Craziness

Somehow I continue to maintain my sanity in my new life with a tiny stomach.  If I let it, my life right now would be totally consumed by numbers. It could drive a sane person crazy and I'm not sure I was sane to begin with.

My BMI (body mass index) used to be 46, now it's 31.5 and my doctor wants it to get down to 26.5, though normal is below 25.  My pants were a size 20, shirts 1x.  Today I wore a size 10 pair of shorts and a medium top.  The number I hated the most was my weight, a whopping 226.9 pounds.  Monday I weighed 156.  My goal weight is 130.  

I have to chew each bite of food 30 times and wait 30 minutes after drinking to eat and another 30 minutes after eating to drink.  Each meal should be slowly consumed over 45 minutes.  Eating and drinking too fast gives me a stomach ache, accompanied by nausea.  I must get in 60 grams of protein a day and 64 ounces of fluid.  I read every food label carefully for sugar, fat and protein.  Except for fruits and vegetables, if it doesn't have protein, it doesn't touch my lips.

 Every three months, I have my blood levels checked for cholesterol, electrolytes and signs of malnutrition, secondary to my surgery.  When I see my surgeon all these numbers are reviewed individually, along with my weight and BMI. 

My life is complicated enough without having to keep track of all that stuff. I was obsessed with food prior to surgery and I could just as easily become obsessed again.  The tornado of numbers whirling in my brain give me a headache and with some of my few remaining brain cells left after death by lack of ice cream, I have made a conscious effort to completely rid myself of fixating over a few fucking numbers.   No graphs will ever be used.  I will continue to stick to the designated diet and food regimen, but I will not go crazy doing it.  I step on the scales once, sometimes twice a week, never more.  I don't count calories and I keep a mental tally of protein grams.  I do the best I can with fluid and I forget to count my chews at almost every meal.  I'm not sure this is the right way to go about it, but it's what I'm doing.

I have yet to look at a before picture and don't have a current picture.  I hate it when people say I look great, though I am learning to say "thank you".  It's fun to wear cute clothes and I really like seeing the sizes drop, but I'm still Anne and I'm still struggling to find some sanity in this whole thing.