This is not a post about me in weight maintenance mode, though if you looked at my logs you’d believe that I’d been “maintaining” for the last year. Unfortunately, I am about 8″ too short for my current weight to be an ideal one. No, this is not that type of maintenance post. It’s the type of maintenance post that I write when I want to let you know that I’m still alive, and when I want to check on my blog to make sure it hasn’t been h@x0red.
Wednesday marked 6 weeks post-op, which seems to be the magic number of weeks universally agreed upon by plastic surgeons for when you’re cleared to do pretty much anything. My surgeon was not that conservative and allowed me to do more things a couple weeks ago, but I still eased back into it. Sort of. Does a lot of walking and two spin classes count as getting back into it?
Here’s a quick photo because I am honestly bored of talking about my surgery and you’re probably bored of reading about it. I don’t mean that in a negative way; it’s just that there aren’t any mind-blowing developments at this point.
As you can see, it’s starting to smooth out and not look so lumpy as the weeks go by. The day-to-day, and even hour-to-hour status changes a lot depending on how active I’ve been and how much salt I’ve consumed. My boobs are less tender as I jump or jog, and my arms have been graduated to reeeeeeally expensive silicone scar treatment strips.
These $#%@$#@ things are expensive ($100 for a box of four), and only last 4-5 days depending on how often I shower. As you can imagine, I’m not too thrilled about needing them for the next month and a half. But, that’s life, if I want to have the faintest and thinnest scars possible. At least I don’t have to drive to Beverly Hills every week anymore.
I have apparently decided to put on my whine pants before posting today. Time to go.