Well I’m off the plateau that I’ve been on since the 29th August but I’m still being a picky bitch about it and thinking that I should have lost more than 8lbs in the past 9 days for christs sake as I have been busting my arse heffing it to work and back up and down sodding Church Lane. I want to have a full on tanty and lie on the floor kicking my feet and thumping my hands on the floor whilst screaming ‘IT’S NOT BLOODY FAIR’. But of course I’m nearly 27 and a growned up and small parts of my brain are telling me that actually I should stop effing and jeffing and just shut up because losing 8lbs in just over a week is pretty incredible so I don’t feel justified in ‘scweaming and scweaming until I’m sick’.
The problem behind my desire to tantrum myself through the afternoon is because my head, although shrunken (not like a voodoo man’s shrunken heads, just smaller than before) in physical size is still ginormous in mental size. I can’t see a change in myself because I see myself everyday apparently and I am still sceptical when people tell me they can see a change if they know that I’ve had surgery as my bad head parts try to tell me they’re just being polite. I’m yet to have a compliment from someone who doesn’t know that I’ve been under the knife and so it’s easy for my head to play games about people feeling obliged to be nice.
As of today I am no longer super morbidly obese (cue party poppers and a big fat cake… Or err, maybe not the cake eh?), something that may seem a little odd to celebrate but for me, at this moment in time, anything will do. Having said in a previous blog that I am my own worst enemy it’s ironic that the problem is now rearing it’s ugly head and causing me to willock on at Lady Headstrong until I am sure she wants to throttle me. I’ve lost 21% of my excess weight since the 6th July when I started the pre-op diet which is great going but my head keeps telling me it’s not and I’m left feeling as though I have been cheated by hitting a plateau so early out and thus shortening my window of weight sliding off opportunity. I know I’ve lost inches on the plateau as the lovely new brassiere that I lovingly encased Larry the left and Romily the right in three short weeks ago is now too big. It’s been hoiked in two notches on the back and yet my boobies are still rolling around in the cups, a sad reminder that I’m soon going to be ‘Nally No-Boobs’.
I’m left hoping that my head will start shrinking and I’ll start realising quite what I’ve accomplished. Lady Headstrong has been a bit of a rock as she instinctively knows what I am thinking and can vocalise it for me whereas I sit there whimpering and mumbling about ‘it not being fair’. I am seeing the worlds most gorgeous nephew this weekend and so it will be interesting to compare how much he weighs to how much I’ve lost, the cuddlier equivalent of nipping to LIDL and buying 12 blocks of lard before sticking it in a rucksack and strapping it to your back. Maybe it’s time to get the camera out and take some post plateauville piccies for a before and after session. Maybe it’s time to stop being such a girlpants about the whole thing and just accept that as long as I am doing right by my pouch and my body the weight will flippin’ come off in it’s own time. Or maybe I need to be shot in the head for being such a wuss 😉