Phat to Fabulous!
04 October 2011
I've moved...for some better functionality and ease of use, I have moved my blog over to wordpress...follow my journey there...
Hope to see you on the other side.
posted by Elle Jefe at 10/04/2011 07:33:00 PM
26 September 2011
So yesterday, I was gently reminded/scolded by a friend for not having given an update on here in some time. So here it is, I had my 6th of 6 doctors appointments last week and it is official. My surgery is set for November 14th. That doesn't mean I am completely in the clear though, I still have to await the insurance approval, which we know how insurance companies are.
All of this has erupted into a number of emotions I am not sure I have the ability to classify properly. I am excited and so ready for a change, but still very much freaked out at the prospect of this all. (No worries, not freaked out enough to change my mind, but freaked out nonetheless.) I told someone the other day, I am not scared of the anesthesia, or getting cut open (had 2 c-sections, been there, done that), I am the most freaked out about extra skin. It sounds vain, but dammit I would prefer to only have one stomach, arms with no wings and knee caps that don't appear to be able to hold a conversation without my help when all of this is done. That means one thing, I need to get back in the gym full force now, no more half assed walks, etc. If I can do that, then hopefully this whole process will be that much better.
I have 49 days, I should probably get on that, eh?
posted by Elle Jefe at 9/26/2011 09:25:00 AM
16 July 2011
So this really does feel like the longest process ever. For insurance reasons, once I made the decision to have weight loss surgery, I am required to see my doctor for 6 mos before they can submit information to the insurance company for approval. So I have had a thyroid test, psychiatric consult (apparently I am just enough crazy that I don't cross some magical line), a gastroendoscopy and now it is just a matter of finishing out my 6 appts with the doctor and the dietician on a monthly basis. Went yesterday and I am down another 4-5 lbs, despite my recent trip out East and the oh so lovely overflowing crab cakes. While I am totally IN with my decision to do this, part of me wants to say just book an operating room and get this over with. My recent trip was filled with more photo ops of pics I will not want to see like pretty much EVER, unless they are cut off and only show me from the boobs up. Grrrr! November can't come fast enough.
posted by Elle Jefe at 7/16/2011 09:18:00 PM
29 June 2011
Two-hundred and sixty-two
Two-hundred and sixty-two...
Two-hundred and sixty-two...
Two-hundred and sixty-two is the number that finally put me over the edge...the number that finally made me decide that this isn't a game...the number that made me realize that the only person buying my bullshit facade is me.
To get to that number you have to take a heavy dose of denial, a pinch of tears, a handful of courage, a little bit of coward, and a whole lot of stress.
In that number, is a girl who has always had issues with body image, even when she was a size 8, thinking she was fat, since all of her friends were a size 2.
In that number, is a girl who focuses on the things she can make "pretty" her face, her hair, the materialistic things that can distract from the obvious that makes her so unhappy.
In that number, is the stress of an over-achieving corporate sharecropper that never feels her best is good enough to be acknowledged, because it is always the wrong time, she has the wrong private parts or she is a little too tanned to be deemed acceptable.
In that number, is a child that misses the familiar laughter of a mother who might not remember her tomorrow.
In that number, is the wife that always tries to give a face of a solid family and household knowing that if her fat ass decided to try to walk on that string it would give and the whole pretty picture would come tumbling down in a heart beat.
In that number, is a mom who never feels that she lives up to her kids needs or wants, but proudly wears her mom of the century badge on her sleeve.
In that number, is a wife who understands her husband's need for affection, but has no clue how to let him love what she can't - herself.
In that number, is a woman who is done.
Done trying one last time, done looking for the new quick fix, done with not handling the things, done with high blood pressure, done with back pain, done with aches, just DONE.
Two-hundred and sixty-two, was the weight I was the day I made the decision to once in for all do something to save my own life and stop waiting for someone else to do it for me. This blog is being revisited, recreated, revived to help me adjust to taking that path for what I hope is the last time. Hopefully, this will be a good way for me to get some of my issues (no way in hell I handle all of them) out and in the open as I venture down this journey, as I have made the decision to have gastric bypass surgery. I am not writing this blog for someone to try to change my mind and give me your opinion on what I should or shouldn't do, this is not your cross to bear, this is mine, hopefully you can respect that and offer the love and support that I will most definitely need on this journey.
Labels: bypass, daughter, gastric, mom, mother, stress, weight, wife
posted by Elle Jefe at 6/29/2011 08:52:00 PM
05 June 2007
...but she's back in a new life form.
New Blog is up, I just couldn't stay away!The Idle Mind of the Mojito Mami
Stop on over, have a drink with me.
posted by Elle Jefe at 6/05/2007 09:25:00 PM
20 December 2006
Christmas eating tips
A co-worker passed on these eating tips for the holidays, I figured I would share them...
1. Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're serving rum balls.
2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. Like fine single-malt scotch, it's rare. In fact, it's even rarer than single-malt scotch. You can't find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnogaholic or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It's later than you think. It's Christmas!
3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.
4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.
5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it.
6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.
7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never going to see them again.
8. Same for pies. Apple. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?
9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.
10. One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner.
Remember this motto to live by:
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"
Until next time....Holla at ya girl!
posted by Elle Jefe at 12/20/2006 10:33:00 AM
17 December 2006
Five things about ~L~. This is the longest that it has taken me to do any tag. Surveys are always easy. Trying to think of things that I haven't already shared on here are not. So here it goes. I don't think it will be nearly as interesting as the post that V'ron
did, but here it goes anyway...
1. I have a st
range unnamed phobia. I cannot and will not take any food or beverage type of item into a bathroom. I don't really have a problem with toothbrushes and a gargle cup being in the bathroom, but that's about it. If I am at the mall and I have a cup of something from the food court, I have been known to throw it away if there is no one with me to hold it while I am in there. Not that you will find me in a public restroom too often, since I am pretty sure I have a phobia of those as well.
It's weird I know. My youngest little germ bucket will walk into the bathroom with a cup or an apple and I just about flip out. Its bad, I am dealing with it.
2. I live in Packer-land and shhhh...this one's a secret. I HATE THE PACKERS! Maybe I have shared this before, if so oh well. I love football and many other sports, but I hate the Packers. Maybe my hatred of them stems from my love for the Cowboys, Redskins and Ravens. Not sure, not that there is any real rivalry there. Its not like I am a Vikings or Bears fan or something. I honestly hate the fact that in this state if Brett Favre farts they burst into the news with a breaking news bulletin as though it was something important like our president discovering that there really is a Santa Claus. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind certain players for the Packers...Donald Driver, Ahman Green, even Brett himself, just hate the brainwashed mentality of cheeseheads, including my husband and most of his friends.
3. When I was 10, Danny Glover stepped on my foot. It's a pretty strange story in and of itself and the events that lead up to it are even more interesting and random. So it was Thursday afternoon, I was in the 5th grade. I was playing football at recess (with the boys of course) went out for a pass and the football went straight into my pinky as I went up for the catch. I tried to play it off as any tom boy would. After lunch I decided that I really should go to the nurses office, cause that ish hurt. Turned out I had sprained my pinky. While sitting in the nurses office, apparently my body decided I hadn't had enough for the day and decided that at that very moment, I should become a woman! WTF? To top it off, I was supposed to be leaving on a bus that day to go to Howard's homecoming with my cousin's parents to go see her play at the HU homecoming (she was in the band) and see my grandmother that lived in VA. So I headed to DC on the bus with all the HU parents with my finger in a wonderful new splint and a bag of newly purchased feminine products. My mom who about
had a heart attack when she found out what had happened that day at school, had to call my grandmother who still acted like I was 6 to warn her that her little girl was no longer, on the bus to come to DC that weekend was a woman. What does this have to do with my foot and Danny Glover...I'm getting there hold your horses. So I get to DC, spend time with my grandmother and cousin and Saturday afternoon was the HU Bisons' homecoming game against FAMU if I recall correctly. So a little before half time I decide that I need some refreshments. My other cousin and I decide to head to the concession stand and as we come around the corner under the stands this rather large black man steps on my foot. I turn around rather annoyed because he didn't just step on my toe, but my whole daggone foot. As I turn around, I know that man, yep it was Danny Glover. I think his daughter was going to Howard at the time. I don't really recall, all I know is that I was annoyed with the fact that not only was my pinky hurting but that rather large man stepped on my daggone foot and made it hurt too.
4. As much as I talk of my disgust for the color pink, at some point I apparen
tly liked the color. I am not sure what I was thinking, I think out of the trauma of it all I have stripped my memory of any recollection of that period. However when my mom was engaged to be married to my stepfather, they both sold their respective homes to buy one together. When we moved I got to pick the color scheme for my room. For some God unknown reason, I picked a pink paint and rose colored bed set for my room. I am not sure what caused the complete and total lack of judgement on my part. It was in my pre-teen days that this occurred, so any corrupt activity that I may have participated in would not have yet had an effect on me to lead to this. I am happy to report that as I have not lived in my parent's house for about 10 years, that my little brother has since taken claim to my old bedroom and has rightfully had it repainted blue. Smart kid that baby brother of mine!
5. I know how to Flamenco. Strange, I know you were all expecting me to admit something like I am secretly a Russian spy named Oksana Chukovskaya. However, my love for dancing and music really has no boundaries. When I was a senior in high school, we used to have this thing called Multi-Cultural day. As part of the Accelerated Spanish class, I took part in a performance of Flamenco dance which we had practiced all semester. To please the crowd, who we were sure would fall asleep at some part in the 3m 49s song, we decided that the finale to our performance would be the ever popular Macarena. Don't ask. Its something I am still trying to live down. Fortunately, I don't think that there remains any documentation of this unless one of my old classmates ever finds the picture she has of the two of us performing. God I hope she never finds that picture.
Alright, I think that is it. That was fun, I thought of some things that I had thought about in a while trying to come up with that one. If you decide to do this one, let me know so I can make sure to hit you up. I won't tag anyone, right now.
Until next time, holla at ya girl.
posted by Elle Jefe at 12/17/2006 08:44:00 PM