Fat Frog Diary

 I’m not sure how I feel about some of the analyses and predictions coming in, anticipating the first six months of the new administration. At one point, I might have said that these predictions were the insane ravings of a lunatic mind that had smoked too much weed and chased it down with rotgut. Now I’m not so sure. Here’s why some are possible, and some are not. You will note I put in links to information on certain subjects for further review by those who were not informed of these developments. 1.       The president-elect is a very lazy man. He doesn’t want to read briefs every morning when he shows up in the office. He wants the absolute minimum spoon fed to him with just enough data for him to make a snap judgement so he can hurry off to his golf game or rage tweet over his KFC 2pc and a biscuit meal. This was a habit of his from his last time in office, and I see no reason to think he has changed his ways, since he golfed often even while running...

  This rant is specifically for non-writers, especially those who “have a story” they’d love another author to write. Don’t think that applies to you? Okay. Let’s make sure. Here’s the scenario: Author, taking a day off, indulges in a social situation. Friends and family are chattering and swirling about, mixed in with a few folks not well known to the author. For many authors this is a stressful situation. Introverts don’t do well in large groups. It sucks at their energy like leeches, often leaving them drained for days. The author is seriously considering the politest means of escape. New Person is introduced to Author with starry eyes and bouncing with energy. During the conversation, it’s clear that the New Person has never read one of the author’s books, and perhaps has never even read one from the author’s chosen genre of books. But their eyes shine, and their enthusiasm continues to rise. The Author knows what’s coming and sighs inwardly. “Here we go again.” Sure enough...

Let me state up front that I'm well aware I'm different. I have a work from home job in the medical industry and I'm a born introvert. I'm buried in work all day, then loving the Zoom meetings on certain nights of the week that fulfill what little craving I have for social interaction. I have always preferred to shop online and --when I indulge at all-- carry out or delivery of a meal is fine by me. I know there are a lot of people without a job, struggling to put food on the table, unable to leave the house to even search for work. The gig economy and the service industry are struggling and dying. There's no one leaving the house to go to a show, have a meal out, or even meet with friends for drinks. The entertainers, bartenders, wait staff, and even the zoo staff have no one to entertain. You don't realize how much of the economy depends on the service industry until it isn't there. The only ones left working are fast food/carry-out restaurant workers an...

Okay, here's the official report of why I ended up incommunicado and incarcerated in a hospital all weekend, starting January 28, 2011. (Warning-- foul language and aspersions cast upon the wisdom of several professions.) After Randy's death, I'd been feeling very down and considered myself very unlucky. I think most folks can understand my feelings. However, I began to realize the depression was interfering with my work and daily life. So, I made an appointment with my primary care physician's office to reinstate the prescription I'd had previously for Wellbutrin. It had worked well before, so I was confident that would be all I needed to even out the peaks and valleys of my mood swings. My appointment was for late Friday morning. Dante and I went with the idea of having a bit of lunch and taking care of a few errands while we were out. As usual with my PCP, I had to see her PA (physician's assistant). No big deal. I had a short list of problems to...

Well, I found a few. I definitely found, bought, and tried the Almond Milk. Fiona Jayde was absolutely right. This stuff is great! I am shocked and thrilled to report that ONE CUP is only 40 calories and 2 carbs. Needless to say, my little creamer pitcher is full so I can have as much coffee as I desire this morning without guilt or a red face. It doesn't really whiten my coffee's color, but it still mellows the flavor. Since I can't judge by color, measuring becomes more important than ever. That alone is ironic, since I have a whole cup to use. DD and I had already tried Soy Milk, and were pleased with it. However, the carb and calorie count were less than thrilling.at 100 calories and 11 carbs for a cup. Susan really loves the vanilla, so she's willing to "pay" for the carbs. I'm not. I'd also been less than thrilled to discover that all my favorite artificial sweeteners were less than good for me. (sigh) I've always believed in "bett...

This girl is telling it like it is!! I refuse to reinvent the wheel. Wendy Tippens tells you the truth about banding. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKfp7aovYkM&NR=1

I knew I'd recorded my heaviest weight on a weight tracker, but I couldn't remember where until I stumbled on it today. There it is at the bottom of the chart on the right -- 298 lbs, a little over a year ago now. I've lost 54 pounds since that day, and more comes off when I follow my diet. No one believes me when I tell them I've already lost 54 pounds. Like, nothing counts before your surgery date. A year of struggle is a year of my life, and it darn sure does count. Someday, when I'm in those skinny jeans or daringly wearing a bikini (yeah, at my age!) I want to have the proof I used to weight just shy of 300 pounds because no one will believe me then, either. LOL!

Okay, I admit it. I've been anal. No surprise there, right? I've been stepping on the bathroom scale every morning and sometimes at night. Is it any wonder that I'm not seeing much in the way of results anymore? I keep expecting the same phenomenal weight loss I had when on liquids only, and that's not reasonable. Two pounds a week is reasonable. Ten is not. I also know better than to think I won't step on that scale every morning. I'm paranoid about gaining even one pound now that I can eat solid foods again. The terror strikes every time I put a morsel of food in my mouth. So, I'm changing my subject lines. Instead of counting the days since surgery --which I was losing track of anyways-- I'll note what I weighed that morning. Since I don't blog every day, I'll see the steady downward turn of the pounds. Hopefully, that will stop this unreasoning and needless fear.

Just how much humiliation am I supposed to take? Today was a group session at the surgeon’s. You know what I learned? What an ass one of the surgeons is. That’s it. After the weigh in, in which I gained a whole half-pound, we had the usual and repetitive lecture on how important it is we shrink our livers. I was feeling pretty good about my weight, actually. I’d had a full bladder and heavy winter clothing on, but the scale said only half a pound. I could live with that. I knew also I’d had a few too many macadamia nuts over the past few days and vowed to cut them out. Finally, the surgeon appeared. He was as handsome as rumor had claimed. I had a hard time understanding his accent, since he was from South Africa. The Afrikaners I’ve known can seem to mumble a bit to our American ears. I’d had an Afrikaner teacher back in real estate school and I’d adored him, so I was prepared to like the surgeon, Dr. Cywes. How wrong I was. After introducing himself and matching faces to files, he im...

(sigh) Warning: This is a rant as well as a report on my latest visit to the surgeon. Lately, I began to resent the weeks or months of time I spend jumping through hoops like a circus poodle. ("Arf! Jump through the fiery hoop? Arf! Are you nuts? Arf? Okay, okay! Arf! Arf! Shit! My tail's on fire again!") Today was another doctor visit with the surgeon's office on the other side of town at 10:30 AM. Thank goodness I'd already gone through the hassle of finding out they moved so I had the correct address this time. Yes, I'm still pissed off about them forgetting the new patients' seminar folks. Made me feel oh-so-very-unwanted. Today wasn't much better. I filled out the paperwork in the waiting room. Good name, waiting room, but wasting room would be better. Waste of time is more like it. I did balk at the idea of their using my photos for their website. Yes, I object to that. Gimme a break. If I don't like the way I look so much I'm willing to ...

Okay, I'm gonna bitch a minute about doctors and their seeming inability to communicate with one another. My pulmonist put me on Coumadin, a blood thinner. I was told to never have green vegetables again, and therefore gained forty pounds without my salads, broccoli, and brussels sprouts. Yep, I love my greens. Later, this was modified that I was allowed a salad or maybe a helping of something green on weekends. Is it any wonder I gained forty pounds? Naturally, my PCP (primary care physician) freaked at my annual checkup. My cholesterol was through the roof and I walked the thin line to being a pre-diabetic, not to mention my BMI was now in the "dangerously obese" category. (No shit, honey. Go talk to my pulmonist.) After one year of seeing a dietician, the cholesterol nazi they have in their office putting me on a low-fat and low-cholesterol diet (still no greens), and more sticks with a needle than I care to dream about, I've lost only twenty pounds. Did I mention ...

I stepped on the scale this morning. I've *gained* three pounds despite the three times a week walking, all the gardening, and rearranging three rooms of furniture. It's enough to make me sit down and cry. And they wonder why I want bariatric surgery? Lena

The Plan! You gotta love Robin Williams...Even if he's nuts! Leave it to Robin Williams to come up with the perfect plan. What we need now is for our UN Ambassador to stand up and repeat this message. Robin Williams' plan...(Hard to argue with this logic!) 'I see a lot of people yelling for peace but I have not heard of a plan for peace. So, here's one plan.' 1) 'The US will apologize to the world for our 'interference' in their affairs, past & present. You know, Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Tojo, Noriega, Milosevic, Hussein, and the rest of those ' good 'ole' boys', we will never 'interfere' again. This I can agree with. I don't feel we need to apologize, but the point needs to be made that our "interference" has saved a lot of butts from tyranny. But, hey, if they don't want our help anymore, we can politely apologize and stop interfering. 2) We will withdraw our troops from all over the world, starting with...

...So why am I surprised the medical folks lied again? Why do I keep this wrong-headed belief that there are upstanding and truthful professionals in scrubs somewhere out there? When my PCP's assistant ordered a CAT scan of my belly to ascertain the reason for my intermittent stomach pains, I asked specifically, "Is this the CAT scan where they use a needle?" (Hah! I've been suckered before, haven't I?) I referred to the iodine injection used in conjunction with the barium. The two different persons both threw up their hands in the classic gesture of innocence and said, "Oh, no! This is just the circular array taking pictures of your stomach with barium in it. Here's the berry smoothie flavored barium. Just follow directions." I followed directions and swallowed the barium as ordered. I'll even give the berry flavor a kudo for being much more palatable than the old banana flavored crap they used to sucker you into drinking. At least I didn't ...

Okay, riddle me this Batman -- Why does the insurance industry refuse to cover known and proven diet medication but yet covers the results of obesity like cholesterol treatments, high blood pressure medications, diabetes treatments, etc? Is someone not paying attention? Because it's part of the rules of making sure the bean counters of my insurance company know I *tried* to lose weight, I researched recommended diet medications and asked my doctor about Meridia. That particular drug is known to reduce appetite, increase energy, and was developed for weight loss specifically. My doctor's PA agreed it was a great idea, and wrote me the prescription. I just tried --note the word, tried-- to pick up my new bottle of Meridia at the drugstore. The girl at the window informed me it was ready, but my insurance wouldn't cover the cost. So, the bill was --get this!-- a whopping $120 for one month's supply! That's my entire grocery budget for three adults. Uh...no! I told her...

Okay, this is just a rant. We have a family friend. A very dear family friend we owe a lot, including he’s the guy that introduced DH and I so long ago. That gets him lots of brownie points and privileges. But when do points and privileges exceed the bounds of friendship and even good taste? This friend would be horrified and deny it to the rooftops, but he’s a nag about my weight. Seriously, he can’t have one hour’s conversation with us without mentioning how much better I’d feel if I “just” lost about one hundred pounds or more. For example, yesterday he stopped by to borrow my husband for an hour for some heavy lifting. Before that hour was out, he said this: “When you were young and skinny, you were a hottie. Now I can say this because Randy knows I don’t mean anything by it, but you’d be a hottie again still if you’d just lose that extra hundred pounds or so.” Implication: I’m not young. (No shit, I’m approaching fifty.) but now I’m not a hottie because I’m over 100 pounds over we...