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Saturday, September 17, 2011


I know that this is real--six weeks ago, I had surgery that left my stomach the size of an egg.  I know that.  I can eat--mostly chicken, by the way--two or three ounces of food at a time.  I am losing weight every day.  I am.  I would have to be--think about it.  I may eat nine ounces of food a day. Nine ounces! Of course, I'm losing weight.

Still, I don't believe it.  On some weird level, it's inconceivable to me.  When I look at clothing in the store, I look at the size I *was* before the surgery.  I can't even conceive of fitting into smaller sizes.  It is surreal.

Today I wore a pair of pants that used to be tight, so tight that there is a slight tear at the pocket from where I stretched them beyond their ability to stretch.   Today, it was like I was wearing clown pants. Big in the seat, the legs, the stomach--everywhere.  Again, because I'm having a hard time grasping this, I told myself that the pants just stretched, until I saw someone who said to me, "I remember when you wore those and they were *tight*."  

 When she said that, I smiled--it was the confirmation I needed.  I have to continue to remind myself that I *am* losing weight--and I *will* continue to do so.  But if you see me, comment on it, would you?  I need the confirmation!

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