you should be too," Amy.

#2

Size 16 Jeans  

#3

Dave and Buster's Staircase!
A few years ago, I remember seeing the huge staircase at D & B's.  I remember my thought when I saw it (It is HUGE, no breaks in the middle, and super steep).  Last weekend I saw the staircase again.  I remembered the first time I had seen it.  I went up all of the stairs without a negative thought.  I wasn't out of breath.  At the top, I realized the NSV, and my eyes filled with tears (I've been super sappy lately).  That. Felt. Awesome.

#4  

Exercise.  My walking adventures leave me feeling pretty dang good.  I can't say that I burn a lot of calories, but my joints are happy (mom has osteo-arthritis with numerous joint replacements, her first in her 20's, and I'm not going down that same path).  I get out. I see things. I feel good.  

My First 5k :)

Although I hadn't planned on running any of the 5k, I did jog for about the first 2 minutes, just to keep up with the herd of people at the beginning.  Then I had an idea to pick up a glow stick that someone had dropped (while I was still jogging), and splat.  I bit the dust.  I ended up with a scraped up knee (not bad) and elbow (all scabbed up now).  I had my iphone and my keys in my bra and when I hit the ground, they went flying out.  Yipes.  Anywho, that was the end of jogging.  I walked the rest of the way.  I had a great time with some other AZ bandsters.  Here are a few highlights...

Nice clean, white shirt to start . . . 

 

NSV! Plane!

This was my napkin on the plane!  

This was me!  YES!  I still remember the time the flight attendant asked me if I needed a seat belt extender.  It was one of those feelings that I'll never forget.  When I'm old and grey, someone might have to help me buckle it, but I'll be damned if I'm ever too big to wear one again.

News anchor fights back against bully!

"Jennifer Livingston, a morning anchor at WKBT in La Crosse, says she tried to laugh off a viewer's letter, which read in part, "Surely you don't consider yourself a suitable example for this community's young people, girls in particular. Obesity is one of the worst choices a person can make and one of the most dangerous habits to maintain."

Take 4 minutes out of your day to watch this (the rant at 1:49 is my favorite part) ... how many of us have memories of being mocked because of our weight?  Here's a newscaster's in-your-face response to a bully...

Video/Story Link

Today's Lap Band Lesson (a little humor)

Today's lesson:  chew grapes well.  Very well...or you'll see them again.  I'm a fruit-a-holic (very anti-veggie).  I love my grapes.  Apparently grapes weren't in the cards for today.  Nothing painful, just 15 minutes of foam and silent cursing.  This was my prize.  ;)  I've been super stressed out lately, and sometimes foods that I eat all the time just don't work when I'm tense.  And yes, I took a picture of it.  Why?  Because I can.  Nah nah!

I should look like her.

If you're looking for a super cheery, "my lap band is the greatest" blog post, be warned.  This isn't it.

It isn't a secret that I completely underestimated how emotional this whole weight loss thing would be.  I blogged about 8 months ago about going to counseling when I was horrified with my hanging skin.  One day I looked at myself and got completely sad about how I looked. 

Fast forward.  I still have issues with the skin (arm flab, jelly belly, huge thighs).  It is always in the back of my mind.  Clothes don't fit properly (specifically pants because of the muffin top 'o flab).  If pants fit in the waist, my ass is all baggy and they're too long.  Bitch bitch bitch.  When will I be happy with myself?  When will I accept myself?

Every once and a while, something triggers really bad feelings about myself.  The most recent time was Friday.  I overheard two women discussing their weights at work.  Lady #1 says to Lady #2, "Yeah, I weigh 193 now."  My eyes bugged out.  Tears filled my eyes and I felt my heart go up in my throat.  The lady looks good.  Her clothes are nice, she's generally an attractive lady.  I thought to myself, "I weigh 198.  That's 5 pounds more than she weighs.  I SHOULD LOOK LIKE HER!!  And then it happened.  Downward spiral.

I was angry.  Not just an ordinary angry, but a nasty angry.  I should look like her.  That phrase echoed in my mind all day yesterday and still is today.  I was mad mad mad. I should look like her.  She's eating fast food for lunch and I'm eating bird food one tiny bite at a time and fighting head hunger every day.  I should look like her.  I instantly hated her.  We're close in age, height and weigh nearly the same, yet I still look so much fatter.  I should look like her.  It doesn't seem fair that she can look so good at 193 and I'm stuffing my belly into spanx so I can wear a pair of pants.  I should look like her.  But I don't.  It doesn't seem fair.  I should look like her.  I guess I was expecting her to say her weight was like 160 or something.  But 193?  That's......almost my weight.

Now, I know what you're thinking.  "Oh Amy, you've come so far."  Blah blah blah.  Bullshit.  I'm the one that sees my naked self in the mirror every day.  I know what I look like underneath spanx.  How do I let myself get sidetracked from my own goals when I compare myself to others?  I teach kids that they're unique and there's nobody else like them.  Yet in my personal life, I fail at that.  Why do I do this to myself?  Why am I my own worst critic?

I wrote this blog for myself.  I posted it to share.  Why?  Because I wouldn't be a honest blogger if I didn't.  It isn't all pretty little roses and lap band adjustments and losses.  Please don't judge or feel sorry for me.  I'm sure there aren't many people that will read this because of the length, lack of normal Amy humor, etc. There are ups and there are downs.  There are also basement days.  Days that are lower than low.  Right now I'm in the basement.  And slowly, like every time I've been hard on myself and knocked myself down, I'll climb back up the stairs.  Stop doing this to yourself, Amy.

This week's mantra:  I will celebrate my own victories. I will not compare myself to others.

Spit Happens.

Life in the The Land of Amy has been pretty rocky lately.  Last weekend I chalked it up to PMS.  I was all teary and moody.  This past weekend I couldn't think of another excuse.  I cried at the drop of a hat, listened to quite possible the saddest breakup song ever written), "What Might Have Been," and mourned Mr. X.  Again.  Seriously, Amy?  It has been two months.  You've already mourned the breakup.  You know why you ended it - remember the negatives?  Heellloooo?  Welcome to depression.  Population:  1 (or it seems like it, anyway).  This is the land of, "when a little thing goes wrong, it feels like the whole world is caving in."

Last week, a student spit in my eyes and I had to go to urgent care.  After all of the child psych places I've worked, been a special ed teacher for 4 years...etc....never once have I had to report any "injury."  I'm currently a teacher's aide, enjoying freedom from lesson plans and hours of prep work each night.  Imagine my surprise when I felt the spit land in my eyes.  It was disgusting.  He also spit in my co worker's face, but she said it did not go in her eyes.  Special Education isn't always a bowl of Edy's.

What was even more disgusting was the way it was handled by the teacher and administrator.  After getting my eyes flushed for 15 minutes by Nurse Ratched, I drove to urgent care.  I had to get blood drawn, and will have to go back in 6 weeks, 12 weeks, 6 months and one year.  Why?  For HIV tests.  In the eyes of medicine, saliva in the eyes is just as dangerous as a needle stick.  The chance is very slim, but still a risk.  Worker's comp.  Ugh.  I've never had to do anything like this before.  

The next day, the little bugger was spitting again.  He spit on my coworker (he will not spit on me again, I'm wearing my eyeglasses and steering clear).  I told the teacher, who told the administrator, who called the parent to pick the kid up.  I was happy.  A spitting kid should not be at school.  The parent showed up, pitched a fit and said that the teacher should know how to handle it.  The administrator allowed her kid to stay in the classroom and mom went home.  HOME.  I was pissed.  

Other than documenting the behavior, nothing else is being done to ensure the safety of the staff and other students from the little bugger. 

That's just one thing that's going on....but I promise that I'm reading everyone's blogs (pinky promise), I'm just not really able to write a happy funny cheery blog right now.  I will say one positive thing - I tried on my inspiration dress for BOOBs today (with, um, a lot of support help underneath!) and it fits!  Always end on a positive note, right?