Saturday, March 7, 2015


FOUR DAYS MOTHAFUCKAS!  Where have the last 6.5 months gone since I first daydreamed of this momentous occasion?  It’s coming at just the right time too because I’m massively in need of a day or 10 away from work, and it’s cold and snowy and I’m ready to have an excuse to not go outside. 

I’ve basically done everything I need to do at this point, and just did a big grocery haul to stock up on stupid healthy stuff to eat afterwards.  I really have no idea what or when I’ll be able to eat but I’m trying to stick to high protein and low sodium.  I apparently have it in my head that I won’t have teeth or the ability to chew because a lot of what I’m getting is along the lines of- smoothies, yogurt, pudding, popsicles, hummus, soup.  I mean, I guess that stuff is also easier on the stomach but I can probably branch out somewhat.  Apparently the swelling afterward is no joke so I’m really going to try to focus hardcore on watching my sodium.  Protein is to help your body heal or some such.  In my mind that means I should just eat like a pile of chicken breast for every meal.  It’s not like I have to be Atkins up in this bitch, so I’ll try to find some middle ground. 

I’ve also been getting all reflective and introspective about the surgery because I’m weird and like to zone out a lot.  I was mentally comparing this to my nose job when I was 19 and thinking about how much less thought I put into that surgery.  It was an easier recovery, for sure, but I also didn’t bother listening to much of what the doctor said or doing things to aid my recovery, and basically just let my parents take care of everything.  That all makes sense of course- I was just finishing up my freshman year of college and at a point in my life where I didn’t like doing adult things like making my own doctor’s appointments or paying for shit.  And whereas now I’m mapping out meal ideas for after surgery to aid in my recovery, back then I was excited at the prospect of not being able to eat for 4 days and losing a quick 8 pounds.  So I guess it’s cool that at the not-so-tender age of 31, I’ve become somewhat of an independent adult who is not a total dumbfuck. 

And even more weirdly, I’ve been having unexpectedly emo moments at the gym lately where I’m like, shit, working out is the one thing that I’ve been consistent at for a really insane amount of time.  I’ve been working out 3-4 times a week pretty much every week since February 2009 and I doubt I’ve gone more than a week without working out in that stretch, and even that is pretty rare.  Yeah, I’m fucking bragging, but I’m also having an unexpectedly weird sense of loss over the fact that I won’t be working out for like a month or more.  Like I seriously hate running and whine about it every single damn time I do it, but last night after I hopped off the treadmill I was like damn it’s going to be strange to not do this for so long.  And it’s going to suck hardcore getting back into shape after such a long break.  I’ve also probably used the reliability and consistency of my gym routine as more of a crutch than I’ve realized.  I guess crutch isn’t the right term since I generally think it’s a good thing.  But I started thinking about how many times I can vividly recall going to the gym after some kind of crazy or weird or bad moment in my life and trying to use it as a place to zone out or forget whatever happened that day.  I’m not saying it usually worked… most of the time I’d just get real mentally whiny about how much I just wanted the workout to end, but I definitely have made a habit of turning to a workout as a distraction when I needed one.  Anyway, I’m going to slap myself silly if I get any more emotional about exercise, so I’ll just leave it at that.  I know that I will actually really enjoy the break from the gym and though it might suck the first couple weeks back, I’ll build my endurance back up and all that fun stuff.

Ok I’m rambling, and I will probably ramble to holy hell in the hours and days and weeks of nothing I have post-surgery where I’ll be bored out of my mind and attempting to wax poetic about why plastic surgery makes me think about life differently or some shit.  So that’s what’s probably in store.  And I will post pictures very soon.  Maybe.

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