My weightloss has sped up. I’ve gone from 3 or 4 pounds a week to 5 or 6 pounds a week. I’m now 22 stone 3 pounds and I’m one pound shy of having lost six stone. In two months.
I’m now lighter than I was when I started this blog 7 and a half years ago. In fact, I’m 10 pounds lighter than I was then. Little did I think when I started this weightloss blog that I’d still be writing it in 2018 having gained almost six stone and lost it again and be on the brink of finally losing enough to actually be a healthy weight within the next year.
And the weightloss is finally beginning to show. Like, it was always showing, but it’s really, really showing now. On Thursday, I met a woman who I’d only ever once before met, back in August. We have absolutely no relationship and yet she noticed. That’s the kind of weight I’ve lost.
I’ve lost so much weight now, that I’ve gone down a shoe size. That’s right. Even my feet have lost weight. I’m turning into a delicate Tinkerbell-like creature with dainty feet.
(I mean, I’m still morbidly obese, but I’m getting there.)
I bought new shoes for my new feet. While I was there I bought my first ever Christmas jumper. In M&S. Like a normal person would. I’m still not small enough to buy trousers in high street shops, but I’m not that far off it. I can definitely buy shirts and jumpers in normal shops again. And it was a joyous shopping trip. Being able to try on shoes without getting breathless and trying on Christmas jumpers that actually fit me made me very emotional.
I’ve found my appetite has decreased even more recently and so I’m eating even less than I was three weeks ago (I didn’t think that was possible) and so I’m resorting to having things like orange juice to up my calories so I don’t end up malnourished. (Imagine that being something that Connor O’Donoghue had to worry about – not getting enough calories. Oh Brave New World…)
Speaking of orange juice, it serves another purpose. Keeping me hydrated. I’m not doing a good job of this at all. I have always been bad at it. I don’t particularly like water and I don’t drink tea or coffee and before my operation I was entirely dependent on having two to four bottles of Coke Zero a day to keep me hydrated and caffeinated. I’ve finally got that out of my life and I don’t want to go back but somehow I’ve got to start getting liquids in. I’m drinking way too little. It doesn’t help that I have to sip because my new tiny stomach makes gulping hard and I’ve been having a worrying symptom.
Warning: OK. If you don’t want to read some TMI/NSFWish information, this is the point where you can stop reading the post. Rest assured I’m happy and almost certainly healthy and stop reading here. You have been warned.
Three times recently, for two or three days at a time, I’ve been pissing blood. It’s been gross but not particularly painful. I hoped and prayed it had nothing to do with my surgery. I have a feeling that lots of people think the surgery was a bad decision (though everyone has been very supportive), even though I feel as if it’s in the top five things I’ve ever done, and they’re just waiting for it to turn out to have been a mistake.
Anyway, I went to see a GP on Friday morning. Ladies and gentlemen, he was a very young and very handsome GP. Very handsome.
I told him about my symptoms and my operation. He said he couldn’t see how they’d be connected and that was a big relief. The operation was still a good idea. Phew!
He gave me a tube and sent me to pee a sample out for him. Of course I couldn’t. I only ever pee twice a day and I always get pee-shy when doctors ask for a sample.
It’s probably an infection of some sort that is reoccurring partly because I’m not well enough hydrated to flush it out. He sent me home with two tubes to fill with pee and I have to go for blood tests too. If I can’t manage to pee and bring in the samples immediately, then I’m to put my pee in my fridge. Gross.
He also examined me. Oh my word. I know visiting a doctor isn’t supposed to be sexual, but he was a very handsome doctor and he was touching my penis and asking me lots of questions about it. I gasped as he pulled it slightly to get a proper look. He asked if he was hurting me. I said “No”. I think it’s only good manners to gasp when a handsome man touches your penis. He was amazed, like other doctors before, at the tightness of my foreskin. I’m the tightest he’s seen. (Lol) That could be part of the problem. As with other doctors, he recommends a circumcision. Just you wait for my bris/bar mitzvah! It’ll be the party of the season.
Anyway, I floated in to work that day. It was such a fulfilling visit. It’s so rare to have a doctor actually listen to you. And I was delighted that the operation wasn’t at fault. And having a handsome man touch my penis was wonderful. I think that’s what I want out of a relationship. Penetration is so overrated, but a nice man who listens to you and gently feels your willy is wonderful. Work was really tough on Friday but I floated through it on the afterglow of my imaginary romance with the handsome doctor. Such a lovely visit.