Deep cleansing breaths....

Ahhhhhhhhhhh. It's been an exhausting couple of weeks. I've worked every hour my employer would approve; I've also had a lot of other things to take care of outside of work. The nature of Mr. Salted's job is such that he is a missing person during the holidays, so I pick up the slack out of necessity. It's always a relief to have it just be over.

Food has been a challenge this last month or so, as one would expect. It is everywhere, in large quantities, and damn near impossible to avoid. At work, whatever chocolate-coated pile of toxicity is to be had resides right next to the fax machine, which I use frequently. I tried to stick to sugar-free things whenever possible, but I did have a cookie or piece of chocolate (or two) here and there. I definitely felt ooky once or twice, but I have still never had sugar cause full-blown dumping syndrome. This is both good and bad, as I now know my system will tolerate at least a small portion of foods that contain sugar. Feeling ooky and the looming possibility of dumping syndrome keeps me from truly bingeing on sugar. The maltitol and sorbitol in sugar-free sweets has actually caused more discomfort for me than sugar itself has (though I have to admit I eat a larger portion of the sugar-free stuff--whatever the package says a serving is).

I also seem to feel hungrier more often than I did initially--not just for sugar, but in general. Dry meat, bread and grease are my worst enemies, so I avoid them. I used to love almonds and cashews, but nuts have lost their luster. I'm still getting most of my protein from beans, peanut butter, or supplements. I have noticed an increased lactose intolerance when it comes to milk, though cheese, cottage cheese and sour cream have not been a problem. I have also been drinking diet soda--though not a great deal, and not every day. Lately I've been drinking several cups of hot tea with Stevia every day, which I enjoy and which makes me feel full. I used to hate hot tea, but I've found some really good flavors lately. I think my favorites are Celestial Seasonings Bengal Spice, and Gypsy Tea Gingerbread Chai.

I haven't gained any weight, but I am a little worried. It is coming off so slowly now, and I still haven't been cleared to work out yet. I feel a little panicky that I'm more hungry and that I know I can eat some sugar. I'm also a bit freaked out by the way my body is changing. Mr. Salted observed that I probably haven't been through anything remotely like this since puberty. He has a point--and no wonder I get neurotic, because my puberty was H-E-L-L. (Don't get me wrong--I don't think anyone's adolescence is any picnic--but I was one of those unfortunate little girls that was visibly developing in the second grade. It was extremely scary at the time, not just because I couldn't control what my body did, but because of the way the world seemed to react--what felt like the whole world seemed not only all too aware of what was happening, but just as uncomfortable with it as I was.)

As I type and articulate this, it begins to make total sense that my world feels full of triggers at the moment. Once again, I am in a transitional period where I can't control what my body does--it loses weight, but only from where it damn well wants to. I've lost 62 pounds, but I'm not proportionate. I can see the loose skin thing happening in the near future, as certain regions are feeling a bit deflated as of late.

There are also the things people say. "Even your head looks smaller," one friend told me. (???) People will say "hey, skinny," which, of course, was a taunt I heard many times growing up. I know the people I know now mean well, but it feels weird--not only am I far from skinny, but I seriously doubt that even my skeleton is skinny. "You're really a petite woman," I've heard more than once since surgery, or "I never knew how tiny you were." I saw some friends on Christmas Day that I hadn't seen since before I had surgery. "You look fantastic," one of them said. Later, when I was walking to the restroom, I heard him repeat to Mr. Salted, "she looks fantastic." Even when it is positive, it is still so, so hard for me to hear my looks being discussed like I can't hear what is being said. I have to remind myself constantly: I'm not thirteen years old, and it's not malicious. Being steeped in dissociation from my body since I can remember, I myself have also been heard to remark, "I don't know what is under there." (Read: I don't know what the body under the fat is like.)

And I don't.