Saturday, December 01, 2012

discount on underwater mp3 player expires Monday

Not a sponsored post. I'm just passing on a code.  This is the underwater MP3 player I currently use (I actually have 2, I bought an extra one during the last promo) and it's great.  The only thing I don't like is that the clip is very weak and I had to replace it when it broke, with a binder clip held on by an elastic band and some thread.
It is truly tiny, the size of a pack of dental floss, and I attach it to my hair clip at the back of my head.

UwaterG4 -World's Smallest Waterproof MP3 & Earphones!!

Special Holiday Promotion 
Get your 20% Discount + FREE BONUS Gift- Here's How:
Simply check link below and insert this discount coupon code at shopping cart: swimG4.  Remember to click "Apply Discount" before checking out. Valid through midnight Mon Dec 3, 2012.

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Wednesday, October 10, 2012

cheap, fast, or good--pick any two

I got an email a couple of days ago inviting me to write a few paragraphs about my experiences with weight loss, for L.A. Bariatrics of Marina Del Rey, and what advice I would give others trying to lose weight.  I don't really know what they want, but here goes.

When you want to lose weight, you have to take stock of your life and your environment and see what variables you can control and what ones you cannot.  I believe there are 3 major components to weight loss; I see them as sliders on a big mixing board:  food quality, food quantity, and exercise.
Maybe you really hate to exercise, or you've blown out your knees trying, or you're just so fat it's not possible right now.  So that slider is set to the minimum.  That means you have to concentrate on your intake.  If you eat good quality food (fruits, veggies, fiber, complex carbs) , you can usually eat more food--those sliders seem to move together.  If you eat poor quality food (processed, simple carbs, fried), you'll have to eat less of that food.
You need to play around with the balance.  Obviously the optimal setting would be mid-range for all.  Once in a while, you have some poor quality (but tasty!) foods in small quantities and you get a small amount of exercise each day.  If you like to eat a lot all the time of all foods, then you need to ramp up your exercise.  Something's gotta give.  It's like the repair shop sign my uncles used to display:  "Repairs can be fast, cheap, or good--pick any two."  You can eat a lot, you can eat poor quality food, or you can be lazy.
junk food + lazy = not much food
Lots of food + lazy= no junk food
Good quality food + exercise = lots of food
Obviously you can play with the balance day by day.  If you're going to a fair and you'll be walking around all day, eat some horrible fried thing (this year I saw fried Kool-aid!  Yuck), but just a little of it.  If you're going to the all-you-can-eat buffet, make good choices if you want to load up your plate, or be prepared to hit the gym extra later on.  It's really common sense.  And it's YOUR body and YOUR sense of what works and what doesn't.  The scale will tell you.  How you feel physically will tell you.  (I crave ice cream but when I eat it, although it tastes great, in an hour I feel like crap.)  How your clothes fit will tell you.
And here is a weird bit of advice from someone who blogs her every thought & deed (no filter between my brain and my typing fingers!) might not want to tell anyone you're trying to lose weight.
But, but, but...I need support, Rosie, you cry to me in an email.  Fine, I will support you, my email address is below.  In person, though, it's a different story.  People don't understand.  They don't know the details of the regime you're on (whether it's the 3 part slider scale I offered above, something assigned by a bariatric doctor, or surgery, or a commercial weight-loss program) and they make assumptions.  Maybe you're having a heavy-exercise, bad-food day.  "I thought you were on a diet.  Why did you order dessert?"  and "Why do you work out so much, you're going to hurt yourself."  When you're having a quality food day, "All that rabbit food is no good for you." "you've lost enough weight, eat some real food."  "Why don't you treat yourself?"
People think they are helping but they insidiously undermine you.  They  might not even realize it.  You'd think your fat friends would be the most supportive, but no, nobody wants to be the fattest friend, they want to keep you fat as possible.  Your thin friends don't want you to get thinner and prettier than them and be in competition.  
You are losing weight for YOURSELF. It's nobody's business how or why you are doing it.  If someone says, "hey you look good, did you lose weight?" You can just say yes and change the subject.  In fact a friend of mine (who is doing the same weight loss program I am) posted an article that it's really in bad form to compliment people on weight loss.  To say "you look good" implies that you looked like crap before.  And what if the person isn't dieting, what if she's sick and pointing out her weight loss is a faux pas of massive proportions?  Can you imagine: "Hey, Marie looks so good, how much weight has she lost?"  "She has cancer."  Oops.

So I hope this is of use to you, my loyal readers, and also to the people at L.A. Bariatrics.

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
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Wednesday, October 03, 2012

strength as a bad thing

I went out with a good friend of mine today.  We have a lot in common.  We are both fat (she had weight loss surgery but it didn't really take) and we have no fathers and we've been through a lot of medical stuff with our families.  My dad had dementia and when we finally put him in a nursing home, my grandma had a stroke and had to move in with  my mom so we were dealing with both of them at once.  They are both gone now and yes, it's a relief to have a breather after 9 years of care giving.   My friend's mom used to be in the military and after she broke her foot she just kept walking on it until she was crippled, and then once she was in a nursing home she got dementia.  She died, and then my friend's aunt got dementia (and her aunt had no children, so my friend cared for her too)--we were both going through all this at the same time.  So, totally, been there, done that.  For both of us, this is our first year of holidays free of caregiving.
And now enter the problem with my mother in law.  We spent a lot of time talking about it tonight.  My friend had this to offer, and she is so right:  that she and I are very strong willed people, who see what needs to be done and step up and do it.  We have (or had) very strong willed mothers also.  My mother-in-law is weak (she sees herself as a victim and as helpless and always has) and she didn't raise strong children.  Confronted with her ongoing medical issues, they have basically just caved in.  My sister-in-law admitted that the family is afraid of my "clarity of vision" and strength of will.
So instead of depending on me, leaning on my strength and experience, they are turning on me and using it against me.   That baffles me.  But I think my friend is right.   She said that I should just say, "Why don't you just leave her alone in the hoard, don't clean it up, don't run over there every 5 minutes, don't do anything. Let nature take its course."  Because she'll die in that hoard and maybe that's what she wants.
It just really hurts me that they can all look me in the eye and say "give whatever advice you want, we're not going to listen because she's sick and we have to follow her wishes exclusively."  Yes, even when those wishes are detrimental to her health!
Except in jobs with weak bosses, this is the only time in my life I've been punished for being strong and seeing what needs to be done.  It's crazy.  But I'm going to keep thinking "let nature take its course" and taking a deep breath....

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Monday, September 24, 2012

I don't wanna go to your pity party (off topic)

If you're my friend on Facebook, you know I've been losing my mind the last few weeks. (If you aren't my FB friend, why not?  I'm funny over there too.  Friend me & Follow me.)   There's an out-of-control situation with my husband's family that is making me quite literally insane. It's messing with my weight loss too--not because I"m eating out of control, but because my stress hormones are through the roof.  It's not appreciated by me on many fronts.
This is what's going on.  I'll try to NUTSHELL it, although it's fairly impossible.  My mother-in-law is a hoarder, a typical one like you see on TV, lost her husband and then lost her mind and stopped cleaning, stopped caring, sunk into depression....over FORTY years ago.  IMHO: Get over it.  Throw out your trash and start living your life.
She doesn't like me much.  I know this because last year she wrapped my Christmas gift in white tissue paper and wrote my name on it with a black Sharpie, and then I found out she didn't even BUY me the gift, my sister-in-law did.  My future sister-in-law (my brother-in-law's fiance)'s gift was wrapped in lovely paper with a nice tag that I'm sure MIL picked out herself.  Oh, and she took FSIL & SIL to the opera, invited them both in front of me, and didn't invite me.  Not that I give a crap about the opera, but it's the POINT. 
Another example, it was my husband's birthday and she wanted to have lunch with him.  She picked one of those little fried fish/hot dog places that are everywhere in New England (knowing my absolute hatred of fish).  He went to pick her up, with me in the car.  She came out and tried to get into the passenger seat.  I was already in it.  She stared at me and then said "Oh, I didn't think you were coming."  In other words, "I picked this place because I thought you wouldn't eat there" (which is her usual MO).  I stared back at her and said "I'll walk home if you don't want me here" (cuz truth is, I don't LOVE that place, and wouldn't pick it, but they make a decent hot dog) and she got all flustered and said I didn't have to do that.  I wanted to go home and cry or punch something, I was so sad and angry. 
So there are 3 examples, just in the last year, of how my MIL doesn't like me.
Now she is sick.  I honestly don't know what's wrong, I think she has a brain tumor or possibly early stage dementia.  My husband agrees.  His sister and brother don't.  Therefore no one is taking her to the doctor and she's got no diagnosis and no treatment.  She is filthy (stinky) and incoherent and claims to be blind (that's a long story; I don't believe she is blind.  I think she has some kind of hysterical blindness or the dementia/tumor is in her visual cortex because 2 eye docs say her eyes are fine).  She shouldn't be living alone.  She can't drive.  She won't do anything for herself.  My husband is her slave right now.  It's pissing me off.  She's milking this illness, being deliberately manipulative.  And I've VERY familiar with dementia, unfortunately, and dementia patients aren't crafty enough mentally to manipulate this masterfully when they are as far gone as she pretends to be. If you can follow that. 
Here's a typical exchange.  He calls her. "It's time to go eat at Rosie's mom's house."  Response: some kind of hysteria, I don't feel well, I can't possibly go.  He races to her house.  She breaks down crying, her usual victim-mentality pity-party, no one loves her, she's blind and old and helpless.  My husband has to stay there and console her.  My mom cooked for 4 and now she's stuck with massive leftovers because MIL won't let my husband leave for half an hour to eat his supper.  MIL needs to get out of the house, she needs to go for a drive, so he drives her around while she cries and wails and feels sorry for herself and he tells her how wonderful she is.  (She sounds like a child when she acts like this, it's really annoying and very fake.)  She tells him how much I hate her and how I bully her and order her around and refuse to help her. (Because I told her to clean up her filthy house and I won't feel pity for her.)  She has anti depressants and refuses to take them!  "I don't need those" she said last time I was there filling her 7 day pill dispenser.  But when I went to wait in the car I could hear her crying and wailing about how mean I am and how horrible her life is.  Take your anti depressants, everyone takes them, who cares?  There's no stigma anymore.
Something along these lines literally has happened EVERY DAY for the past 3-4 weeks.  "You have to come now, I lost my glasses."  Run over there. "Oh, I found them."  She doesn't answer her phone, I get a dozen text messages screaming for me to see if she's dead in the hoard (we live near her, sadly).  She unplugged the phone, or shut off the ringer, or broke the charger, or lost the phone (pick one, it's different each time!).
My husband gets mad at ME.  "You don't help my mom."  "I offered to help her clean her house."  "No, that's ordering her around and telling her what to do.  She needs HELP."  "I offered to take her to a geriatric specialist doctor & find out what's really wrong with her"  "My sister says no."  Well, I'm not going over there while she cries and wails and whines like a child for attention and validation.  That's not helping her.  What would help her is getting her a correct diagnosis and treatment for whatever is wrong with her.  If it's dementia or a brain tumor it will only get worse and usually treatment only slows it down, doesn't restore lost function.

Right now we are doing her laundry (at our house of course), buying her groceries, driving her everywhere, buying her food in restaurants.  We can't afford it.   I'm so upset and depressed that I'm sleeping 16 or more hours a day and not doing anything constructive when I'm awake.  I get up at 6, go to the pool, come home at 9:30 and go back to bed until mid afternoon, then I eat something and read and then go back to bed. My husband works 60 miles away, he's gone 12-14 hours on a GOOD day and then he has to go over there for several hours after work EVERY DAY and more on the weekend.
Something's gotta give and I'm seriously worried that it's going to be my sanity or my husband's health.  
Nothing constructive can be done with this situation until she has a diagnosis.  She doesn't want to go to any doctors that aren't eye doctors (and she doesn't even have another appointment with any of them, they've already signed off saying she's not blind).  She won't clean her house until she can see.  I can't spring into action with my patented Rosie the Manager plans until we know what is going on.  I tried using my plans, such as they are, based on nothing, and that only got me scorn and hatred (you order me around!  you're a meanie!).
I spent the most of the last 10 years taking care of a sick father (who had dementia) and a sick grandmother. I'm done with caregiving for the immediate future.  If that makes me selfish, so be it.  My MIL has THREE children who could be helping her and 2 are refusing and that's not fair.  I've got nothing left to give anymore--my mom better stay healthy for a long time! 
Now I'll shut up and go be fat somewhere else.

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
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Friday, August 17, 2012

crotch noodles in the pool

This is really starting to gross me out.
These old women, many of whom are none too clean and none too incontinent, no longer use float belts.  They jam one or more foam noodles between their thighs instead.  These are not their private noodles, they are the public noodles belonging to the physical therapy place. (And most of the time they are in SHALLOW water, with their feet firmly on the bottom!)
Imagine this.  I am in the pool.  I stick my hand under the water and vigorously rub the crotch of my bathing suit, I mean really jam the fabric against the flesh.  And then I swim up to you and hold out that same hand for you to shake.
Would you shake it?
If you wouldn't, then why would you think it's okay to grind a foam pool noodle against your own crotch for an hour or more and then discard it for someone else to touch/use.  GROSS.
When I run (or do any pool exercise) my knees are together. My thighs touch.  This strengthens my hips and legs properly.  If I put a pool noodle or 3 between my legs, that splays my thighs out and makes the angle of my leg and hip awkward.  I am then strengthening that improper angle instead of the proper one, which basically will hurt for the workout and will make it harder to walk and more likely that I'll fall because my muscles aren't used to me moving with my legs straight rather than straddled.
If I have the pool noodle around my chest or back and tucked under my arms, same thing.  Instead of my arms falling naturally at my sides, they are sticking out.  This messes up the alignment of my shoulder and upper arm in the same way as the thighs and hips.
When I'm in the deep end, I use a float belt (my personal belt) that has multiple square floats on a canvas belt.  I can move the floats around so they are in front and in back and they don't impinge upon the movement of my arms.
And of course the real pet peeve is that a pool noodle is not a flotation device.  It is a resistance device. You hold it in your hands and push against the water.  You put it under one thigh and push your leg down.  You do stretches against it.   You need it to be relatively straight.  Not bent in half from being ridden and filthy with crotch grossness and who knows if VD and various lady infections can spread that way.
Am I wrong here?  Too sensitive?

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Saturday, July 14, 2012

in which Rosie makes a diagram

This illustrates my life right now.  This is an original diagram that I made.

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Monday, July 09, 2012

"beyond my capacity to handle"

I've been now 3 times to the bariatric weight loss place. The initial free visit, the first visit, the first follow up. I lost 12 lbs in 12 days.
I didn't feel good about the third visit. I didn't feel good before I went there and when I left I didn't feel reassured.
None of my questions were answered.  There is zero leeway to eat any other foods.  There is never a "free" meal or extra "points" to spend or anything like that, that most commercial diets and diet books offer.
I expressed my displeasure at the only allowable bread having Bible verses on it.  He acted like I just told him something unbelievable.  I'm sorry, it's a religion that hates my religion.  I don't want to give them money.  If I was Jewish would you make me eat bread with Nazi swastikas and propaganda on it? 
I'd come up with something I thought I could make work to offer, but I wasn't even given the chance after it was made very clear that there was NO DEVIATION.
When I complained about the sugar alcohol (LAXATIVE) in the bars, he scoffed.  It doesn't affect any other patients.  I happen to know that I am sensitive to it--when the serving size of a sugar free chocolate candy is 3 or 4 pieces I can only eat one before I must rush to the toilet.  Apparently I'm lying about that.
He waved aside and ignored the fact that I'm spending extra time in bed daily, due to utter lack of strength, crying because I am so unhappy and sick.
When I pointed out that all my dementia-like symptoms -- plus my migraine and my hands shaking -- went away within 10 minutes of eating half a tortilla, you woulda thought I said I blew the Pope.  You can't eat white flour!  It was corn.  You don't know that!  Anything could have been in that!  But I felt better.  It doesn't matter, you can't run around eating flour and pasta and rice and bread and potatoes ever again.
well fuck you. No one in the modern world eats like that.
He said that my therapist in Pennsylvania had to give me the name of a therapist up here who ONLY does eating disorders and that I have to have that person's name and contact info and an appointment time in hand at my next visit.  I felt like it was a bit of an ultimatum.   Like if I come back and I don't have that information, I'm getting kicked out.
Damn it, I'm trying. I'm trying so hard I'm at the point of collapse.  I'm sick and tired and sad.  I lost 12 lbs in 12 days--he expected me to lose 4.
All I ask is that every 4 days or so I can eat a little bit of real carbs.
He said that it's not a low carb diet and that I'm eating plenty of carbs.  Then why am I in ketosis complete with death breath?  Oh because it's low carb and low fat.  Oh, but not low carb.  I get it.  I need some more carbs.  No you don't.  Yes I do.  I can't function.  You are eating plenty of carbs.  No I'm not.
I know you are but what am I.
Apparently after I left he talked to my therapist Deb in Pennsylvania and said "She is beyond my capacity to handle."  
Excellent.  I rock.
We'll see what happens when I go back there on Friday sans new therapist info.  Because guess what, Deb doesn't know anyone and she told him that.  I found someone but I need a doctor recommendation to go there.  So another impasse.
Also, I want an orange.   I would like an orange once a week and a tortilla once a week.  Not even on the same day.  Why is that insane?
(Also, I don't exercise enough. I am up to 33 miles a week running--that's 330 minutes a week--plus tai chi but NOT ENOUGH.  Why is Rosie never enough?)

Facebook is on a roll to shut down my personal account.  If you are FB friends with me and NOT a fan of my page, better make the change while you can.  I have no ID in the name Rose Young or cell phone to prove I'm real (which I'm not) so eventually so morning I'll be locked out for good.  My FB fan page is administered by my real name FB page so it shouldn't go away. I hope.

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
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Monday, June 25, 2012

Medical Weight Loss program: the beginning

So I spent the weekend saying goodbye to food because today I start this medical weight loss program. I'm gonna be so skinny! In fact I am quite a bit more muscular than I thought, I'm only 44% fat. Basically the amount of me that is muscle is my goal weight. Strip off all this fat and I'm perfectly sized and ripped underneath. I'm psyching myself up. I'm gonna do this. I'm gonna eat stuff even if it tastes bad. When I go back in 2 weeks I'll have lost so much weight they won't believe it. 
I'm going to up my pool workouts to 100 minutes per day instead of 80-90 and go to tai-chi a half hour early and get 90 minutes instead of 60 a week.
So last night I pre-made the first batch of pudding. I'm supposed to eat this pudding 2x a day.  It was supposed to be a combination shake-pudding mix but evidently they gave me the wrong one because it's pudding only.  I ate a spoonful.  Chemicals.  Some kind of really bitter fake sugar.  It was supposed to be chocolate but I couldn't find any chocolate taste in there.  Well, it wasn't set yet, right?
The deal is that I have to eat some of this pudding within an hour of when I get up.  Even though I go to the pool and I could vomit and they'd have to close the pool.  So the compromise is that I can eat a spoonful or two and when I get out of the pool I have to finish it.
It's even worse congealed. It's like eating a cold brain with bitter fake sugar poured on it.  I managed to get down less than half of it, using it to wash down supplements.
Oh did I mentions supplements?  4 new supplements.  One of them is 6 per day, two of them are 2 per day and the other is 3 per day.  On top of the dozen or so pills I already take.  And one of the 2/day ones tastes disgusting.
Of course I have an allowance of 160 oz of water per day to wash them all down, right. Yes, 160.  That's 13+ 12 ounce glasses. 
I go to the pool. I'm gonna run for 100 minutes.  If I do that 3x a week plus 90 minutes of tai-chi, that's 390 minutes (6.5 hours) of exercise.  Because when I told the doctor I run for 90 minutes 3x per week he said it wasn't enough and that he wants an average of 30 minutes per day.  Which is 3.5 hours per week.  I do 4.5 just in the pool plus tai-chi.  But not enough, okay, fine, I'll do more.
First off, this morning no one came to unlock the door at the pool.  Apparently the lady with the key is on vacation? Talk about poor planning.  By the time someone realized, hey, where are all the people, and let us in, it was after 7 a.m.  So that adds that much time to how late I'll be in the pool--till almost 9 a.m. (when I get kicked out due to the old lady stretching class).  It's not even 8 a.m. yet and the pool gets evacuated due to the thunderstorm leaving me with half a workout to make up.  Which I can't do this week because Wednesday, the day I can go for a long time due to the pool's schedule, I have a tech coming to my house to do some work, and next Wednesday is July 4 and the pool is closed.  So I'm already down AN HOUR on day one.
I come home, parcel out my pills, get out the bowl of pudding, pour glass of water #1 and start downing pills with pudding and water.  Gagging.  Too many pills, not enough food, food tastes horrible.  I think I maybe ate half the bowl of pudding.  Couldn't take it anymore.
That's okay because it's mid morning snack time!  I get a bar.  I chose a Coconut Almond Fudge protein bar.  Sounds yummy enough right? I'm not a HUGE fan of coconut but really flavors are limited.  The texture of the bar is okay, it's nice.  Not like cold jellied brains.  But the taste, oh god, it tastes like coconut farts.  I forced myself to eat half of it but oh man I want to hurl.  This is NOT FOOD.  I don't understand the people I talked to who go there who rave "the food is SO GOOD" Obviously they aren't super-tasters and I'm guessing maybe they are non-tasters because the taste is really bad.

Last night my friend who is in pre-med came over and looked at the plan with me.  We are both very confused by some elements.
First off, the doctor who referred me to the medical weight loss place was always highly critical of my food logs whenever I had Slim-fast or my fat-free, sugar-free pudding with protein and fiber added.  She would say "That's not food, your body can't process that, you need to eat real food" even if I'd lost weight.
Trust me, my pudding was edible and tasted ok enough (not great).  Actually compared to this stuff it's gourmet dessert.  So I'm confused why, when I lose weight with shakes and pudding on my own it's bad but when I pay outrageous amounts of money for horrible food it's okay because a doctor sold it to me?
Second, parts of the plan don't make sense.  I can't have dairy products yet most of the packaged food includes dairy products.  I can't have legumes but the packaged products are full of soy.   I can put lemon in my water but I can't have fruit. 
They promised to work with my eating disorder.  That consisted of, "you have to meet us halfway."  Halfway?  You didn't give me ANY concessions.  Oh, 1 slice of bread a day that I've already tried and don't like (Ezekiel bread--packaged in BIBLE verses, really?  Really?)  I didn't see their pysch doctor or the nutritionist at either visit  I don't know the rationale why things are set up the way they are.
But I figure if I keep eating only half of everything I'll be at my goal weight in half the time, right?  Or dead.
Oh, and they didn't take my picture.  That's so weird.
(image source.  I really love how all the pictures that come up for "medical weight loss" shows piles of fruit and this doctor doesn't allow fruit.)

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
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Thursday, June 21, 2012

Gym bans skinny people

Do you agree with this?
A so-called "plus sized gym" called Body Exchange in Vancouver has banned skinny people.
"Body Exchange founder and CEO Louise Green told last week that she considers her gym is a “safe haven” for overweight clients. The fitness center has a strict policy of only allowing plus-size women to join."
So what if you join as a fattie and lose all your weight? Do you get kicked out for being too skinny?
I can see where it would be more emotionally comfortable to be surrounded by your own kind if you're fat.  But you lose the inspiration of seeing someone really thin and wanting to look like that.  And of the motivation of wanting to look good so you can show those skinny bitches who's boss.
I can kinda see why they would do this, but at the same time it's just as prejudiced as saying no fat people allowed.  I'm a fat person but it doesn't make a lot of sense.

There are hardly any thin people at the pool where I work out.  Most people are much older than me.  Many are as fat if not fatter.  But then again I pretty much just ignore them, I have my earphones in cranked up and also my sunglasses on to keep water out of my eyes.

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
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Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Yale, and Gila Monster Venom

I went back to Yale today. I only go once a year now.
It was a rather confusing visit.
I gained weight.  So that was a problem.  I've actually LOST weight since I went back to see Deb, but all Dr Pal sees is the difference between last June and this June.
I have to get bloodwork, what else is new.  Actually last year she didn't make me get any so I shouldn't complain.
Got new prescriptions for all my medicines.  Another problem.  Dr. Pal is angry that my PCP refused to take over the prescriptions on her orders and that they gave me such a hassle.  She said every thing I'm on is something a PCP can prescribe.  She is very upset that my current PCP really doesn't seem to give a shit about me (it's basically a group of doctors; you see someone different every time).  Really, Dr Pal, are you surprised that a doctor doesn't care about an overweight patient? I'd say Dr P is in the minority. So she gave me the name of a new doctor, not local of course, to be my PCP, someone who works with overweight patients and actually cares about their progress.
She brought up weight loss surgery again.  And again I said that I was denied for psychiatric reasons, my eating disorder and probably with my Habba Syndrome it wouldn't be a good idea.  So she wants me to go for something called "Medical Weight Loss" (all the way in New Haven, of course). I think it's going to be shakes.  Ugh.  I don't wanna.  Waiting for them to call me with an appointment.
And surprisingly the doctor blames herself. She said she isn't helping me anymore, she's only seeing me once a year, she can't be my PCP, and she feels horrible that my PCP is so awful.'s the kicker....she wants to add a new medicine.  New as in just approved in January.  It's shots, once a week, which will help with weight loss, but it's made from Gila monster venom.  Shots, ugh.
So it's just been an UGH type of day.  If the shots work, fine, but still.  Shots.  Gila monster venom.  I like lizards but I don't want to ingest OR inject them. 
(Gila Monster image source)

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Sunday, April 15, 2012

I'm sorry calamari

What part of this is labeled FOOD?
If you follow this blog at all, or know me in real life, you know how much I hate fish. It' snot food. It smells like garbage.  And don't give me the patented "fresh fish doesn't stink" speech, it ALL stinks.  Fish are lovely friendly cute PETS they aren't FOOD.  I spent yesterday helping my friend dig one of her two new ponds and I'm going to be excited to go over there and play with her outside fish.  But not to eat them.
Last night, after the digging was done, we went to a Chinese buffet.  This buffet has sushi. It's my compromise with my husband.  He can have his sushi there and I have other things I can eat.
I had a nice plate of veggie lo mein with some sweet and sour chicken pieces mixed in.  I picked up a piece of chicken, put it in my mouth and was about to bite down when the taste hit me.  OMG. It was a piece of fish.  I wanted to scream, cry, throw up AND faint all at once.  I projectile spit it out into my napkin and couldn't eat again. I just didn't trust any of the chicken after that. I went over to the chicken area and checked it out.  Right behind the metal bin of chicken was a metal bin of calamari, same color breading.  No doubt some jerk used the same spoon or carelessly strew calamari throughout the chicken. No way. I might never eat there again, that's how grossed out I am.  FISH was in my MOUTH.  If you can't understand how upsetting that was to me, imagine eating food out of the trash (if you're not one of those nasty freegans) or a piece of poop.  That's about equal to how I view fish-as-food.
We got out to the car and I started eating menthol cough drops trying to get the taste out of my mouth.  Lots of Listerine when I got home & brushed my teeth and I still felt like I could taste it.  I thought about swishing around some soap in there but I figured that would make me vomit.
I want to cry thinking about it.
In my mouth.
(image source)

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Friday, April 13, 2012

the knees of a fat lady

I was invited to be in a knee arthritis study. I do have it in my left knee, but not my right. I had to get new xrays for the study and I thought I'd share. I'm not really in pain (my regular doctor was quite concerned that I don't get any treatment)--sometimes it hurts, mostly it doesn't. So the diagnose is that I have bone spurs and thinned cartilage.  Which of these makes my knee click when I walk, and makes it sound like broken glass when I bend it a certain way, I don't know.  Even my doctor was grossed out by the broken glass noise.
What I find most interesting is that you can clearly see how much edema my left leg has and how much larger it is than my right. I assume the very dark part around the bones is my muscle, and there's twice as much "not muscle" (fat, edema, who knows) on the left side than the right. In fact on the right leg, except at the very top of the inside calf, the muscle and skin layer are the same.

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Monday, April 02, 2012

Rosie is a threat to national security

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to meet one of my Internet friends in person.  My husband's company sent him to a conference that just happened to be in her town.  I could stay free in his hotel room.  I just had to pay my air fare.
We ended up flying separately due to booking separately (his flights got changed, mine didn't.  And I'm the one who used Expedia; he used his corporate travel office).  I've flown alone many times.  I don't much care about being alone except when I have to pee and there's no one to watch my bags so I have to lug them into the airport bathroom.
It's also not the first time I've flown with my legs wrapped (although it's the first time I've flown with them wrapped PROPERLY in Comprilan rather than in Ace-style bandages).  In the past they've swabbed my bandages or just touched them.  I don't have a problem with that. 
I wore full-length 4" bandages ankles to knees on both legs (usually I wear 1/2 length 3" bandages just on my ankles for every day use).
I endured the full naked body x-ray thing in Hartford.  They waved me through.  Didn't care.
Went on my trip, saw my friend for a couple of days, hung out with my husband at night, came home alone (he had more days to his conference but I missed my pets).
Get to the airport at my friend's city.  Do the full-body naked x-ray.  And get pulled out of line.  "I have to inspect your lower legs."  I said, very calmly, "I have lymph edema, it is a medical condition involving the swelling of the lower extremities and it is exacerbated by flying.  I have long bandages on each leg, attached by 2 safety pins and some tape."  I did not say "I have a bomb!"  I did not say "If you touch my legs I'll kick you in the nuts!"  I would have willingly rolled up my pants legs. Instead the TSA bitch grabbed my legs and started yanking on the bandages through my pants.  I said, still calmly "You'll pulling off my bandages."  She said, uncontritely, "Sorry," and continued to yank them free. Never LOOKED at them, just pulled them off.
I walked away from Security with 20 yards of half-secured Comprilan flopping around my ankles.  Wrapping that much bandage tightly and securely is really difficult when I'm in a proper set-up with help.  Doing it alone in an airport bathroom is pretty much impossible (I tried, in the handicap stall).  I ended up balling them up and sticking them into my carry-on and doing the 7 hours of flying with naked legs.
I can't remember the last time my legs were so fat and misshapen and discolored and painful.  Honestly my left leg (the bad one) looked like someone had swapped my leg for a sheer bag of purple potatoes.  My right ankle was red and the skin all stretched and gnarly looking.
I had no food all day and by the time I got back to Hartford I was starving, in horrible pain, and exhausted.  I still had to get the car from the valet place where we left it, drive somewhere to eat, and go home.
And spend a while contemplating how exactly a fat lady wearing an 20+ year old jacket with a band logo (guess which one), a basically middle-aged (almost), white lady with reddish blond hair and swollen legs is in any way any type of security threat.  The only thing I threatened, honestly, was the integrity of those damn tiny airplane seats.  (No seat belt extender anymore!  Whoo-hoo!).  I was even wearing CROCS on my feet, c'mon people.  There is no way a terrorist could construct such an outfit and make it work.
I'm flying out of the country this fall on our first real vacation in about 5 years.  I don't know what to do now.  Can I staple my bandages onto my legs? I had them taped up in every direction and pinned and she still pulled them off.
I don't want to be viewed as a threat.  Hell, I'm not a threat.  But this isn't the first time I've been singled out and mistreated by the TSA.  Maybe they profile fat white women with cheap shoes now.  Maybe there is a brigade of us, pale and bloated, bombs and illegal liquids hidden in all of our soft fat folds, just waiting to take down another skyscraper.  Somehow I don't think so.  If TLC can find me to offer me places on all their frightening shows, I think I would have been recruited by now by the bombers if such was the case.
And with this post, BAM, now Rosie has an FBI file.  Hell, I've got one in real life, most likely, because I have consorted with, given money to, and taken money from, people considered to be running a cult (and who have been investigated by the FBI).  They can use their Homeland Security magic to trace my real name and combine the two files.  Cultist and terrorist.  I rock.
(image source)

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Saturday, March 31, 2012

Mummified fecal bacteria as an obesity cure

People say they are willing to do anything to lose weight (except, of course, eat less and move more).
Now comes the next new thing: ingesting ancient fecal bacteria to replenish our internal flora that has been ruined by antibiotic use and maybe even the chlorine in drinking water.
According to Mother Nature Network, "If repopulation of gut bacteria does prove to be a viable solution to obesity, then it may not be long before doctors are prescribing microbial soups to their patients based on the fecal bacteria...discovered in the intestines of mummies."
Oh yum.  If I don't even eat fish, which to most people is a normal and viable source of food, there is no way I'm eating soup made from ancient poop.  Can't they make a pill or something?  Although still gross, not as bad as poop soup.

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Sunday, March 18, 2012

fast food paradox

I haven't eaten fast food yet in 2012.*
A few years ago, I ate every day at either Burger King or Wendy's.
I was cleaning and I found my last BK receipt (I had taken the free Whopper survey and saved it)--dated 11/18/2011.  
Every once in a while I have a slight urge for a Whopper.  I simply say, "That's right, I don't eat there anymore" and find food elsewhere.
How the hell did I do this?  If you told me to do it, I wouldn't. I'd rebel. I'd go there twice a day.  But somehow, easily, calmly and with no forward planning whatsoever, I removed both restaurants from my life.  Like surgery taking off a mole.  It used to always been there and sometimes you put your finger on the spot to play wiggle-the-mole but it's gone.
So if I can remove those two places, why can't I rewire my brain in other ways? 
I had a reason.  Several reasons.
Burger King changed their fries.  Their fries absolutely suck now.  So I say, "I don't really want to go there and eat those gross fries," and it's perfectly convincing.
Wendy's also changed their fries but honestly I haven't even tried them, just convinced myself they are also gross. I know they have more calories and more fat and more sodium than the other fries (which, frankly, weren't that good).  My local Wendy's is so crappy in general that I've managed to extrapolate it to all Wendy's.  Lacking a receipt, I can't tell you when I went there last.  But the lovely Internet tells me they changed their fries a full year before Burger King--November 2010.
I want to do this for other things.  Convince myself that places and foods are bad for me and even if I crave them have a reminder that there's a perfectly valid reason not to eat there or eat that thing.
I am working on scheduling a return trip to Deb Donze, my awesome therapist.  I have to ask her if there's a way she can, during hypnosis, do a post-hypnotic suggestion that in the near future I'll make such decisions on my own and not remember that I planned it.
Because if I can do it once, with fast food, I should be able to do it again with other things that are just as bad for me, right? 
(image source)
 *I still eat at Five Guys every couple of months, but I haven't found anyone who truly considers that on par with McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's, etc.

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Wednesday, March 07, 2012


My grandma died a few weeks ago. My mom had hoped that she would die in her sleep peacefully, but it didn't quite happen that way.  Although my grandma TRIED--she had a stroke, but she was breathing so loudly and weirdly from the brain damage that she woke up my mom (sleeping in the next room), who called 911, so grandma ended up dying the next day in the hospital without ever waking up, totally brain-dead.  She was 94.
I was also really sick that week, so it was a bad few days.  I was too ill to go to the hospital (they don't want visitor spreading germs) but I had to go watch my grandma die.  My stress level was really high.  There's only me and my mom now, she's an only child and so am I; I had to be there to support and help her during all this even though I was so sick I could barely function.  Hospital visits, funeral home, florist, restaurant--we had to go to all those places to plan as she was dying and then make the rounds again once she died.  I had to go shopping to pick out black clothes for my mom (unlike me she never wears black, not even pants, while my closet is always prepared for a funeral, or a Goth rave for that matter).
Now that I've had time to adjust to her absence, I'm remembering how very mean my grandma was to me.  I'm not going to say I didn't love her, she was my grandma.  But she had a big mean streak when it came to me and my weight.  She was manipulative and passive-aggressive.  I am not going to miss those things.  I was taught that eating in front of my grandmother meant eye rolls, her grabbing packages from me and loudly reading the calories, being humiliated in restaurants when she pointed out to the servers how fat I am, and things like that.  A perfect example happened when my grandma was living in senior housing, after she sold her house but before she moved in with my mom.  My grandma gave us all chocolate cake for dessert.  The next time I saw her she said after I left that she "cried and cried" because I'm so fat and I ate the cake.  That she served me.  Passive-aggressive. Mean.  When I was little she would take me to horrible "fat girl" shops and make a huge deal out of what size I wore.  We would go out to eat and she'd tell the server I was only allowed to have a "child's portion" because I was so fat (I was 14, 15, 16 years old!  Children's menus end at age 10 or 12 usually.)  If they wouldn't serve me a child's portion, she would demand a box immediately before I was allowed to take a single bite.  She treated me like I had Prader-Willi syndrome and couldn't be near food without eating everything in sight.  When I went to therapy in 2010, trust me, lots of grandma issues come up.  Who the hell has GRANDMA issues? People have mom issues, dad issues, but not grandparent. 
Maybe with her gone now I won't live in fear about eating in front of her.  Not that I'm going to pig out like a P-W sufferer, but maybe I can make choices without seeing if my grandma's looking at me sideways, rolling her eyes, or sighing loudly.
Of course I still have my mom and she can harsh too (the other day she was mocking my body shape, saying I have a "flat ass").  She wants to move in with us because she doesn't want to live in a whole house (with a big yard) alone.   There's good and bad in that situation.  We have to move anyway (my husband got transferred), and having the money from her house sale would help a lot, and she'd help me clean the house and make the gardens nice, but she can be a pain in the butt (whether the butt is flat or not) and loud (Italian--we can't help it) and she talks with her mouth full which makes my husband insane.  The combined household would have 4 cats and a dog, and my mom wants another cat or two.  That's another whole issue that has to unfold.

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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

my 600-lb life: Donald's Story (spoilers)

I'm so behind on blogging these; my grandma died and a whole bunch of other stuff happened in the past couple of weeks that has nothing to do with being overweight but everything to do with sucking up my time.
This is part of a long-term 4 part TLC series on morbidly obese people in the Houston area who went to the same doctor as the Half Ton Teen and had gastric bypass in 2004.  This one is on Donald Shelton--34 years old, 675 lbs.

He had to use one of those hover-round type wheelchairs just to get the mail. His legs are swollen and the skin is almost black.  I am terrified of my legs turning into that.  He lives with his parents who take care of him.  Doesn't seem like they are enabling him but not everyone has the same idea of what enabling means.
It didn't seem like he had to jump through any hoops to get his surgery, they didn't show him having to check in early to lose weight or anything.  After the surgery his legs still looked like giant swollen bruises...and they sent him home in only 4 days.
He lost 87 pounds in the first 4 months and wanted to go out dancing.  But he fell standing up off the couch and he had to take off his shoes and pants before he could get back up.  He was up walking around, and he danced, and he looked pretty cute for someone of his size--one of his female friend said the women would be all over him again in a year.  At 9 months in, he's down 240 pounds and he goes to a family wedding.  2 years out, he's down 303, and he fell and got hospitalized for weakness and ended up somehow in a coma. It turns out that he has a girlfriend who's a meth-head and he's been on crystal meth.  Then they figure out he's got something called Guillain-Barre, an auto-immune disorder that attacks the nervous system and can be fatal.  It ends up having nothing to do with the meth, but he still has to stay in the hospital even after he wakes up because he can't walk.  When the insurance company wants to move him 300 miles from hospital ICU to nursing home care, his family remodels the house to make a hospital room at home. 
At year 4, he's down 392 pounds since surgery, and he still can't walk from his auto-immune disease, and he looks unhealthy-skinny (like a sick person) and his mom feeds him junk food, tacos slathered with sour cream.  Literally feeds it to him as he seems partially paralyzed.  5 years in he's lost 466 lbs and hasn't walked in 2 years due to the other disease.  His legs are thin but still black-skinned.  Doctors said his muscles aren't that wasted but his nerves are messed up. and he ends up moving into a rehab place to gain strength.  He starts gaining weight and the doctor founds out that Donald's mother is feeding him multiple tacos per meal.  
He finds a girlfriend on the internet, she moves in with his mom, and he gains 100+ pounds in the next year.  He's still in a wheelchair.  His girlfriend dumps him and he gets up to 420 pounds.  His legs look even blacker.  He storms out on a meeting with his WLS doctor when the doctor tells him he should be walking and he shouldn't gave gained 200 pounds.  His wheelchair breaks under his vast weight.  He starts to be a really nasty person unfortunately.  He went to therapy place very much like I go to--the pool had the exact same design and edge.  He loses a little weight, down to 390 and tries to reunite with his ex (not the meth chick, the one who moved in).
So not quite a huge success, but not a total failure either.  Of the two shows I've seen so far, both people had significant re-gain of weight. 
When people ask me why I've never had surgery to lose weight, I tell them the truth--that I failed the psych exam.   But I'm not sure I would have gone through with it.  It seems like after the "honeymoon phase" of lots of weight loss it's back to the SSDD--same shit, different day.
(photo source)

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Thursday, February 02, 2012


I am ready to choke someone. Or, as my Southern friends say, "I'm fixin' to choke someone."
I've been going to the PCOS clinic at Yale for a few years.  The doctor there put me on 3 prescriptions--an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety, a diabetes drug (so I don't get diabetes--insulin resistance is part of PCOS), and a mega-dose of vitamins.   None of these drugs has any street value.  I don't think even the anti-depressant is addictive.
Last time I went to the clinic the doctor said that she only needs to see me once a year (not 3-4 times) and therefore she wanted to hand over the prescribing of my 3 medicines to my PCP.  My prescriptions all needed renewing around the first of the year, so in the beginning of December, I dropped off a list of my prescriptions to my PCP with a note explaining the situation.
It's February and I've been going back and forth as a completely ignored liaison between the two offices ever since.
PCP: we can't prescribe these, we haven't treated you for these conditions.  We need paperwork.
Me to Yale: Please send paperwork.
Yale: please fill out another release and fax it.
Me: I don't have a fax.  Can you email it.
Yale:  No, we'll mail it.
Me: I am almost out of anti-depressent and it clearly says not to stop taking it abruptly. Is there another way?
Yale: Go to PCP in person and fill it out there and have them fax.
Me: (Does that.  Waits.   Waits.  Waits.).
Me to PCP:  How about those prescriptions, eh?
PCP: Your doctor is on vacation.  No one else can write them because they weren't prescribed here. Call back after the holidays.
PCP: (in January) Yale didn't send the right paperwork. There are no reasons for giving you medicine.
Me to Yale: you didn't send the right paperwork. 
Yale: we sent your whole file.
Yale: Calm down.
Me: Are you not listening? I've run out of my anti-anxiety medicine that's why I'm NOT CALM. I stopped it abruptly exactly like you aren't supposed to!  Please help me!
Yale:  Okay we will call in a temporary prescription while this is straightened out.
Me: THANK YOU.   (finally takes anti-anxiety pills, feels better)  So can you PLEASE just send my PCP a simple piece of paper on letter head.  This drug, this dosage, this diagnosis.  Repeat as necessary.
Yale: OK.
(Now we come to this week.)
Me to PCP: How about those prescriptions, eh?
PCP:  Oh, after evaluation, we decided not to prescribe them to you.  You need to go see a third doctor to get them.  An endocrinologist.
Me: You mean, like the one at Yale that originally prescribed the meds?
PCP: One of our choosing.  And he can give you the new prescriptions if he agrees with Yale's diagnosis.
Me: (bangs phone repeatedly into head.)
Me to Yale:  HELP.  They want me to see a 3d doctor. Will not prescribe.  Please advise.
Yale:  Okay, we'll call in a year's prescriptions for you.
Me:  (Goes into the corner and weeps.)
I wish I could illustrate this like the Hyperbole and a Half blog.  I've been made to feel like I'm a junkie trying to get a fix.  Really?  Diabetes medicine and mega vitamins?  The PCP didn't come right out and SAY it but it was strongly implied.  I'm FAT, people.  If I was a junkie I'd be THIN. 
Follow-up:  the Yale doctor sent me a very nice email (I never talked to her directly, only assistants, etc) apologizing "that routine care has been made into an issue!" and promising to keep up with prescribing to me. 

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Wednesday, February 01, 2012

600 pound life part 1 Melissa (spoilers)

from the Daily Mail article (linked below)
I'm watching My 600-lb Life on TLC. This is a 4 part series about 4 very obese people who had weight loss surgery 7 years ago. The fires episode is Melissa Morris, 31, 653 lbs. My god, just typing that makes me want to cry.  Since she could walk (HOW?) she believed she "didn't have a weight problem" although she used a scooter to shop, and she couldn't maneuver through aisles between her personal bulk and the scooter.  People openly insulted her as if she was deaf as well as fat.  Doctors wanted her to lose 100 lbs to even have surgery--supposedly in 2004 the upper limit was 350.  I tried to get surgery around then, and I was 364 pounds, so was I too fat? (I got denied anyway so a moot point, I guess.)
Her bariatric surgery, Dr Nowzaradan,  is the same one that did the half-ton boy, so he's got experience (or maybe she predated him, not sure).  She was given a 5% chance of success. She says her husband had to wash her and wipe her because she couldn't do it before her surgery.  In the first 3.5 months she lost 140 lbs (or maybe 6 months, it's not clear, they say both time spans).  She does say that the surgery doesn't fix cravings, the habits of eating food when upset.  She has a giant purse (suitcase size) that she literally hides behind, and she carries deodorant and perfume with her because she says she always smells bad no matter how much she showers.
I worry about that but everyone says I don't smell (even when I think I do) so I really don't know.
When she's over 400 lbs, she buys two seats on the plane and is embarrassed. Hell if I could afford it I'd always buy 3 airplane seats for my husband and I, I hate being cramped and we're both fat-asses anyway.  We've done it for concerts (where tickets are $50 not $500).
When she'd lost 200 lbs, she had her extra skin removed.  She showed it before--my husband remarked "she's got balls" and honestly, it did look like that--dark and wrinkly and hanging between her legs.  I don't blame her for wanting it gone.  I don't know if that was her stomach or what that looked like that, but yeah, it was nasty.   He took 60 POUNDS of skin off her. (It went to help burn victims, yay!  Hate it when it's wasted.)
When she'd lost over 300 lbs, she wears a pair of jeans.  I love my stretch jeans, I feel so skinny even though I'm not (although someone complimented me yesterday when I was wearing them), and she got her driver's license.
Her waist went from 120" to 48" (after her extra skin).  I'm jealous, I'm not sure MY waist is 48 inches.  Her BMI was 113 when she started.  And from the discussions she had with her husband it seems like he might have been a bit of a feeder.  Their relationship seemed off and combative when she got closer to her goals.  Seems like there was a lot of co-dependency going on, he liked her being dependent on him--he went from caring for a sick dad to caring for a morbidly obese wife.
She had another skin removal surgery (butt and thighs), 18 more pounds which took her to under 300 lbs.  After that, she tried so hard to lose weight that she got malnourished.  You can't starve yourself when you have a giant wound.  (I once asked a bariatic surgeon why they don't do the tummy tuck at the same time as the WLS and he said "because you would die"--you couldn't eat enough after WLS to heal from both surgeries.)  She ended up spending over 2 months in the hospital because she was walking funny and couldn't heal--she still walked as if she was really fat.   IMHO, she needed physical therapy to teach her to move in her new body and probably some sort of intensive clinical body work to adjust her spine and hips and all the alignments that must have been screwed up from years of super morbid obesity and limited mobility.   Maybe she got it, I don't know, they don't say.
Four years out, she got down to 160 lbs.  I'm so jealous.  If I woke up and I weighed that, I'd do a happy dance.  And she got a job working with incoming WLS patients--she's actually the one who talked to half ton teen Billy!   Later her doctor said she's 5-10 lbs UNDERWEIGHT.  Her skin is still horrible--wrinkled and saggy and scarred. (I hope she shows THAT during her support meetings--it's something that I don't think many people going for WLS know about, or think about.)
She achieved her goal and got pregnant 5 years out, but lost the baby.  Then she found out that her husband was basically cheating on her--that when she had her initial surgery he was chatting up another obese WLS patient for a future booty call, and he'd been doing the same online.  But for whatever reason she stayed with him and got pregnant a year later--and had gained weight, back up to 206 lbs and beyond, finally having a tiny 5-lb baby girl by c-section.  At the end, she's at 214 lbs with a toddler, although the article linked below says she's at 170.  (But the Daily Mail isn't know for its reporting accuracy.)  Her husband continued to be a horndog and cheated on her but sway.he stayed with him any

"The surgery's not going to give you happiness.  You have to get the happiness from yourself."--Melissa Martin

I find these stories way more inspiring than The Biggest Loser.  They are more real, if that makes any sense.  One person and his/her family, going at it alone after the surgery.  Although TBL people have better bodies at the end of their journey, it's not something most people can emulate. I'm trying--I only get in about 9-10 hours a week of exercise and I feel burned out. 

There's a whole story about Melissa here with pictures.  Unfortunately I couldn't screen print it (too big of a page, I think).

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Monday, January 30, 2012

Handcuffing fat people & dirty pictures of dead people dilemma

I've come to the conclusion that I don't think like other people. To clarify, I don't think like my husband.  For instance, if I see a trash bag bulging at the side of the highway, I wonder if there's a hacked up murder victim inside. I was surprised to hear that my husband has never once considered that.  It seems completely logical to me.
My latest oddball thought (which he also raised his eyebrows at) is: how do really fat people get handcuffed?
Only recently have I been able to get my hands behind my back and I'm not sure they could be handcuffed back there.  In front, I can't really put them together in front of my crotch so my handcuffs would be more at diaphragm level.  And I'm not a huge fatty anymore like I was.  Plenty of the big-belly guys at the pool wouldn't be handcuffable (if that's a word).
And then I wonder about the really big people--the 600 pounders.  How would they even fit in the back of a squad car?  Would you have to hook two pairs of handcuffs together?  Would the metal cuffs even close around their wrists?  The plastic cuffs would probably rip through their fat like a wrist garrote.
This kind of thinking can occupy me for hours.  I need more hobbies, or a job.
Of course the real thought is, what would a 600+ pound person DO to cause him/her self to be arrested in the first place?  Maybe that's a road I don't want my thoughts to wander down.

And in a completely random topic switch, my friend has a dilemma.   Let's call my friend Abby.  Abby's friend Mary forgot her digital camera at Abby's house.  No big deal...but...then Mary was killed in a car accident--a getaway car fleeing the cops hit her.  It's been over a year, and Abby remembered the camera and looked at it to see if there were pictures of Mary to give to her parents, and there are--only the pictures are, um, compromising, and so are the videos.  No one except me knows she has Mary's camera.  Should Abby delete the pictures? It's doubtful her parents would care about the camera itself if there are no (nice) pictures of their daughter on it. Mary's boyfriend recently become engaged to someone else so doesn't seem appropriate to offer them to him.  What would you do with dirty pictures of your dead friend?
(update: there is no one else in the pictures, just Mary.)

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
more Rosie news at

Friday, January 20, 2012

a sad sight (and a gross one, to be honest)

I had to go out to buy a few things (new pots for my plants, mostly) and I stopped at a Chinese place for lunch (yeah, I know Biggest Loser was all over Chinese food this week, but they didn't show anything that I eat there).  None of this is interesting enough to waste a blog post on though.
However, I saw something so very sad when I was there.  A group of men walked in together, probably having a work lunch.  One of them was huge, not only tall but very obese.  He was wearing sweatpants, light gray, and he had a big wet pee stain on the front.  There is no way he could see the pee stain, his belly was HUGE.  And he made no attempt to shield himself.  Obviously none of his "friends" said, "hey Jack (or whatever his name was), you know you pissed yourself?"  The snarky part of me said that I should take a picture of his stained crotch and the sad part of me didn't do it.  Because it was sad.  Either his friends didn't care enough about him to tell him he peed on himself (or leaked when he peed into a toilet) or he didn't care enough about himself to cover his pee stain when walking across the restaurant.
How does this happen? How does an adult human being who is obviously mentally competent walk around with urine on his pants?  Do his friends think so little of him as a fat person that he's not worthy of telling?  Or does he hate himself so much for being fat that he just doesn't give a shit anymore?  (Thankfully, he had not given a shit in his pants--the back of his sweats weren't stained.)
I'm sure there are all kinds of logistics involved with using a penis and having a giant floppy belly.  I don't care to know--I have my own female logistics to worry about and my belly is much smaller than his.  Still, if you have a problem with peeing standing up, SIT DOWN.  You're in a stall, no one cares that you're only peeing.  If you can't see it or reach it due to the belly, SIT DOWN.  I am imagining all kinds of awfulness on how exactly the pee stain got there.  The one thing I don't believe is that he just pissed in his pants--the stain wasn't that big.  And it's not like a guy has to wipe afterward--although maybe this guy SHOULD.
If the guy had been in Wal-mart and covering himself while standing in line to buy new pants, that would be something different.  But he was walking around in a restaurant with his pee-shame on display.
Please, to all the gods, let my friends love me enough that they wouldn't allow me to walk around pee-stained in public or with any part of my body hanging out of my clothes that shouldn't be on display.

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.
more Rosie news at

Saturday, January 07, 2012

Facebook changes may erase Rosie

One of my friends has a Facebook account that isn't linked to a cell phone number. FB has frozen that account until she either provides a cell phone number (she hasn't got one) or correctly and quickly IDs a series of random photos (including pets, babies, and cartoon characters) as belonging to specific friends.  Since most of Rosie's FB friends are strangers, there is no way I'll be able to pass the photo test and although I have a cell phone, it's attached to my real-name account (one account per cell phone).  So I expect someday (not anytime soon) that I'll be locked out too.
Therefore, I've created a Facebook Fan Page.  Anyone can like it who has a FB account.  I won't see your personal stuff.  I'll be posting weight loss information on there and links when I put up a new posting.  It's administered under a different FB account as well as Rosie's so I'm hoping freezing one won't freeze the other.
EVEN IF YOU ARE ALREADY MY FACEBOOK FRIEND, PLEASE BECOME MY FAN.  I am going to do my best not to duplicate information across the two--in the beginning, it might.  If the day comes when I am locked out, I won't be able to tell anyone.  My account will be completely inaccessible.
Obviously I'm hoping it will never happen, or not anytime soon, but I have no idea why my friend was singled out.  It may be that as part of the stupid Timeline roll-out they are targeting all accounts without mobile numbers.  I volunteered for the Timeline (stupid, annoying, pointless) so maybe I'll get skipped.

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.

Monday, January 02, 2012

back boobs strike again

I just don't understand how these people leave the house without looking in the mirror. A baggier shirt. Pants that fit better. Not difficult to get. It looks like her head's on backward. (Source)

If you are reading this ANYWHERE but on, it's stolen; please let me know. wholelottarosieyoung at yahoo dot com. Thank you.