Finally, I went. I’m going to have to stay hyper vigilant to keep things moving, though. I know this from experience.

And, I lost another pound. I was hoping for more than a pound, having been backed up for so long, but it is what it is. Better than nothing. No loss would’ve really bummed me out.

I’m not sure how many calories I’m supposed to be getting everyday. As far as I can tell, they don’t give you a guideline for calories, unless I missed it somewhere in the handbook. I could ask Lindsey (my nutritionist).

Anyway, I wonder if I’m eating too much. I get very close to 1,000 calories most days. Before my surgery, 1,800 calories was an average day for me. So that’s a pretty significant decrease.

I do notice I have much less of a capacity to overeat, now. I am full after half a cup of food per meal. Sometimes even before I’m all the way finished. Water makes me feel full, too. I can’t gulp it down like I used to, either. I can only sip, or I burp it back up. So even if I’m ravenously thirsty, I can’t take big swigs.

Decaf coffee is allowed at this stage, but my creamer isn’t. Even if it was, I don’t think I have the budget for it, anymore. As yet I have not found an even close to adequate replacement for my morning (and afternoon…and sometimes mid morning…and sometimes whenever) coffee. So that’s a little bit sad, but at the same time, I know I’m making better choices overall.

I won’t go back to Diet Pepsi because of what a fellow WW member told me: that one diet soda a day can cause you to gain 40 pounds in a year. Even though I still miss it.

Actually, what I really, really miss the most is regular Coke. It is probably my all time favorite beverage. Because of my weight, I haven’t been able to drink it in decades.

Funny thing, though, I drank gallons of it when I was a skinny girl, and never gained a pound from it then. I must’ve been just active enough to balance it out.

Yeah, must’ve been.

In high school, I did rigorous dance three days a week. But in college? Well, we walked everywhere, that’s the only thing I can think. I mean, I worked out when I felt like it, but I feel like it was sporadic at best.

People used to say I was too skinny. I probably was. But my mother put such pressure on me to stay a very specific size, so I thought skinny=good, and too skinny=even better. It didn’t even matter that I had no boobs!

At least when I have a little meat on my bones, I have a little bit there, too. Not a lot, I grant you. Just more than nothing.

I have a college ID somewhere that was taken junior year where I was so skinny I looked like a drug addict. I was gaunt. Sallow cheeks, huge eyes. I couldn’t have been more than 100 pounds. I looked terrible.

That summer I remember someone at work had indicated I looked bad and I was so upset I threw a pencil straight at his head. But he was right. I did look bad. I looked sick.

I almost think I look better now:

I’ll get there.

What “there” looks like, I’m really not sure. I just hope it’s something I can be happy with for the remainder of my life.