Like chicken

Realization last night…
The bio-debris that comes out of my drain looks like stuff that most people try to trim off raw chicken…  Bloody sinew and maybe fat chunks?



Never the same…

Fuck. I hate it when I have to keep my shit together!!!

I’m on the recliner in the one position that doesn’t make me feel continually eviscerated… And minding how tight my muscles are….

Something you should know… There’s a delicate balance that must be maintained at all times… Like a Faberge egg held suspended between two stretched wires… Pull one too tight, and the egg tips, topples to a million pieces on the floor… Likewise, the other wire will transfer energy that upsets the balance in the opposite direction… Then…. There is a surgical binder that snags the hips and chokes the organs… But it’s job is to steady the wires. Steady. Don’t move too quickly.

I’m so cold… I’m holding steady… Gingerly leaning ever so slightly…. grasping the edge of my blanket lying just inches away on the floor…  I use my index and middle fingers like chopsticks…

Closing the gap between them until in them I feel the edge of the fabric…I lift the lightweight blanket up and over my legs… Useless legs propped on pillows to give me a “C” shape,  relaxing those abdominal muscles…. Holding steady…. Until something comes along…

Like a goddammed mutherfucking spider.
On my mutherfucking blanket!!

I’m home alone.
I can’t upset the wires.
I can’t tip the egg.
I reach over for a paper towel I’ve been using as a coaster…
And squish that little mutherfucker.
I squish with all my might and….
a little harder still with all my deep resentment.

All I wanted to do was lose my shit.  I’m angry. I want to cry. But….
Now I’m feeling like a badass.
I killed that mutherfucker cold.
I shouldn’t have had to.
I shouldn’t have had to.
But I did have to.
I was the only one who could.
A softer part of myself dies with that spider.

I did what I had to.


Surgery done!

Yesterday, the surgery was complete!  Now I recover. I can already tell the results will be amazing. There are parts of my body I haven’t seen in years.

The surgeon removed a SIX POUND skin flap from my abdomen. ( It looked like a stingray in the photo he sent)  additionally, he removed 5 lbs during liposuction.  What a way to lose 11 lbs.  Diet and exercise is much much cheaper, way way easier, and way way less painful.

But you can’t exercise or diet skin off your body.

The surgical binder covers much of my belly, but what I can see is beautifully flat. It’s swollen to be sure, bruised and bloody, stitched up and taped up. But it’s already gorgeous to me!!


It’s getting down to the wire

This time to, I’ll be in surgery. Not getting naked, marked and prepped… But actually *in* surgery!

I have a lot to do to finish getting ready. I go back and forth between being happy and excited… To being nervous and anxious.

Gotta clean, shop, make food and stay calm.

Happy Memorial Day.  Let’s never forget those who paid the ultimate sacrifice.


None of those things happened

Sometimes I just don’t get anything crossed off my to-do list.  I busied myself with cleaning and organizing, and preparing to be out of commission for awhile, but anything paperwork related, I bailed on completely.

Since there is a holiday weekend, today will be my last business day to take care of these things.  /sigh /

I’m getting nervous and excited. Three days and a wakeup…  It’ll be here (and done) before I know it.  Largely and in
general people have been supportive. (most notably about quitting smoking! Lol)  but many people are deeply concerned about two things… The risks of complications and the pain of recovery. 
Oh… There was a 22-second period where I didn’t think of that? Thanks for reminding me. 😛
It’s all good, though. I’m sure everything will be fine. And I’ll have narcotics.


Four days and a wakeup

It’s surprisingly Thursday… Out of nowhere! As I calculate how little time remains until surgery, the realization sets in that I simply won’t be able to get it all done. Now I triage.

I need to file some court documents (thanks ex husband, I know you couldn’t wait to be done paying child support… It’s cool… Just pay me the rest you have owed on braces… For 18 months).  Since I will be two days post-op, I won’t be able to attend the hearing.  So I have to get my stuff filed asap.

Why haven’t I paid for the license sticker renewal for the van? Is been impaled by a push pin in the family command center board for at least five weeks… Hanging there… Not getting paid. I think I’m resistant to giving the State of Illinois ANY more money. Oh wait… They sign my paychecks. Ugh.
Whatever. That gets done today.

Online class. That needs major work. I’ve got to get all my ducks in row, because something tells me two and half weeks after surgery, I won’t be nearly motivated as I am right now.

I detest paperwork.



My emotions are all over the place. I feel like crying.  I want a carton of cigarettes.  Fuck cigs.  I hate them. I never want to see another cigarette. I miss them. But I don’t.  I’m nervous.  I’m so excited for surgery. I’m devastated how much weight I’ve gained so quickly. I’m determined to get back with the Furhman style eating tomorrow. I’m terrified, angry, fussy, sad, lonely, and irritated. I’m sleepy, anxious and having trouble getting out of my own headspace.  I want to laugh. I want to have sex. I want to cry. A lot.  I feel like if I could just release all the stress (and not by putting another bite of food in my damned mouth!!! Grrr)… I’d feel better.
I simply want to feel better.

8 days until surgery.