19 days of Optifast down and I am sitting here 6.7kg lighter.
I faced this challenge as I face any other, I turned to Dr Google, to see how others felt about their Optifast. Man people can moan. I came across a lot of blogs about how awful it was, disgusting, vile, almost unbearable! I was terrified. I wondered what I had signed up for.
Thankfully, much like the brain tumors that I have often self diagnosed, Dr Google was actually a bit dramatic and actually quite wrong. Optifast was more than palatable and I have barely struggled at all. Aside from the morning tea and subway shouts in the staff room, I have rarely felt sorry for myself or the food that I was unable to enjoy. I was, a few times, reminded of a saying that my mother is fond of, “Food doesn’t taste as good as skinny feels.” I still think that this is a crock of shit, but I needed to find ways to keep myself honest. I sit on 800 calories a day and, although I am fine now, for the first few days I was pretty hungry.
MyFitnessPal has been a lifesaver. Having to account for everything that I put in my mouth has stopped me from making any drastic decisions that could have thrown me off the proverbial wagon. But googling blogs was also super helpful….in a crazy kind of way. Any time I wanted to cheat I would look for bloggers who had talked about cheating and then learn from their mistakes. Or actually if I am honest, I would tell myself that I was better than those cheaters and I would push through my cravings. I am proud to say that I did not cheat. Not even once.
I bought a treadmill, and we lugged it up the stairs to my bedroom. I am so excited about this as I needed a place to hang clothes at the end of the day…only kidding. I have used it multiple times now and am so pleased with my purchase. I particularly love the fact that my Fitbit syncs with MyFitnessPal and it adds calories to my daily quota. I don’t eat these calories, but again, it makes me feel like I am somehow beating my own personal score. I am quite competitive, obviously.
So now comes the weekend, the last hurdle, the final countdown (did you sing it too?). On Monday Mum and I are flying to Auckland and on Tuesday I go under the knife. I have heard horror stories and successes but no one knows which mine will be. I know to stay away from alcohol, as my Dr told me of a patient that formed ulcerations due to his continual consumption of liquor. I know to make sure that they give me anti nausea medication, from my best friend’s mum and her tale of being so sick, and therefore so dehydrated, that the sides of her stomach stuck together. I know to take it easy, when introducing foods to my new stomach, from a success patient who told me that some foods will come straight out without much warning. From either end.
So I am heading for a mix of the known and the unknown, but I go forth in anticipation and not trepidation. I anticipate winning the war I have with my brain and/over my body. I anticipate feeling less pain and more energy. I anticipate having less boob luggage, although I am not looking forward to them turning into used teabag titties. If I win lotto I will get an augmentation, but until then I will roll them up into my much smaller bra and be proud of them and myself.
So world, watch this space!