Donations

Last Saturday, a miserably dreary wet cold morning here in the east, I drove my Element down to the Salvation Army Thrift Store in beautiful downtown Trenton, NJ. In the back, from the floor up to halfway from the roof, were stacked 39 pairs of dress trousers, blue jeans and shorts -- every pair of them sized 44 in the waist.

They represented the size I was before I had my gastric bypass surgery on August 11th. I had lost 60 pounds in the interim. My internist, at my annual physical in late August, had advised me, "Get rid of your fat clothes to avoid the temptation of wearing them again."

The gang at the thrift store were thrilled. Most of the pants were still in dry cleaning bags from last winter. The Army runs a halfway house in Trenton and sometimes the guys who work in the thrift stores pick through the clothes to find decent "work clothes" for guys who are trying to put their lives back together as they recover from alcoholism and drug abuse. I can't think of a better use for my old clothing than to help another sick and suffering addict. The remainders go on sale in the store, with the proceeds helping to fund the halfway house and other good works.

I don't even want to think about how much $$$$ they originally had cost me. It doesn't matter. Whatever it was, it was a small price to pay for the payoff I'm receiving now. Luckily, I still had a decent wardrobe of size 42" waist pants. Only, not so much. On a whim I'd bought two pairs of pants from Land's End last week, sized 40" in the waist. They arrived yesterday and I tried them on last night. They fit me perfectly. I had no choice but to admit that I have now gone from a nearly 46" waist to a rather loose fitting 40" waist in just over 11 weeks.

Nevertheless, I need pants that fit me now. So I went back online last night and ordered another $400.00 worth of pants, with 40" waists, two pairs of cotton twills, 4 pairs of finewale cords and a pair of jeans. I hope they last until Spring.

p.s. In keeping with the spirit of donating, I gave $$$ to the "No on 8" campaign in California today. I've NEVER donated money to any political thingie in my life until now. But when I found out that the Mormons are in cahoots with the Knights of Columbus on the other side of this (pretending they care about hetero marriage), I went ballistic. They know the general election is lost, especially in California, so they're staking their futures on this, instead.

I'm tired of being fag-bashed by self-loathing closet cases posing as caring Christians. May they all rot in hell.

Thinny-Thin

These were taken last Saturday night by a friend of mine.



This is me, fifty-one pounds lighter than I was on August 10th. Notice how light in the loafers I am.



This is me, diabetes free and (mostly) meds free.

This is me, on the verge of living a lot longer than I ever thought I would.

It's been worth it.

Check-In

I saw the Internist last Wednesday for my first post-operative physical. He clocked a 43 pound weight loss so far. The following were flags for concern on my blood work: Calcium maxed out -- quit taking calcium citrate supplement and get another blood test this week. PSA double what it should be, call urologist and do a go-see ASAP. Other than that, A-OK.

The next day, last Thursday, I saw the surgeon. He clocked a 45 pound loss. Pronounced that "another 20 pounds and you will be a success." Hell, I'm a success now! Gave me permission to leave the liquid diet and embark on solids again. Got the necessary cheat-sheets for what to eat and what to avoid... at least in the early stages.

Monday morning the long-missing cardiologist called ME at the office. Net-net, quit taking cholesterol reducing drugs and come and see him in December (which seems to be a very popular month for follow-up visits to doctors these days).

I am now officially cured of everything (well, Type II Diabetes and my cholesterol problem) and am completely off all meds except for a vitamin supplement and 2 Lyrica caps every evening (for the neuropathic pains in my feet.)

Left the office early in order to see Doctor Pee-Pee. He said (after I told him everything I'd been through in the last six weeks) "HELL, you may have picked up a mild urinary tract infection from the Foley catheter in the hospital, which would send your PSA through the roof. Here's scrip for another test. Get it done in late October and then we'll take another look at it."

Okay by me.

Got home early after seeing him. Weighed in. Lost another 2 pounds (47 total now). Closing in on 50.

Pulled over 20 pairs of too-large summer and winter pants out of the closet and began looking for consignment stores in the area where I can at least attempt to recoup some of my investment in them. If none of them pan out, off the pants go to the Salvation Army.

My Internist advised me, as he was looming over my nearly naked body last week, "Take it from somebody who's been there. GET RID OF YOUR FAT CLOTHES. It'll help you to avoid the temptation to 'just slip into a next larger size this week'." I took his advice to heart. BTW, my Internist is a hunk without an ounce of discernible fat on him. Too bad he's married.

Here's a snap I took of myself a week ago (at 5 weeks post surgery) ... when I'd only lost about 40 pounds.

The target remains elusive. I'd like to lose 2 more sizes, which would put me at about 190 pounds. But that was my college weight, when I had a metabolism. Realistically, I'm with the surgeon. 20 more pounds and I'll be a very happy camper.

More will be revealed. I'll try to get another picture of me this coming weekend, if the weather cooperates (4 days of rain are predicted starting Thursday... the remnants of something or other).

40 - Finally

It's official. I've now lost 40 pounds since my surgery on August 11th.

Here's the skinny on all that. My nutritionist (perky Stacy) wants me to get back to my college weight, which was about 4 pounds. I was 24 when I went to college (Viet Nam, the Navy and several other hiccups occurred along the way) and I had a metabolism in those days. Hence, no matter what I poured down my throat (Burger King, Booze, Boy Butter) it didn't stick around. In fact, it didn't stick to anything, not even my ribs. Those were the good old days.

Nowdays, of course, I can LOOK at a piece of pecan pie and gain 5 pounds.

But those days are over. No more "pieces" of anything. From now on, it'll be "bites", if even that.

Still, I think that trying to get back to my college weight (okay, it was 190 pounds) might be a little unreasonable. I was kind of hoping to get back to my weight around age 30... ish. Say, 210 or 220. In which case I only have to lose another 20 or 30 pounds and I'll be done. But to get to 190 I'll have to drop another 50 pounds and that sounds way too much like a year-long project to me.

People ask me if I crave anything. No, I answer, because no matter what I ingest (and it's still mostly liquids) I fill up after two swallows. My new tummy only holds about 4 ounces of anything.

Well, that's not completely true. There is one thing I crave above all else. It's not prime rib or pork chops or baked potatoes or asparagus with hollandaise sauce.

It's popcorn.

Not microwave popcorn, either, but corn popped in a big pot on the stove and then smothered in melted "I Can't Believe JoyZeeBoy Thinks This Crap is Butter."

It's worse when I think about going to the movies and not being able to have a 10 pound bag of popcorn cooked in God-Only-Knows-What, dripping with crankcase leavings and washed down by a Bladder-Buster of my favorite beverage, 64 ounces of Diet Coke which is higher in caffeine to offset the loss of sugar -- wasn't that thoughtful of the Coca-Cola people?

So, you see, I don't really have any cravings.

At least not until I lose another 20 pounds. Or 50, if that Nazi Nutritionist of mine, Stacy, gets her way.