Yes, there is a Santa Claus.....but he is obese and he smokes.....

SAVE SANTA CLAUS!!

We all heard the story. In fact, we know the words by heart. But, have you ever thought about the following verses that appear about 3/4 of the way through the poem......????

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf.........

No wonder Santa has an image problem and is loosing believers. An overweight man who smokes is not exactly an endearing visual. This year, I encourage everyone who reads my blog to send a letter to Santa imploring him to consider revamping his lifestyle. First of all, he needs to stop his legendary all night smoking and cookie binges. His health is at stake here. Diabetes. High blood pressure. High cholesterol. Cancer. To name a few!!! He is hardly a role model for today's youth. Maybe it's just a matter of replacing the cookies with higher protein, leaner snacks. We can definitely help with that by not making it available---stop the cookies and milk routine!!!! But, perhaps it's more than that. He may be like the millions of people.....just like myself.....who are obese and who could be helped by weight loss surgery. He needs to talk to his doctor to find out what is best for him.

Trust me, there's no better way to tell someone you love them and want them to be around for a very long time than to help them become a healthier, happier person. Obesity is a hard and difficult illness. And, it is only getting worse. Statistics are scarey---childhood obesity is on the rise. People are dying needlessly everyday from the effects of obesity. Today, a dear friend shared a story with me about how her sister died from breast cancer because she was so obese that her doctor would not treat her. My own beautiful, beloved mother, a woman who fought obesity all of her life, died at a young age, from trying to win to the battle. It's an epidemic. There are many more stories out there about people who could have benefited from stopping the wicked cycle of obesity but never had the power or the motivation to do it. We see it every day. There are even reality shows based on it. Being obese is not only unhealthy---it's no fun at all. The medical community is working hard to help those of us who suffer from it. But, we can't do it alone. It has to start with awareness. We don't need ridicule or further punishment. We need support and help and encouragement. So, let's start with Santa Claus. It might be the first step to waking up the world to the life altering and life threatening dangers of obesity. Let's face it---no one wants to loose Santa Claus! Who will give us gifts? Let's make every morning as happy as Christmas morning. ...for everyone we love. Send your Santa letters today!!!!

We love you Santa Claus!

Inside my snowglobe.....where dreams come true.....

Christmas shopping at a handful of little stores---oohing and aahing over shoes and boots and sweaters and funky jewelry. Laughing over lunch at one of our fav places. Picking up chai lattes to fuel up for a little more retail therapy at the mall. My daughter and I. It's what my dreams are made of. And, it's come true. Want to hear another? Not having to shop exclusively in "woman's stores". It's happened---I'm allowed in normal stores now. Well, it's not the same kind of dream-come-true as spending the day with my daughter. But, still, it feels nice and makes me smile. Plus, it enhances the whole shopping with my daughter experience. Anyway, it's a surprise dream-come-true since I never knew I had the dream to begin with. I like the fact that my daughter and I can both walk into the same store and both be able to buy something. No, no.....I'm not buying belly shirts and low slung jeans (but, gosh, wouldn't it be just a little bit fun if I could?) at the same places my daughter shops. It's just that I've entered the world of XL and most stores sell XL. But, only women's stores sell XXXL. Anyway, as Toni and I inched closer to Lane Bryant during our lovely mom-daughter shopping day, I could see her happy demeanor fade (she does not like that store)---"want to stop there?" she asked. "Nope" I answered. "Oh....." she uttered, her smile returning. "I'm looking for Christopher and Banks. I wonder if they have one here," I said, thinking about a cute holiday sweater that I saw that might be nice for my office party this coming week. As we walked in, I let out one of those "I've arrived" sighs as I breathed in my surroundings. This was a place where I could only peer in the windows. And, now, there I was---inside. I felt oh so triumphant. Lingering at a display of pretty sweaters, I imagined myself wearing the pretty red Santa one as I did pirouettes around the store. Snow softly fell. Bing Crosby sang "White Christmas". Shoppers, applauded as I gracefully twirled by them in my XL Santa sweater. "Is this your first time in here?" my daughter asked---nudging me out of my snow globe. "Yes, it is."
Dreams are a funny thing. Sometimes you don't know you have them until you find yourself experiencing one of them come true---like my foray into the non-plus size store world. But, I always dreamed of that sweet little moment shared between a mother and a daughter Christmas shopping.....both of them carrying packages and smiling. Many years ago, I was the daughter in that dream. Now, I am the mother. The same dream. And, it's come true. Christmas shopping. Mothers. Daughters. Size XL. I'm blessed.

Decking the Halls.....Judi style......

Christmas decorating at my house is not for wimps. It's a backbreaking, massive undertaking. It takes an entire day to drag everything out of storage. It takes a full weekend to set up the large Christmas tree in the entry way and then it takes about 2 weeks to finish the rest of the house. At the moment, I'm in the final stages. I have to finish the china and crystal cabinets, the bathrooms, the upstairs hallway and the outdoor decorations. Then, I have to clean up. Like I said---not for wimps.
I spent the better part today and tonight decorating. At one point, I found myself so frustrated by the amount of work and the mess I was creating that I yelled out "why can't I be a normal person and just put up a tree and a wreath?" No one was there to answer me. Except for me. And, I already knew the answer. Because I am me.

Here's a peek at ME....

And, my Lapband will help ME be ME for a very long time........
Happy Decorating!

I am a SCALE WHORE........

You heard it here friends. And, the only way to begin my recovery is to tell my story......

I always imagined that on the day that the scale said that I lost 50 pounds, church bells would ring, cannons would go off, fireworks would shoot into the sky, bartenders would buy rounds, dancing would erupt in the streets, choirs would sing, and I.....well.....I would kiss the scale. And, not just a little peck. I'm talking a long, hard kiss. Damn, I figured I'd be kissing that scale for at least 5 minutes! But, that's not exactly what happened. You know how it is---- fantasy life can be so much more exciting and passionate than real life. When the reality of that hits, it can lead us down some very dark and murky paths. That's what happened to me. When I could not get the thrill that I craved from one scale, I went out looking for others that could satisfy me. It was trouble with a capital "T".

You see, after my surgery, I started this ritual of weighing myself on Tuesday mornings. Not sure why I picked that particular day but it worked out at the time so I went with it. Since I didn't want to obsess over the numbers on the scale, I needed a routine to keep me from weighing myself every 12 hours (which I would have done!). Anyway, as time went on, there were a few Tuesdays in a row when I was not too happy with what the scale had to say. My Tuesdays are rough enough without having to deal with scale misery. Soon, I could not bear those Tuesday morning weigh- ins. You see, there's this meeting that I have to go every Tuesday morning. It ain't a pretty meeting. Here, let me try to put it in perspective without giving you the blood draining details---when I leave my office to go to this particular meeting, my teammates wish me good luck, give me a blessing and promise to call 911 if I am not back in 2 hours. So, you can imagine why I would not want to get bad news at the scale and then have to deal with the maze of gauntlets and land mines at that meeting---all within the same 24 hours. So.......I sort of got out of my Tuesday morning weigh-in habit. I became loose----I started weighing myself without a schedule. This past week, as I inched closer and closer to the 50 lb mark, I began to obsess about the number on the scale. So, there I was.....weighing myself at least 2 times a day.....once at home on my fancy digital scale and then once at the gym on their "slider" scale. It felt like those scales were in different "weight zones" (like time zones)! In the morning, I'd be THIS close to 50 lbs gone. At night, not so. Then, the next day I'd be THAT close. At night, nope. Next day---THIS close again. At night---no way! Which scale could I trust?? Maddening. Anyway, late last week when I did my morning weigh in, my fancy digital scale finally said it---50 lbs were gone. Of course, I didn't believe it. That scale could not be trusted. That night when I weighed myself at the gym---my instincts paid off....I had not really lost 50 lbs. This went on for several days. I had no idea when I could finally feel safe saying that I lost 50 lbs. In my mania, I knew I had to find another scale before I could commit. But, that wasn't enough---I had to find another. And, then, another. Yes, I was becoming a scale whore. Hopping off one scale then going in search of another. Then another. And another. Never quenched. Never trusting. I never even looked at their faces. Just their numbers. Sometimes I'd even have a smoke right afterwards. It all started out so innocently----all I ever wanted was for one of them to say the same thing as another one. They never did. Soon, I found myself in the tawdry and seedy scale underworld. This is where scales will say what they think you want to hear just to get you to jump on them. They will lie to you. They will give you false hope. And, they will never respect you. Today, I realized that I don't want to live this way any longer. I need help. And, I also realized that the scale that I have at home is the scale I need to commit to. So, this morning, I shed my robe, stepped on my scale and made a promise that I'll never stray again. My scale responded.

Yes, those 50 lbs are gone.

Lapbanding In December.........

Something funny is happening here. The encouragement, support and cheers people showered upon me in September, October and November have morphed into gestures of sympathy and pity. In September, when I passed up a huge basket of french fries and a ginormus hamburger, it was "You go girl!". Come December, it's "You poor girl!" As soon as the calendar changes to December, eating as you damn well please becomes a must---a well-deserved right! And, I suspect that eating what you damn well please with someone who is not eating that way is not real festive or fun. As a matter of fact, I think it's downright miserable to dine with someone who is watching their food intake in the month of December. Believe me, I understand that!! What's the old saying....."no one wants to drink alone". Well, the same holds true for indulging in food. People just naturally want you to join in the fun of eating. And, when you don't, you quickly become a reminder that maybe they should eat healthier or at least watch what they are eating. You are spoiling the fun! And, who in hell wants that???? Before my Lapband journey encountered the month of December, I never realized this! Because, let's face it, I was one of those eat-whatever-I-want- and-as much-as-I-want type of people in December (and probably quite a few other months as well.....). I too subscribed to the belief that DIET and DECEMBER don't mix. In fact, I'm pretty certain I considered it a sin to diet in December. And, not much has changed about the way I feel---yes, even now. I am not dieting in DECEMBER. I am eating what I want. I am not suffering. I do not feel deprived. If I were on a "DIET" then I would feel that way. But, I'm not on a DIET. I will never DIET again. That's the whole reason behind why I had the LapBand surgery. So, this whole December attitude shift among some people with me is making me feel bad. I definitely don't want to be labeled as a DECEMBER DIETER (or a party pooper!). Believe me, I've been on a few thousand diets in my lifetime and I can honestly say---this is NOT a diet. This is ME doing what I want to DO. This is ME in December........on my LapBand journey.

Go ahead, ask me what was on the menu..........

The holiday parties have officially began! Last night, we kicked off the season with a lovely open house/housewarming/Christmas party hosted by one of my favorite people--a dear, sweet friend who is probably the most delightful person I know! As always, the decor and the ambiance was amazing. She is one class act with impeccable taste! The woman has style oozing from every pore in her body. When I'm with her, I just can't stop smiling. So, last night, I smiled a lot! And, I oohed and aahed a lot too---marveling at her new home, her fabulous decor and all the special little touches that only she can pull off. For instance, she had the neatest metal stars with battery operated flicker candles strewn about the deck outside her french doors. When you looked outside, it was so tranquil and magical. And, she had the tiniest twinkle lights scattered under the sheer fabrics that were casually covering her tables and buffets. With the lights turned low, the rooms were dazzling. Non-complicated, charming flourishes that were elegant in their simplicity. Then there were the unexpected surprises.....like fancy little snow people sitting in corners and darling little trees perched on window sills. A roaring fire, a spectacularly dressed tree, jazzy holiday tunes, hand painted wine goblets, festive china, lacey linens and flickering candles. A night watching a friend who so deserves to live happily ever after in a castle live happily ever after in a castle. I could not imagine a better way to usher in December and the holiday season........

Oh, and what was on the menu----you ask? Lots and lots of joy. In fact, I was drunk and overstuffed with it.
It was a good feeling. Me in my red holiday skirt knowing that it won't be too tight when I usher December out. Like I said.....JOY. Delicious, filling and oh so LapBand friendly!!!

ONLY 23 Days MORE JOY FILLED DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS!!!!!

Shop Till I Drop........

The Ghost of Christmas Shopping PAST

The Ghost of Christmas Shopping FUTURE

But, for today-----I'm looking forward to a day when my feet will hurt less, my legs won't give out before I find the perfect gift and LUNCH will not be a major activity!

LapBanded Shopping!!!!!

Could my day get any better?

Look what I just found out about!

They come in individual packages that you can slip right into your Christmas-y red purse (you all have one, don't you?)! Why didn't I think of this!!!! You order tequila over ice (the bartender will look at you like "whoa, ain't she a bad ass!") and then when no one is looking, you slip this little packet out of your purse, quietly stir it in that straight tequila and woo-hoo, you got yourself a LapBand-friendly Margarita! And, I'll bet that after your 2nd little secret margarita, you won't be hiding anymore! Heck, you'll be dancing on the bar wearing those little packets as earrrings (or pasties....). This is almost as good as smuggling one of those bags of wine (pull it out of the box...) into concerts in a purse with a hole cut in the side for the spout. And it ranks right up there with wrapping a box of wine in birthday paper....masquerading it as a gift....you can take it anywhere!

Thinking "inside the box" today......margaritas and wine! Like I said....could my day get any better?

Being Santa's Elf........Lapband Style!

(Please click on the sign)

First LapBanded Holiday Season......here I come!

Whoa! Slam on the brakes, girl!
There's lots of
little hors d'oeuvres ahead!

A Lapbanded, Optimistic Turkey..........................

What will you be wearing at your Thanksgiving table this year?

I am going to wear a belt instead of an elastic waist.

And, for that, I am filled with gratitude.

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." -

John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Happy Thanksgiving........

WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

(photo by Pati)
At work!

As soon as my work life settles down a bit, I'll be back to posting more!

I promise!

In the meantime, I figured I'd kill 2 birds with one stone (that's a ridiculous saying, isn't it?)........

*Here's proof that I really am AT WORK......that's me standing by my office door today
*I wanted to share with you what I look like 3 months post LapBand

Stay tuned......please!

I'll make you a deal.....you keep coming back and I will promise you

some very exciting new postings...........

I Can't Drive or Walk All the Time.........

Sometimes, I just have to fly..........

Happy Halloween!

Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!

Yes, I admit it, my blogging has slowed down quite a bit. But, it appears that my counter is still logging visitors. Quite honestly, I'm both astonished and humbled to know that so many people stop by. People are knocking at my door and I'm not even answering. Which makes me a pretty lousy hostess. Not to mention a very rude one. I apologize. You know the old story.....I would have baked a cake if I knew you were coming. But,honestly, I don't bake. I'm not good with any activity that requires precision. Following directions is just not my thing. And, of course, there's also the whole LapBand lifestyle thing---I'm not eating cake. So, no cake. Put away your fork.

That brings me to this question----what can I give you when you stop by? Okay, okay.....I will come clean here---I need a little bit of proper inspiration. Yes, me--the girl with the gift of gab who has a seemingly endless supply of stories---I'm having a little dry spell---writer's block. Plus, of course, I want to be a model hostess. I aspire to be the blog hostess with the mostess. And, I'll own up to it---I'm a people pleaser. There's no shame in that, is there? Wanting to make people happy or more comfortable or wanting to enhance the lives of others is a good thing. I'm sure of it.

Most people tell me they stop by my blog just to see what's going on, to find out how I'm doing, to pass the time or to get a little bit of entertainment. And, that makes me happy. But, I often wonder if there's a person or persons out there who truly needs to know more about something---anything. And, they keep coming back to see if they can get it and find themselves leaving empty handed or worse yet--uninspired. And, that makes me sad.

You see, I'm a writer. Not a writer-writer. I mean, I don't get paid to write. I just write. So, that makes me a writer. And, sometimes we writers are so entrenched in words and how they sound and how they make people feel, that we get a little freaked out when good words don't spill out of our fingertips. Why, just last night, my very talented and sweet 20 year old nephew sat across the table from me and said "Aunt Judi, I wrote an outline for a book." The boy is smart---he knows how to get my attention. He labored over the outline. But, he tells me that he hasn't been able to start writing. Now, an engineer--like my husband--doesn't get it. An engineer figures that if you do the outline then the rest is easy. But, a writer gets it. My nephew's mother---my sister---said that maybe he should go to a writer's commune. Sounds nice. But, even if he did go to a writer's commune (or whatever they call those places where you just lock yourself away and write), if he could not find his "place" in his mind then he might as well just listen to his ipod while he's locked away in the commune. Which, come to think of it---that's what most 20 year olds would be doing when they're just hanging out--whether they're at a writer's commune with the most promising bards of our century scribing away in the adjacent rooms or if they are sitting in their bedrooms while their mothers cook and their fathers mow the grass. It's about living your life and finding inspiration in the moments of your life that are the most rewarding---to a writer.

This whole inspiration thing is a fickle thing. What will inspire me or my nephew or any writer to write? And, even more importantly---what will inspire us to write something that will actually inspire others or will make a difference in their days (or even their lives!)? These are the very questions that quietly speak to me. It's not like I walk around thinking about this all day. No, no. I do many other things. I don't peer around corners and think "now, there's something inspiring, I have to write about it". Although that very thing sort of happened the other day. A dear coworker and I took a quick little jaunt during our lunch hour into one of the more seedy neighborhoods to run an errand. And, right there, within plain sight--I witnessed a drug transaction. A young man was standing in the doorway of a boarded up store front. An older man crossed the street, approached the younger man. The younger man handed him something. They exchanged a few words and then they both vanished. "Look, it's a drug transaction!" I told my coworker. "Wow, I would have never caught that! You can write about that in your blog!" she exclaimed. Quite honestly, I wasn't inspired by it. More than anything, I was terrified by it. We got out of there pretty quickly. But, as I reflected on it---it wasn't the actual drug transaction that stayed with me in any important way. It was my coworker's reaction. I was touched that she sees that side of me---that part of me that finds stories in moments that other people don't capture. She gets it that the daily---sometimes mundane, sometimes exciting----parts of life inspire me. Which brings me back to this whole best blog hostess thing. I really want to know what you come here to read or to find. Oh, yes, I know.....I'm getting way too pretentious here....actually asking something of you! As if I have readers! (I'm having another Carrie Bradshaw moment!!!) But, honestly, a writer's dry spell is different than let's say a football player's dry spell. It's not that you can't write. It's just that you can't write. It's not a lack of motivation or skill. It's the inspiration thing. Motivation and inspiration are 2 very, very different things. And, sometimes there's so much in your head---so many words are swimming around in a writer's brain---that the inspiration can't break through it all. You feel like you have sooo much to say. You don't know where to begin. You need clutter control. It's like you need one of those organizational professionals to come to tell you what's important and what's not. I think that maybe what's plaguing me. That and the fact that I really do want to make a difference. My LapBand journey and the changes in my life have inspired me greatly. Plus, I feel so blessed that this blog is actually read! Now, I don't want to sound corny or big-headed here but now that I have your attention--I really want my journey to somehow inspire you. Even if that's not possible---I want you to walk away with more than what you came with. That's where YOU come in. Ask me some questions. No, no, not like a Dear Abby thing. I want to know what you want to know. I want to know if you want or need to hear about what I am eating. Or, if you want the gory details of how they filled my band. Or, maybe you are curious about specific changes in my life because of the band. Or, maybe my ramblings about my life and times as a banded person---regardless of how non-lapband oriented they are---is what you came here for. Whatever the case---let me know. Maybe I'm looking for purpose along with that inspiration......

My journey......it's not all about me. I don't want to travel alone. Hop in.

Pigging Out...........

Lap Band Style..........


Yes, we made our yearly pilgrimage to the farm. I'm a city girl, you know. But, once a year, we travel the 45 minutes to my version of a farm. They grow things and have animals and stuff. Well, I know for sure that they have pumpkins and apples. And, they have this little petting zoo. Yep, it's a farm. They also have lots of yummy food stands---sausages, kettle corn, nachos, french fries, ice cream, hot dogs, cheeses, carmel apples, funnel cakes. You name it, they fry it, cover it with goo or melt butter on it. In addition to that, they have several lovely, to-die-for shopes on the farm selling crafs, antiques, china, Christmas decor, garden stuff---oh, you know---MY kind of stuff. However, in order to get from the parking lot to the stores---you have to walk through the pumpkin display area, the petting zoo area, the cornstalk maze area and then directly through the food stands. Anyway, you know me, the city girl that I am, as soon as I get out of my vehicle, I am on one mission and one mission only----I want to get into those shops. Yeah, yeah, the pumpkins are nice...not sure why anyone would want to grow so many. Oh, yeah, a cute little goat...seen one seen them all. The cornstalk maze looks fun.....not my thing. But, then.....OOOOH, the smells....do I EVEN need to tell you about the smells of kettle corn popping, french fries frying and sausage simmering in peppers and onions? Like Emeril says "too bad you don't have Smellivision" or in this case....smellacomputer. A world of tantalizing delectable temptations lies between me and my true destination. In my pre-lap band days, I'd loose my willpower somewhere between the overhormoned pumpkin and the snaking line to enter the cornstalk maze. Thus, delaying my visit to the shops and lightening my wallet---preventing me from buying some extra things I have to have but definitely do not need. And, of course, it would also cut into my shopping time. There's no way any shop owner worth his or her cash receipts who would allow a woman balancing a large drink, a bag of kettle corn, a plate of fries, a dripping sausage sandwich and a funnel cake into their quaint little shops. That food was standing between me and where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. But, not today.

Hey John----you're talking about my body.....right?

P.S. I am a ONE-derland (which means that I have left the 200's and am now in the ONE hundreds)

Let's take a look at how far I've traveled.........

Now, I'm sure you remember this picture........a classic "BEFORE PICTURE". I mean, let's face it.....who would share this picture unless it was most definitely a BEFORE PICTURE? Yep, I was heading out the door for surgery........5 am August 10, 2007. The only good thing I can say (about the way I look) is that I have a tan and my painted crocks are cute.

So, here I am 9 weeks later........October 14, 2007. I'm getting ready to head out the door with my family. Things are getting and feeling better---for sure! With about 65 more pounds to loose, I do have a ways to go! But, at least I'm heading in the right direction! Do you like my new lipstick? It's my new Fall shade.....James at the Estee Lauder counter at Boscov's picked it......he said it's just fab with my Mocha Writer Lip Pencil!
And, look at that Fall decorating........

Thank you for following me on this journey. You are keeping me from
heading down that one way, dead-end street..........

An OVERBEARING Bitch or a BITCH who is OVERBEARING?

You know how it is when someone says something to you and you just can't think about anything else for next few hours? Well, that's what happened to me tonight. Now, I admit, sometimes my brain wraps itself around the most insignificant detail and before I know it, I'm analyzing it, dissecting it and vowing to spend the rest of my life researching it. Luckily, something else comes along sooner or later to steal my attention and I rid myself of whatever it was that was so damn important. And, I'm pretty sure that's what will happen with this. But, here's the thing----my daughter tells me that I am overbearing. Yes, overbearing. Me? No way. So, I've been thinking about the word OVERBEARING. And, of course, I've also been wondering about how in the world my own daughter would think that--- I----of all people, am overbearing. The insanity of it, I know!
But, I'm also thinking about the entire feeling of the word OVERBEARING.

Now, let me explain how this came about. My lovely, sweet daughter Toni is going to her Homecoming formal this weekend with her new beau. From what I know, this is her first "real" boyfriend. A very nice young man. Yes, he's cute too. And smart. He won the hearts of my sister and my niece--not an easy fete--by making a special effort to meet them. And, even Carmen thinks he's nice---even though he's not Italian (as far as we know....we haven't done a background check....). And, it seems like he comes from a very good family....his father called him right there as he stood on my porch in front of me at 10:30 at night to tell him it was time to come home. If it was planned to impress me--it was masterful. In any case--he does not go to the same high school as Toni so let's just say that she is importing her date. So, considering the situation, I thought it best that I contact the young man's mother and fill her in on what's going on. In our neck of the woods, these formals and the events surrounding them have a certain protocol. Naturally, there's the dress, the shoes, the jewelry, the make up, the nails and the hair. And, in our neighborhood---there's the group who will be going together, the home that will host the pictures, the mode of transportation, the restaurant where they will eat, the dance itself and then the after party. It's very orchestrated. The dress is, of course, of great importance. The stores around here keep very accurate records on which dresses are sold to which girls from which schools. So, even if you are in love with a dress and your mother has cash in her hand--if another girl has the dress, you are out of luck. If that store would sell the same dress to 2 girls who are going to the same dance, they might as well kiss their business goodbye. It's a law around these parts. Then, there's the shoes. Now, I like this part. I won't go into great detail about what we went through for the shoes. But, I'll say this---several of my wonderful, empathetic coworkers devoted precious time to researching the perfect shoes (if you must know--we needed brown patented leather). In fact, in a moment of sheer desperation, when I mentioned to them that I was thinking of secretly re-habbing a pair of her shoes from a previous dance, each of them showed up at my door and offered their advice--NOOOOOO! Like I said---I was desperate. Thankfully, after a weary weeknight spent shopping, we returned home with not one-- but two pair of the perfect shoes. The jury on which pair she will ultimately wear is still out. It's a tough choice. We're shoe stressed.
Anyway, back to me being an overbearing person. So, like I said--I called the young man's mother. But, I ended up leaving a message. So, she called me back tonight. In the meantime, the smart young man text messaged Toni to warn her that his mother was calling. Isn't technology helpful? So, Toni conveniently stationed herself at the top of the staircase that leads into our kitchen since I was having the conversation there. Now, I know I am talkative. My Grandma Carr kissed the Blarney Stone. That's not a bad thing. Right? I'm friendly, I'm fun, I love rock and roll, my heart is in the right place and I am nice---even though maybe I can be wee bit loud. But, geez, I really work hard to make sure I am kind and considerate. Overbearing---never. Anyway....back to this conversation with the boyfriend's mother. Let's face it, she needed to know what was going on. So, I told her. I gave her the facts---in a friendly way. I invited her and her husband to our home, I explained the schedule, assured her of our involvement in all of it and I answered her questions. And, I told her how nice I thought her son was. Now, does that sound overbearing? Evidently, my daughter thought it was. And, you know what else---I cleared my throat a few times during the conversation. Not good. Gets on her last nerve.
Yes, I know what you're thinking---our children are supposed to feel this way about their mothers. And, anyway---who cares? ME! Yes, I know, we mothers are supposed to expect this. But, not this mother. Anyway, besides all of that and besides the possibility that I must have real self image issues, I am stuck on this word OVERBEARING. All night long, I've been thinking about it. And I'm embarrassed to admit it, but---each time I think of a woman who is OVERBEARING.......I think of a woman who is overweight. Someone who "throws her weight around". I don't have an image of a thin person. An overbearing person is NOT a thin person. An overbearing person is a FAT person. So, that got me to thinking about what I might call a thin woman who acts in an OVERBEARING fashion? Why, a BITCH, of course. So, I wonder......next year when I am not fat and I act OVERBEARING......will I be a BITCH? Hmmmm.......that might be one thing I won't like about being thin. But, I'll give it a whirl......

Doing Happy Hour with my LapBand.......

So, last Friday, I decided it was time to return to one of my favorite activities---meeting friends for Happy Hour. To be honest, I don’t even know the last time we did this. Well, I think they’ve done it recently. But, not me. One of our regular watering holes is a small, local place---it’s one of those “Cheers” kind of places…..where everyone knows your name. You know what I mean……it’s not the kind of place to go for a drink, sit in a dark booth and have some serious conversation. It’s a place to chat with my kids’ kindergarten teacher, talk with old neighbors, find out what’s happening with old friends and share news with half the community I grew up in. As you can tell--- it’s a place to go if you want to talk and laugh and get caught up on gossip. The perfect stop at the end of a long week. Like their sign says….A Place Where Good Friends Gather.

Now, in my pre-LapBand life, my Happy Hour drink was always---gin and tonic with lime. And, at this particular bar—where the owners are dear friends…..they know Judi drinks gin and tonic with lime. Sometimes even double lime. And, it’s not just any gin, thank you. They know that it’s Tanqueray. But, as you know---I cannot drink carbonated stuff. The gin is okay. The lime too. But, put a shot of gin with a lime in a body that doesn’t eat too much and those good friends would be carrying me out the door. Not the thing to do in a place where everyone knows your name! Ah, the challenge of doing Happy Hour after LapBand.

Carol, the owner’s sister and Tessa, an adorable, sweet young woman, were bartending when I got there. “Oh my God, you lost a shit ton of weight!” Carol greeted me (as only a bartender could!) as I climbed on my bar stool next to Pam, a Friday Happy Hour regular. “OOOOH!” Tessa and Pam cooed in unison. Beaming, I accepted their compliments as Kate, one of my wonderful, spirited Happy Hour partners, walked towards us. “Doesn’t she look great?” Kate chimed in as she greeted me with a hug. “What is your secret?” Pam gasped. Hmmm. The moment of truth.
“Well, I had Weight Loss Surgery,” I said. “OOOOH….” they all nodded. “I had LapBand….” I explained. I could see their minds going. Pam leaned forward as if she wanted to know more. But, before anyone knew it, Tessa was dialing the phone. “You have to talk to my Uncle Mike” she told me as she dialed. “He is thinking about it. He really needs it…..he eats sooooo much…..Uncle Mike……here talk to Judi……she just had the LapBand……” she handed me the phone across the bar. As I was chatting with Mike on the phone, the owner walked in. Carol loudly called over to him, pointing to me—“Look at Judi! Look at Judi! She had LapBand Surgery.” Jim meandered over as I sat chatting with Uncle Mike (who I came to learn is a 57 year old man who says he doesn’t even know he’s eating!) and gave me a huge kiss on the cheek “You look great baby! Give her a gin and tonic on me!” he called over to his sister. Immediately, I put my finger up and asked Mike to excuse me for a moment….”No, I can’t have that….” I called over to Carol. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jim’s body slump against the wall…..”What? No gin and tonic for Judi?” he asked, exasperated. “No tanqueray?” he asked in utter disbelief. “No, no tonic…” Kate answered for me since I was once again caught up in a conversation with Uncle Mike. “Oh, okay…..give Judi a gin and lime then……” he told his sister. Again, I tried to intervene but the conversation with Uncle Mike, the unconscious eater who was considering LapBand, took an intense turn. How could I tell Uncle Mike to hold on as he told me the most intimate details of his life. So, I watched as Carol poured the tangueray into a short, stalky glass. Then, as she squeezed the lime, she looked over to me “Ice?” she asked. I nodded affirmatively and gestured for her to put lots of ice……lots of ice........
And, thus began my first LapBanded Happy Hour.

A Postcard from The Edge......as my journey continues

Wish you were here!

As you can see from the picture, I'm still on the road. A little weary from my travels (thus the bad hair day). I need a Spa Day! So, I plan to stop at the next exit for a little R&R. See you then!