So, we've made it through Christmas and over a week into the New Year. How crazy is that? Wasn't it just time for fall semester? Now we're going back for the spring? Geez, someone slow this train down already!

In all seriousness, my first set of holidays post-op did not go as well as I could have hoped. I was certain that five months out from my RNY I'd have enough grip on things to control myself around the abundance of finger foods. Wrong-o! Here's what I had at my gigantic family's get together Christmas night:

• At least 1/4 cup of cashews
• Three (regular) triscuits with a slice of the party-required cheese ball
• Three...count them...THREE sausage balls

The cashews would have been fine on their own. The triscuits on their own could have been worse I'm sure. BUT MY SURGEON DIDN'T EVEN WANT ME TO HAVE PORK OR BEEF UNTIL SIX MONTHS OUT!

This was the first time I'd tried it! And I tried it in a ridiculously high-fat content way along with other fatty foods! Needless to say, shortly after this mayhem I spent a good half hour laying on the floor of the bathroom, worshiping the porcelain god whilst telling myself how stupid I was. It was the first time I'd dumped since my post-Thanksgiving "bounce back" into health. I was afraid I didn't do it anymore, but let me tell you -- I do, and it is still just as horrible as I remember!

However, Santa didn't just leave me with a case of dumping syndrome and hit the road. There was an upside to my Christmas in that the week of and week following I dropped fifteen pounds following my longest stall at 220 lbs. I'm now 205 and stuck again -- poor Andie will never see the joys of ONEderland :(

Of course, the stall could be thanks to the gloriously irressistable cashews that have followed me home from aforementioned Christmas gatherings. New Years Resolution: Please to stop teh grazing nao. And avoid dumping again, gosh darn it!

After getting the bright idea I was going to hop on the gastric bypass blog ship and magically find the motivation to get healthy, things went...rather downhill. And by rather downhill, I of course mean tumbling wildly out of control with a force I'm quite certain broke the sound barrier. Yeah. It was that kind of crazy.

I have not been well since the end of August, wherein I had my first experience post-op with something "getting stuck." I was just into solid food, and ate a piece of spicy chicken in a matter of minutes. My pouch got severely aggravated after the resulting heave session, and my tolerance for anything gradually worsened. Long story short, I was in the hospital getting rehydrated by the first of September.

I would like to have said getting myself hydrated "cured" my ailments, as it had for some post-ops I knew personally, but it didn't. After that experience, I was left with a phobia of eating.

Let me explain. Before surgery, I didn't know what nausea was -- it just wasn't a problem for me. I was on a 12 year vomit-free streak I thought I was prepared to surgically end. When I learned what real nausea was, and I associated it with food, it threw me for a real loop. I would work myself up to panic before meals, and for weeks was literally paralyzed with fear at least an hour after eating. I didn't want to move for fear of vomiting. I didn't want to eat for fear of vomiting. I didn't want to do anything because I hated the sensation and resulting experience just that much.

So, I spent two months existing on nothing, and doing nothing. I'd maybe manage four ounces of milk a day, with a few pathetic nibbles of food in-between. And I most definitely was feeling the effects. I lost a ridiculous amount of muscle, which resulted in the constant feeling that every limb in my body was strained. My hair was falling out in clumps, and I just generally felt like crap. There was nothing pretty about it.

Flash-forward to the week following the start of this blog and things go from bad to worse. So much for motivation to get healthy! Suddenly I wasn't even getting in my bites of things or my sips of milk. My pouch started burning constantly (in rage from its neglect, most likely), but I always felt like I was hungry. It was miserable, and within several days I had managed to get myself where I wasn't able to even keep water down.

I made the decision, during a bout of the dry heaves in the middle of the night, that if I survived long enough to call my surgeon, I was going to do everything in my power not to get to this point again. I did, and spent a good three days in the hospital once again, getting a ridiculous amount of fluid pumped into me. Just long enough to miss Thanksgiving, which I had been dreading anyway.

And there began the process of making my stomach be friends with me again, haha. My dietitian had me taking little bites of something every hour for a bit there, just to keep it working. Now, I'm eating six times a day, religiously, and pushing my water intake. Let me tell you -- I already feel a thousand times better! I think I'd almost forgotten what having energy was like...

So, here's to a second shot at this whole shindig, ey? Food finally isn't some demon plaguing me, meaning I can eat the things a person at my stage should without being virtually "Out of Order" afterward. The dietitian's goals for me now are getting in at least one fruit or vegetable a day, sticking to healthy carbs, and low fat choices. I'm on it -- and hopefully I'll get a little better at it with each day.

Now, if I can just get this good about vitamins XD

In the beginning, there was a fat chick named Andie. A fat chick who was in denial over her own level fatness, and in fact avoided the word in reference to herself at all costs. That girl is, or was, me.

I offer "was" because I have been lucky enough to receive a new beginning in my life, and it came in the form of RNY gastric bypass surgery. That's right: on July 15th, 2009, at twenty years old, I took the plunge into what has already been a life changing experience.

So why start blogging now?

Four months in may seem like an odd time to start sharing one's experiences along this journey we call WLS. However, the road is a long one; and even four months in and nearly 100 pounds lighter, I still find myself in the stages of recovery. Both before and after surgery, nothing has helped me more than the personal accounts of fellow WLSers. So, I guess in some way, I hope to throw in my own experiences as well, and maybe help someone in the ways I have been. Though I can't say having outlet for my triumphs as well as my struggles will be a bad thing either. And maybe a little accountability along the way?

Who knows? We'll see where this journey takes us. From where I'm sitting, we're only just getting started...