Day 40 - New 'Do' and Twigs

I just got back from the salon for my quarterly cut. I seem to get my hair cut every four or so months. I don't make regular appointments, but head to the salon when my hair tells me it would like a trim. I had a lot of dead ends, uneven bangs and my hair was getting to be too much to handle! My stylist Jillian did a fabulous job, like always, and added layers, trimmed up the ends (took off 1") and  helped blend in my butchered bangs (my error, I thought I wanted bangs awhile back and they've never grown out properly).

New layers, length and shine.

Tomorrow is my sixth week post-operative appointment. If everything goes well I will leave tomorrow's appointment with news that I only have to wear my rubber bands at night. This will be a good-case scenario. An excellent-case scenario would be that I don't have to wear my bands at all anymore.  I actually have grown accustomed to wearing them and my jaw feels more secure, like a finely wrapped Christmas present that's all dolled up and ready to be delivered. I'm mechanically put together with screws on each side of my jaw, that hopefully will never fall out and will naturally be covered by the tissue in my mouth. Whatever the doc decides is fine with me. See how easy-going I've become? He's smart and I put my faith in him to not mess up my whole facial construction and he did not let me down there. He's good. 

I'm now eating the most in six weeks. When I have my bands off I set the clock and try to cram as much food in me as I can in that period of time. Oh gosh that isn't true; I would feel sick if I did that. It's close though, but it's more like this. I've been eating whatever everyone else is having for dinner with a nominal amount of liquid. The consistency no longer must be extreme in regards to liquidness. It now can be rather thick, just as long as when I pick up my glass the liquid will eventually pour out into my mouth. I've been having about four scoops of ice-cream each day. It's all air I'm telling you and it's very disappointing when I walk away to let it melt and come back to find a sad, quarter filled glass of melted ice cream. I sometimes add a little chocolate or regular milk to compensate for this air phenomenon and to make myself believe I'm really drinking a whole fattening glass of ice cream. 

Mom told me yesterday that if she didn't know me she would think I was very sick because of my weight loss. This is a little bit exaggerated because I've only lost nine pounds in the past six weeks and if you recall I was determined to stick to my goal of not weighing less than 100 pounds after surgery (or ever in my lifetime). People weighing less than 100 are children, those creepily-skinny-smoker type people, and then of course people with extreme sickness. Don't worry, my weight will bounce back once I'm eating food that my blender hasn't modified. I must say that my legs look twig-like and although I may be on the skinny-side, prior to surgery I've always had chunky limbs. Today I flaunted my twigs as I know they will not last and went to the salon to get my hair done. Dad commented that my new 'do' was getting me a lot of doors being held open. The new 'do' was a fine accomplice but I think the twigs had something to do with it too. 

These twigs look good and they may, key word 'may' have enticed me to tone up these twigs once I start eating regular and maintain a healthy body physique.  But what fun is that? Exercise + me just does not mix. I try to run on the treadmill but I just get bored, out of breath or I find something more exciting to do like eat a big juicy cheeseburger. Skinny people should exercise too because heart conditions and health problems can effect anyone but what motivation is available for us twigs? Non-exericising twigs are constantly being told throughout life how skinny they are and what is their response? Oh why thank you I eat burgers and fries until they come out my ears but I'm sorry you can't do that too because you're a plus size supermodel and those things would kill you. Everyone tells us how skinny we are but can we tell you how fat you are? Oh gosh no that would be terribly rude. Both scenarios have it hard. Eating a fry and gaining ten pounds must be irritating, but eating a whole box of fries and a burger and not gaining a pound is also irritating. Or eating all the before-mentioned items and not gaining any new weight but stockpiling the lard into those thunder-thighs is a real burden too. Everyone has got a bone to throw and it's fine as long as it's not a chicken bone or if it is make sure to devour all that meat on the bone first. ;)