A while back I was told by a friend that in another country they call what we call "the foamies" by the name "alien spit." I thought that was a great description!
(For those of you who don't know, the foamies are when you eat too much or too fast and your stomach fills up so your body decided to make tons of siliva in order to break down the food faster. This might work with a normal stomach, but with a WLS stomach, it just makes things worse as now there is spit in there making there be even less room causing even more spit to be produced.)
A few days later, someone took this picture of me at our Podium swim workout and the first thing I thought was: Alien spit!
Don't I look just like those pictures of aliens on the cover of the National Enquirer? Or maybe some weird sort of human bug? It was the bubble of air just about to come out of my mouth that made me think of "alien spit" though.
Another time I think of aliens is when I look at my loose skin. (Which I was quite careful to cut of this picture since I'm really rather vain about my new body, as imperfect as I know it is.) I have this mental image of the scene in Men in Black where Vincent D'Onofrio's character (Edgar?) comes back into the house after killing the owner and putting on his skin. He's got some loose flaps of it around his neck and his "wife" asks what's wrong. Vincent/Alien Bug in Edgar's Skin catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, gives a grunt and repositions his skin so it fits around his body better.
Wouldn't it be great if it was just that easy?
But no, we have to decide to live with our extra skin or get plastic surgery. Personally, I'd like to avoid PS. I'd rather spend the money on something fun like a new car or a new bike. Also, I don't want to deal with the scarring and the downtime and the pain and the risk.
But I hate that I look like a shar pei some days when I've worked so hard to get my body into such fantastic shape. It's not that it's a bit wrinkly or saggy. I expect saggy boobs and some poof around the tummy at my age. What I didn't expect was having flaps of skin that fold over my bras and hang down my face like a bulldog. I hate this flap that hangs over my midriff too. I want to carry a sign "I don't need to lose 5 pounds; that's loose skin and muscle separation and I can't do anything about it!"
Anyway, it's been particularly bad this week, for some reason. Other times, I think I look fine and will not need PS in any way. But lately those times are fewer and the times I feel like a freak are happening more and more. So I've been thinking about plastic surgery more and more.
I've decided to give it six months and then see how much of my skin has recovered by then. Maybe by then money will be less of an issue too. Though I'm sure there will be some new gadget I'll want more. Like an all-carbon fiber bike with Dura-Ace components. Or a kick ass laptop computer.
Then again, giving my inner skinny bitch the body she deserves is definitely one of my goals and, if it takes plastic surgery to get that....