Like I said in my previous post, I am now on my pre-surgery blended diet as of Monday. And I will be on it for two more weeks until my surgery on Feb. 12th. I am happy to report that I haven’t cheated once. I haven’t even licked a potato chip. The reason for the blended diet — to help me lose even more weight before surgery, shrink my liver and shrink my stomach. For those of you who interpret “blended diet” as an endless buffet of strawberry margaritas, let me clarify:
1 serving Coco Wheats
16 oz homemade smoothie (fat free sugar free yogurt, banana, 1/4 c orange juice)
1 cup instant mashed potatoes
1 Soup at Hand soup, no noodles or chunky items
1 fat free sugar free pudding cup
1 fat free sugar free jello cup
1 package of instant oatmeal (prepared with water)
1 cup fat free refried beans, thinned with taco sauce
1 cup fat free sugar free pudding cup
1 cup pureed hamburger
Also, no carbonated beverages are allowed, along with no drinking during meals. I must drink 8-10 glasses of water a day (which hasn’t been hard for me). Putting more into the gullet has never been an issue. I’m also trying to scoot glasses of milk into my routine as often as possible (milk is a recommended drink post-surgery, given the high protein).
For anyone out there who thinks I’m being a pussy about this, I challenge you to try it for one day. Sure, it seems like a reasonable amount of food, but here’s the thing — it’s all BLENDED. This means your stomach never has anything to glom on to, and you never get full. OK, you are somewhat satisfied for about 45 minutes after eating the mashed potatoes or the refried beans. And by somewhat satisfied, I mean the fullness you experience after you bogart the green olives from your grandma’s relish tray before Thanksgiving dinner. At all other times, you are hungry. Pull-a-cheeseburger-out-the-trash hungry. Squirt-condiment-packs-of-mayo-into-your-mouth hungry. Knaw-your-own-arm-off-eat-it-throw-it-up-and-eat-it-again hungry.
I feel myself entering a state of starvation zen. I see the normal folk eating their sandwiches and popcorn and chocolate chip cookies. I feel a million miles away from them, sitting in my cube at work, sucking down my cream of broccoli. How in hell did I end up at this point? Damn you, Snickers! Damn you, Cheez-Its! Damn you all to hell.
I’m trying to just accept the hunger. I’m sure if I were to hork down some sesame chicken — just this once — my doctor would probably never know. But I can’t open that door, because I won’t be able to close it again. I really want to do this right. I know I’m working towards a goal — one that’s easily visible from here. I just need to hold on for a few more weeks. It’s the whole week thing that seems unachievable. Getting through this one day, I can do that. Now I just need to keep getting through the days until February 12th.
I have told three people about this surgery – untitledhusband, untitledmother and untitledmother-in-law. Oh, and my boss (thought she might wonder where I am for those two weeks). I plan on telling no one else, besides you all. I don’t know why I want to keep things so private, but I think it has something to do with the public nature of being fat. You have to wear your demons on the outside, for everyone to see. Now, I just want to pull the curtain and deal with this in private. I don’t want to be the subject of whispers and gossip. I don’t want every pound lost or gained to be a matter of public record. Soon enough, the weight loss will be obvious. If anyone is brazen enough to ask me where my ass went, I will be honest. But until then, I’ll just sit here and quietly starve.