Surgiversary 14 December 27, 2024

 It’s here! Surgiversary FOURTEEN. This blog was started 14 years ago when I tired of answering the same questions over and over and then over again. This is a check in with info and numbers. There is no fun, crazy weird stories today. Just the info to keep me accountable and forthcoming as that’s how this blog started. So much has changed in those 14 years in the world of bariatrics but many things are the same. 

The taste of protein has definitely changed. I think I have PTSD from those early days of stringy, gross Isopure protein drinks. People have played around and developed so many good recipes that I would have never thought I would be entertaining a smoothie with that stuff. If you are looking for an excellent quick one, try this: Premiere vanilla, one tbsp cheesecake pudding (they say sugar free lol I don’t) and 1/2 c frozen blueberries……DELICIOUS!!!

I am what my bariatric nurse friend calls a success story. I don’t feel very successful most days. But as of late I’m feeling great. Here are the stats as I look back over the 14 years. My highest weight was 214#. Yes my 5’3” self was over 200#. There are pictures here to prove it and it wasn’t pretty for sure. My goal was to be able to play in the floor with my grandchildren and I’ve been able to do that until the last few years when the bones have decided they weren’t going to cooperate. My personal goal was to be in a single digit size. I made it past that to a 00 in American Eagle jeans and got down to 108#.  I quickly bounced back and I stayed in that single digit until 2 years ago. The first pair of size 10 jeans I bought I told myself it was a comfort thing for the motorcycle, and it was, until it wasn’t. 

I absolutely have not one problem with being in a size 10 as long as I feel comfortable within my own skin. I was fine. I was rocking those 10s and even have some cute Crown and Ivy stuff that I adore. Then, I looked at my face and I could see I was addicted once again to something that I could not control. SWEET TEA! Coca Cola had me 14 years ago and now the sugar monster had me again. I knew it was only a matter or time. I spoke with my doc and off the tea I came. My A1C was creeping back up so it wasn’t just about the weight. I had been sitting between 148-154# for the last three years. I never wanted to be over 150# but it has always been a numbers game with me. My brain is wired with numbers being more important than anything. It is not anything I can fix so I just go with it. I could look like the most beautiful woman in the world, with the healthiest of lab work, and be on the front page of a fitness magazine but if the number on the scale doesn’t satisfy me then my world is upside down. Being in my brain is exhausting but everyone knows that already. Finally the 153# and the A1C number got me. 

August began another shot at losing. I dropped the sweet tea cold turkey and with the new knee starting working out more regularly. I set a goal to be 125# by my birthday. The first ten fell off. My body knew what it needed to do. I’ve had nothing to drink with the exception of water until the stomach bug hit last week. I’ve had two Sprite with one being last night. 

That stomach bug was an absolute nightmare and it dropped me past my goal for myself. I was perfectly content to be at 127# even though it wasn’t reaching the goal but 5# was lost that weekend alone. I do not ever recommend anyone try that. Well, maybe one or two people deserve it but I digress. I actually saw 122# on the scale and looked in the mirror. TOO MUCH! Anorexic I’m not, but again being 5’3”  means a little goes a long way. I dropped to a size 4 knowing that it is too small, but I’m going to try and rock that for a little bit. So, if you see me…. I know! You don’t have to say anything. I’m clocking in at 124# yesterday so it’s ok. 

So, stats at the fourteen year mark   Highest weight 214#, lowest weight 108#    Maintained 135-140# for several years then up to 148-154# for last four   Current weight 124# with goal weight to stay 125-130# and a size 6-8. Now, I have to work on my peach. I’ve slacked in the workout area since Thanksgiving so when that begins again next week I know those scales will start to trend back up. I need the peach popping and the mommy jelly belly to go away. Maybe the next update will include a photo on fitness mag! BAHAHAHA we all know better! I’m crazy but I ain’t that. 

There you have it. The more than you ever wanted to know but keep Tammie accountable yearly check in. Keep a watch, you never know what kind of BS I might come out with next. I’m sure there is a tale in the making here and I always like to share a laugh or two. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my readers and naysayers :) I love you all!

Happy 14th Surgiversary December 27th!!!!!

 HOME

Been thinking today about home. There are many different meanings to the word “home”. The old saying “home is where the heart is”, in the Book of Ruth she talks about “where you lodge I will lodge” these things could be home. To some home is a house. I was musing to myself about these things and began to think about all the places I’ve called home over the years. 

Since selling mom and dad’s house I’ve missed going “home”. Marshall Drive was home even though I’ve made my own home elsewhere. I was the only child that was born in Dalton, therefore the only one that truly knew no other place where mom and dad existed. Sixty two years they lived there. Sixty two Christmases. While they were in the assisted living then the nursing home we still made sure they made it home for the holidays. The last Christmas was not to be for mom as she wasn’t able. She passed in January but we were all there with her in December. Home came to her. 

I think of that house and how so many friends passed through those doors. Some of those friends like Brian and Annie it could be daily they came through. Of course, I was the same at their house too. I remember Fran and Melanie being a staple for those first years and even that last Christmas there was Melanie just as always. The comfort of friends is a bond like no other. While the blood might not be biological the blood sister bond is still a commitment we evidently took seriously. 

When moving away from home it seems a good choice to find a place that has a touch of home so you can wet your feet in the world with a little safety. I found this in my sister’s living room. Belvedere, SC was the first stop in the home away from home journey. I know I didn’t stay long there but it was long enough to have some fun and bonding time with my nephew. He always wanted to know if I was in my “partment”. It wasn’t long before I needed the freedom to find my way and that step included my first “real” apartment. 

That was where I learned how to cook on a grill, learn that palmetto bugs are not roaches (I still think they are), learned what pot smells like since the neighbors loved that stuff and I learned I didn’t like Washington Road living during Masters week. I learned that South Carolina Highway Patrolmen would rather I be in South Carolina where they could stop by and see me ;) 

Next stop, back to Belvedere and the most fun apartment ever. The revolving door of friends began. My first Christmas tree and where I truly learned I could do it all. I bought a little red car and burned those streets up much to the chagrin of one said highway patrolman that liked to pull me over. To this day I think he would still believe I was a speed demon. Right Robbie? Here I learned that people really do throw pasta against the wall to see if it is ready. I learned there is such a thing as reversed prejudice. I learned med students aren’t always the smartest, and I learned home sickness is a real and true thing. No amount of love from a sister or boyfriend can keep you from your mama when you are that sick. 

Home……ahhhhh Marshall Drive but the lesson learned there this time is two women who have had their own home have a hard time living together. The little kitchen there just became a cracker box size and poor Daddy just had to hold on. Apartment hunting became a priority. 

Townhome in Dalton while driving to Children’s Hospital in Chattanooga was the move of choice. I finally got to bring my cat home with me here. My boy settled right in and was happy I wasn’t leaving him and staying gone any more. My daddy left cinnamon hearts and notes on my stairs. I never had an issue that wasn’t handled because Daddy was right around the corner, then came a man. The townhouse showed me my first washer and dryer purchase which until 3 years ago I still had! Thirty five years, one set of dog agits and one belt later it was finally time to move up. Yes, I am the one that replaced those parts. That townhouse didn’t feel like home but a stepping stone. The stairs there saw many, many tears as my heart got shattered many times. That poor cat was drowned by those tears but he stayed right with me. Those tears included many red flags and lessons I should have learned but for some reason this place was where I learned to ignore the obvious. 

I bought my first house in East Ridge. I never thought as a single woman I would ever be able to purchase a home but I did. Marriage and children followed in what I call “the little house”. That little house held us for 15 years. It was home. I refinished the hardwoods by hand on my knees through a divorce. I raised my babies alone there. The sound of them running across the floor heater in the middle of the night to get to me is a sound I will always remember. I helped build a deck and had some great parties in that little house. I had the best neighbors a girl could ask for and learned that we all can have different ideas and lifestyles and still love hard and strong. Life long friendships were made in that little house. My children learned about sacrifice. They learned how to be strong in the face of heartache. I learned I was stronger than I ever thought possible and I could do anything I put my mind to if I just didn’t give up. It was while living in this house that I heard my daddy say “I love you” for the first time. 

Georgia schools were where my children really needed to be and East Ridge was a place we needed to put in our rear view mirror. Ringgold had “the big house”. This house was twice the size of the little house and I felt like I was home the minute I walked in. I was now closer to mom and dad. I could get to them in the same time it took me to get to work. The middle was the perfect place. Mom had grown up in Catoosa County and it immediately felt as we belonged. The kids didn’t miss a beat and made friends quickly and easily. Hunter found his funny side and Taylor found her first tribe. Love bloomed and bombed but the three musketeers were a force against the world. I learned how fiercely a mother could love. I learned patience was not a virtue that I owned. I lost myself in this house but just before I moved I found me again. Seventeen years is a long time to become a hermit within yourself. Hiding in plain sight is sometimes the best place to hide but a very lonely place. I learned that being an empty nester isn’t all bad when you see how successful your children are becoming. 

Plans change as quickly as an election and sometimes we have to drop back and punt. Moving back home wasn’t a choice I wanted to make but I knew it was the right decision. I would never give a single second back of being back at home because I was closer to mom and dad. I could be there in less than five minutes and sometimes I needed to be. I lost my grand pup in this house and forever miss her and Lexi. I learned to be the daughter I was raised to be by taking care of my parents. I spent time with them that I otherwise would not have had the time to spend. I had quit my second job and freed up time. It was the first time alone in 30 years. No spouse, no children, no animals. I was my only responsibility. Who knew that was going to be this hard?! I learned that sixty two years of stuff isn’t needed stuff. I learned that if you have photos of people you need to ALWAYS write on the back. I learned that even if it is a trinket you’ve always known you don’t have to keep it because you can always keep the memory.

After mom passed it was time to move along and vacate the premises. I longed to be back in Catoosa. I miss Ringgold. I miss what I had there. I miss my house. I miss portions of my old life. But alas, the election debacle was still rearing its ugly head and not a good time to buy anything. I did however, stay in Georgia. Walker county is definitely not a place someone moves that wants to save any money. The taxes and water alone will put a person in the poor house quickly. I feel this house is also a stepping stone. I don’t know where I will be stepping next but for now I am open for many lessons. I have made many new friends although for the first time very few of them are in my neighborhood. Neighbors aren’t like we used to be. It is that or now that I’m the old lady with no children it changes people’s perspective. Whatever the lessons are that I am to learn from this homestead I am open. Being open has been in the conversations lately. Be open to adventure. Be open to new experiences. Be open to meeting new people and be open to different people that you ordinarily wouldn’t hang with. 

Home may be where the heart is for some. Home for me has been about learning and growing. Each home has held a special place in my heart with many fantastic memories. When I close my eyes and see each home, I see it filled with people I love. Some may have been for a season or just during that home time. Others have become forever friends that have gone from home to home with me. When you think of home what is it to you? If you are lucky you have the potential of sixty two years in one place. For those of us who move and grow we may not have the luxury of time spent in one place but whilst we are in that place we make the most of it. 

I’m Miss Congeniality 1982

      Was just re reading my previous blog and giggling to myself. The theme of new friends and squirrels continues through the summer.

      I went camping this weekend with some friends meeting even MORE people and I laughed and giggled so much I am home with a sore throat. I was an hour and a half away when I realized I had left my cooler….not an end all thing and I would have just left it for next time but my hearing aids were in the top of it. I had placed them there to keep them from getting too hot in the car. I had gotten the number of a new friend and guess who was still at the campground!? She and her husband were so great. I started back toward them and they started home which was close to my direction of travel. I got my cooler and one more hug. 

     The running joke this weekend was “I’m Miss Congeniality 1982!” It was one of those continuing things that always elicited a pose and walk toward the judges. I’ve been remembering the fun times of the past that I had packed away and shared some funny, crazy things that have encompassed me life. 

     Another one of those “had to be there moments” began when i got the giggles. Those of you who have been around when those begin know that there is no way to stop them and they do get worse before it gets better. They are infectious and eventually hurt my chest. Imagine someone trying to get your attention to face them, knowing you will never hear them if you don’t. I’m already getting “the look” like “we’ve been calling your name forever”. I always meet this with the confused look which started the giggles. Now imagine, 8 folks looking at you with that look, me with the giggles, a few of them intoxicated and me seeing them holding squirrels. This added to the 4 in my head riding tricycles, 7 of them shooting fireworks and 2 wearing cat ears and they want me to pay attention???!!! Really?? Anyone else’s squirrels have that much fun?

     Now, granted, I’ve been pretty put out feeling like I’m not healing fast enough. Logically, I know I am on point but I’m not a logical person when it comes to the things limit me. I was going along like gangbusters it seemed but then it seems like it went to a snail’s pace. Tomorrow is my last scheduled PT and I am no where near a place I feel like I should stop going. I need those cheerleaders. I need those pushes. I need the encouragement. 

     To take the time out of my healing schedule to go on the bike with Ryan and then camping with my friends really helped the rehab blues. I had the best visit with my massage therapist today who encouraged me in so many ways. I have so many people in my corner. I feel so blessed to know them all. 

     While we all trip up sometimes and I am no exception, it is important to keep on going. Sunday, I made a blanket statement about “straighten my crown” and walking on. Those are the things we all should do. When something doesn’t go as planned, or someone says something that just hits wrong we all should square up our shoulders, straighten that crown and know that Miss Congeniality 1982 said in her blog to walk on with head held high. 

 

 You Can’t Make Old Friends…..but new ones can bring joy.

I’ve gone on and on about how wonderful my circle of friends are many times. I know I’ve said it so many times many of you are sick of hearing it or, admit it, you’re jealous. My facebook is full of little friend snippets.

I was wearing my SURVIVOR shirt last week when riding the motorcycle. It was from a women’s conference where one of the speaker’s had a book there called Beyond Betrayal. It was about friendship betrayal and it resonated so loudly for me. When Ryan asked me what I had survived I told him “friend betrayal” and I was on the other side of that nonsense thank goodness.

One week later what happens? I’m hanging at the pool with some “newer” (less than 5 years) friends this weekend and I receive a text from the betrayer!!!!! I haven’t heard from her but one time in the last year!! Imagine my shock. From this friend, I learned more about addiction than I ever wanted to know. I learned more about heartache than anyone should have to learn. I learned that it doesn’t matter how much you will someone to be better and do better it just won’t happen because YOU want it. They have to want to do better and be better. Words mean so little when the actions behind them speak louder. 

The words that were spewed at me over the years tore at my heart but were always followed by an apology or explanation of  the “disease”. Remember the sticks and stones rhyme? I found where my mom had written about sticks and stones…. To paraphrase  “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will suck the life right from me and the joy from my heart. Please break my bones” How this changed my outlook when I found it. Mom “got it”. If anything I’ve learned from the words that have been hurled at me over the last 20 years it has been this “says more about you than it does about me”. This became my motto.

Your words may hurt me, but quickly I realize hurt people, hurt people. It is about them, not me. When someone intentionally is trying to hurt me, I have learned I can write them off and never look back. It has taken almost 15 years but yesterday, I finally was able to wipe that slate clean of that last little bit of hurt that I was holding. When the flag of true colors flew high one more time, I took a deep breath, looked at the pool where I was sitting, I listened to the voices of my friends that had impressed my weekend and realized, I may not be able to make OLD friends but I can make new ones with the potential of longevity. 

I will admit I flashed PISSED! I was hurt, mad, and looking for a smart ass answer. But as soon as it flashed, a calmness took over and a rational “I’m not allowing this” attitude took over. I responded appropriately, put my phone down and continued with my wonderful weekend in the sun. 

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers’ “You can’t Make Old Friends” comes on while riding the motorcycle and I will inevitably pat Ryan or he pats me and I just harmonizes to the tops of my lungs. It means so much to me that he is one of those old friends. I have made so many new friends through him and the motorcycle. I have friends like Melanie Millican Chapman that I have had since I was 2 years old. She is never farther than a text or phone call away and I for her. If you know me, you know my BFF is my ride or die and my second appendage. We go a pretty good way back….25 years Kim?? I adore my old friends. I can NEVER and would never WANT to try and replace my old friends. But, watch out world…new things are coming….these times they are a changin’. 

Even though my hearing impairment has closed my world A LOT, I learned this weekend there ARE people willing to get to know me for me. People willing to take the time and turn to speak where I can see and read their lips. Not only were friends of friends on motorcycles learning me now there are others! Slowly, I may try to open my world back up. It had been a sad and lonely existence at times, when the hearing world started shutting me out. I realize it started within my own home. The person in my home wasn’t accommodating. I began to think others would be the same. I started seeing the world with glasses that were smudged. I took those sticks and stones to heart. I believed what I was feeling from the words spoken or the lack thereof. I was believing in those actions that were shown and thinking the whole world was going to be like this. I’ve been hearing impaired the last 25 years. Why has it taken this long? 

My last blog seemed to be along these lines. I believed all this “enlightenment” was supposed to have happened in my 40s. Guess I’ve been a little busy instead of being cultured…..ok…I’m not yogurt. Did yall see that squirrel?