And how.

Everything is different and nothing is different. I can go with my friend and our kids to the Museum of Science, get stuck in traffic, and get home. I can hang at my friend’s with our kids and have a playdate, have a few bites of pretzels and chips. A smidge of cake, even. I can attend a child’s birthday party. I can I can I can. I’m totally normal.

Except that I can’t eat. Well, I can. But not really. Not normally, just yet. I know it’s coming. I know it’s there, on the horizon.

Is that good? Or is that bad? I’m not sure. It’s good because I miss eating, I miss being able to just eat like a regular person. So yes, I want to do that again. I want to be able to take advantage of free kids meals at Texas Roadhouse on snow days.


Then what happens? Do I go off the rails? Will I? Will I waste the work, make it all for nothing? But what if I do?

It’s tough. I’m not able to eat much, successfully. Cheese, though, I can. And I love cheese. Oh god, how I love cheese. So I tend to have it a couple times a day. An ounce in the evening, soft soft brie or cambozola. But I feel weird about that. Like I’ve binged, overeaten, stuffed myself too full. Even if I’ve only had 700 calories that day.

Which should be fine, right? 700 calories. That’s nothing.

Is it? Is that Ok? Is that too much? Will I still lose? Will I lose fast enough?

The Honeymoon Period, they call it. Those first few months after surgery, when the weight falls off you more easily, when you don’t have to struggle as much to peel the pounds off. Before it gets harder. Maybe not as hard as it was before, but harder than it is in the beginning.

So I’m in the honeymoon period? I guess? But it doesn’t feel like a honeymoon. It feels…confusing. And slow. But at the same time, fast. I mean, just shy of 30 pounds down in a month…that’s not slow. That’s fast. So fast that it’s a mindfuck, in a way.

Some clothes are looser, some clothes aren’t as loose as I want them to be. Really, I guess they have to get looser. Eventually. That’s the idea, right?

Hurry up, wait. I want it to be slower, I want it to be faster. I want it to be more less more less more of a mindfuck. I want it to hurry. I want it to slow down. I’m glad I did it. I’m sorry I had to do it. I don’t know.


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