I took my three month post-op weight today. I'm only weighing in monthly because it would be so easy for me to become obsessed and judge any day's merit based on a fluctuating number on the scale.
So far, so good. I've lost 50 pounds since surgery (plus 30 prior). My Achilles tendonosis pain is almost non-existent, I'm moving so much better, and I've undergrown most of my clothes. Of course buying new clothes, in this economy, is a special project. Obviously I don't want to buy much, since I intend (should I say hope?) to lose 40 more pounds.
I know there are people, especially women out there, who would be so thrilled with these results. In fact I am thrilled, but with the niggling thought that keeping the weight off will be hard work, both mental and physical. They call the first six months to a year The Honeymoon Period. Meanwhile, my arms still look like Aunt Bea's. My skin is foreshadowing the loose, flabbiness that leads big losers to cosmetic surgery. Once it's time, I'm in, me, a woman of 60 who never felt the impulse to change my looks. In for a penny, in for a pound (no pun intended). I have become someone who alters their physique surgically, cognitive dissonance in action.
I'm visited by my mother and late sister whenever I look in a mirror. My Scandinavian cheekbones have come out of hiding and my eyes are, once again, deep set. I look much closer to my age with the top layer of cushy facial fat gone. I'm undergoing a complete metamorphosis. Keep good thoughts that the mental me morphs with the physical, please. I've heard this Pluto in Aquarius is going to be good for both my Aquarius Sun and my Leo rising signs. I choose to believe that is a fact!
Much love my Tumblrs,
Dagney
