Unique Birthday Present Sucks

Okay, M’luvs. Got something really fun to talk to you about today.

By now, you know I’m perfectly willing to take this whole Weight Loss Revolution thing patiently. It took years to get myself in this condition. And I know it’s going to take a year or longer to get where I really want to be physically. My commitment to Tony-Time twice a week at my gemofagym, and cardio on the off days, hasn’t waned one iota. I swear on a stack of Snickers. It’s as strong as my legs are getting as I push and lift and step-up each week. BUT…

I had this little problem with one particular part of my anatomy…one I honestly don’t think all the lifting and stretching would ever solve. Those dreaded “shakers” under my arms. All fat people have them. Just big satchels full of nothing but ugly lard. They flap and wave when you reach for something. And make your garments look like leotards. So seeing as my 65th birthday was coming up, I knew Leon would want to give me a very special gift. Heaven knows he has showered me with finery through the years. He loves to see me beam with joy when I get something I really have a hankering for…jewelry, car, trip. He is generous to a fault. However, in his condition these days, it would be impossible for him to select a gift for my fast approaching, milestone birthday.

Which means, I get to be the shopper this year. A subject in which I hold a PhD. And have lettered in every year since I was 16-years-old. Spoiled rotten woman? Yes siree, I sure am. I know it. But I don’t take it for granted. Honest Injun.  I count my lucky stars every night. Therefore, on this auspicious occasion I decided to give me a gift I've been wanting for years. Something lasting.  And downright showy. Something unique that I can “crow” about to all my friends making them green with envy. Something I don’t have to leave to my children in my last will and testament.  Something I can take with me everywhere I go, and not fear that it might be broken, stolen, highjacked or lost. A visual gift I can remember daily as my --TaDah! -- 65th birthday present.

So this past week I just went out and got it. Drum roll please. Cue the music. I got liposuction on my upper arms. And I’m like a whole new woman! For the first time in years, the sleeves on my T-shirts aren’t skintight. I can actually wear a sleeveless anything and not feel totally Petunia Pig. I now feel like my work at the gym with Tony “Swoon” will actually be able to produce decent looking arms without having to wait a decade to achieve it. After all, as I told him, “time’s a wastin”!” He chided me about the whole thing, saying our training would eventually get the results I want, but gee whiz, Tony, I’m not a college girl anymore! I’m a grandmother, for Pete’s sake. What’s wrong with getting a little edge on looking better?

Now I DO want to point out, I’m not one of those gals who wants to get her face remade. I like mine just the way it is, flaws and all. It’s a topographical map of what my life has been all about. And I prefer it look its age. I'm not trying to turn myself into a cougar or anything.

But I do want my little grandson to be proud of his GrannyMur. And quite frankly, I think Debby Boone looks like a third world refugee in those Life Style Lift commercials. Her one and only hit song still doesn’t “Light Up My Life.” I’m convinced that my gym work at Fitness@Five and diet plan with Weight Watchers will take care of the rest – and maybe even one day I will discover I have a waistline again. It’s totally feasible. All in good time.

But today, I salute Dr. Steve Lober of Athens Plastic Surgery for his outstanding work on my two flabby arms. His valued tool, the liposucker, must be the surgical relative of my precious cheerleading team mascot, Little Vacuum Hodgson, affectionately known as L’il Vac, of Atlanta.

They poked and sucked, and filled a container with the gross, unwanted fat that was eventually tossed in a medical waste container in the operating room. While we all just grinned and joked as I cheered from the table,  “good riddance you heinous tissue.” Dr. Lober’s staff was exceptionally wonderful.

The only snag came when my stupid blood veins just didn’t want to be stabbed for the IV. I felt so sorry for the lovely assistant who was trying ever so hard not to hurt me, while having a god-awful time getting my veins to perk up. My “sleeper” (lady with the magical drugs to make sure I didn’t feel any pain), Vicki Woods, is now a new friend, and she gave me comfort as she administered the anesthesia. It put me in a quiet twilight slumber. Even though I was pretty much aware what was taking place outside my eye cover, I didn't feel one drop of pain. And my recovery nurse, beautiful and sweet as an angel on earth, Carol Kohler, had me wanting to spend the day in the comfort of her care.

After 24 hours, I was back to normal. Doing my Meg stuff just like before. A total miracle. Minimal pain, lots of happiness gained.  So worth it.  I feel almost like a college girl again.  Now if I can just find that waistline… Happy Birthday to Me!

RESULTS Week 8: gain of 1 pound. No problem…must have been something I ate! Or didn’t eat, because Weight Watchers mandates that one consume all of the allowed PointsPlus, which I have a hard time doing. Or it could actually be that muscle I feel forming in my tummy. Whatever.

Dear Diary, (musings from my Love Your Life journal)

Not much going on this week, in anticipation of the surgery. Sorry to have gained one pound, but c’est la vie. Didn’t get my full gym work in also due to surgery, but will be able to resume in a couple of weeks with renewed vigor. Did gain a new cheerleader, a darling friend from my past, Jane Beadles, who now lives in Sea Island. Oh, yes, and my wonderful anesthesiologist, Vicki Woods of Blakeley. Love having readers from other towns. So I’m happy happy happy.