It's been ages since I've put pen to paper on this site, but felt that the book writing may gain new momentum if I start a blogs page. So much has changed in my life since I lost the weight that I'm not sure where to begin... I record the ensuing ramblings in the hope that they encourage readers to step into their own personal power, dare to dream big and make those dreams a reality. For once the ripple of change starts, it's hard to stem the tide.

The current series of blogs is on my recent abdominoplasty.

This week I returned to working from the office - it was a big week at work and now that I look back on it I'm amazed I did so well.

The irony about going back to work was that almost everyone was or had been ill with a very nasty cold. So on Monday night I came down with a massive head cold that lasted all week. It's almost gone now, just the tail end remaining. Thank goodness for a relatively strong immune system and the flu vax - say what you like but I feel it really does help.

By Thursday I was feeling so good (except for my cold) that I did 45 minutes of cardio on the Orbital trainer in the gym. I then walked to and from work (6km) plus I also ran some errands around the city (2km).

But on Friday morning I wasn't feeling as good - I was tired and lethargic and still ill. I worked from home (as planned) but really struggled through the day.

I was meant to go out to an IBM function with Tony that night, but as the afternoon wore on I realised that perhaps the long week with a significant amount of cardio I had managed to over do it. Plus I was feeling sick and depressed which always leads to me over eating.

With a full stomach, and tired and sore stomach muscles I was grumpy and irritable, unable to find any relief. Tony left me to attend the function and I was even more miserable - taking pain killers to numb the pain yet unable to sleep. It was like taking 5 steps backwards in my recovery.

I wasn't pleasant to be with and I was highly emotional, charged up and unhappy. Tony bore the brunt of it when he returned home around 11.30pm. I finally fell asleep after about an hour long deep and meaningful discussion (although how deep and meaningful can you be on really strong pain killers?) and a crying session.

Yesterday, feeling much better, we ran a number of errands and cleaned the apartment in preparation for an evening with 10 of our friends whom we had not seen in several months.

Even though I knew my weight was up due to my recent 'blow outs' I felt much better in my 1983 original Lee jeans, which I had bought at age 13 but never been able to fit into. Proof that everything old is new again, and if you wait long enough everything will eventually come back into style.

The evening was a great success with great food, wine and friendship and it was great to catch up with the gang without the kids. It had been a very long day for me and I had to excuse myself by midnight as I was exhausted.

Today, not game to weigh myself, I'm taking it easy, being kind to myself and enjoying the leftovers!

Things have been going generally very well from a recovery perspective but I have lost my way with my eating a little. Either I am very good, or I am very very bad - there seems to be no in between.

On Wednesday night I lost control and had what I refer to as  'blow out'. Once I start, I can't stop, and it starts almost solely with consumption of refined carbohydrates - particularly bread, biscuits or cake. And once I've started, I figure I may as well do a right royal job of it rather than stop. Silly really, but I'm a carbohydrate addict and rational thought does not come into play with this emotional state.

Anyhow, what has been an interesting journey has been the realisation of how many functions you actually use your stomach muscles for - lifting, moving, laughing, singing, coughing and sneezing.

So my recovery has involved refraining from lifting, moving too much, laughing and siging, whilst learning new ways to cough and sneeze.

Several people said to me before my operation that the nurses would re teach me how to cough and sneeze. Only problem was they didn't. I was particularly grateful to Grace and my mum for giving me some tips and for mentioning that I should hold my stomach whenever I did these actions. You don't realise the immense amount of pressure that is exerted on the stomach area during each function until you've had that sort of operation. And those techniques certainly helped prevent a lot of pain. I don't think I'll ever take my stomach muscles for granted again.

On Thursday, feeling bad after my 'blow out', I returned to my doctor for a review - I was a little concerned about some potential fluid build up around my scar and so I skipped a staff lunch to get this checked out. I only expected to get half my stitches out at this review - but the healing had gone so well that the surgeon very off handed said to his nurse "Cathy you can pull all of those out". Pull was the word I wasn't too keen on. I had taken two of my ripper pain killers an hour before my review in preparation but to say I was nervous about having stitches removed was a bit of an understatement.

Whilst I'm not nervous about blood and guts, I've always been nervous about stitches. And whilst I've had very few in my life, those that I have had have left painful memories. In fact the last stitches I had were in 1978, I was 8 and I had microsurgery to save two of my fingers on my right hand that had been squashed in a flying fox pulley system.

Indeed the injury and subsequent treatment had been incredibly painful and I was very lucky indeed to keep my fingers. But I distinctly remember going back to the hospital to have my stitches redressed and the matron who attended me (with my mother by my side) being rather impatient with the hospital's youngest patient.

She attempted to pull the blood soaked dried gauze from my stitches and my fingers began to bleed. Gauze back in those days wasn't the sensational non sticking stuff it is today  instead it was a webbed fabric, that stuck to bleeding wounds forming a thick mat of dried stiff fabric.

My mother, seeing streams of tears running down my brave face as I tried to bare the pain couldn't take it any more and told the matron to let her do it and to get us a bowl of warm water. A very low process began of soaking and gently lifting the blood soaked gauze off the stitches below. The matron was for the most part no where in sight, but, over time, the stitches were revealed and the wound count be re dressed.

This was such a painful ingrained memory for me that I expected the worse, plus this time I had staples. I needn't have worried - the staples came out very easily and felt like small pin pricks, and the stitches were even less painful. It was almost a pleasure and a relief to have them out.

After the procedure I was treated to a complimentary lymphatic drainage massage around my wound area. Grace had told me that this would be very beneficial before and after the operation and so she had come over the night before my operation and given me one. However as I was unable to lay flat on the table I had not subsequently booked another. But the massage felt very good and I walked home happy but a little emotionally exhausted, so slept the rest of the pain killers off.

This morning I was 72.2kg and 31% body fat, so no change in the statistics. This is going to require a significant amount of cardio and resistance training to get my body back into shape - once I can reuse my stomach muscles of course!

Whilst I was a little concerned at my high weight loss over the last 24 hours - 1.2kg to 72.2kg - I was more concerned at the stagnation of body fat at 31.0%. Effectively this mean I had lost more lean muscle mass [if we do the math, 100-31 = 69% lean muscle mass. 69% of 73.4kg = 50.65kg compare with 69% of 72.2kg = 49.82kg which equates to a lean muscle mass loss of 0.83kg].

What this means is more exercise and increased protein is required in order to build lean muscle mass, using existing body fat as fuel in the process. My goal is to lower my body fat to between 20% and 22% - and I'm not sure what weight this will equate to, but as muscle weighs more than fat it shouldn't be much less than 68kg, perhaps closer to 70kg.

My recent results are proof that whilst diet is important in attaining slimness, exercise is the key in toning the body. Usually I would have recommenced my weight resistance program by now, however as I still can not lift heavy items yet I am having to rely solely on cardio for the time being.

So I started this morning with a 5km walk - two laps of the park - and felt exceptionally good. Yesterday I had wanted to go for an evening walk to round out my day, however my discomfort had increased and so, fearing I had pushed myself too far I decided caution was the best option and I refrained from any evening exercise.

I missed Tony terribly on this morning's walk and these past few days without him nearby have left me pondering how much indeed I love him. In any relationship there are things that niggle you about your partner - those eccentric mannerisms or incomparable traits that make that person unique, whether they be frustrating, annoying or endearing - but the thing I really love about Tony, apart from staying by my side and supporting me with unconditional love and a strength that adds to my own, is that he continually challenges me to strive to be a better person than I already am. So whether or not I want to hear something (and many times I'd prefer it sugar coated or presented in a more gentile manner) I'd still never have him any other way. I'm looking forward to his return on Monday night.

It's interesting in reviewing the front page on my site this morning how much things have changed and my life has progressed. With the exception of Natalie, Veronica and my family, I have virtually no contact with FitnessLand (after a falling out), and my associations with most of the others have just drifted apart for no real reason other than I have moved on mentally and physically, but more importantly, geographically.

When I was going through the weight loss process I lived in Bundoora worked in Heidelberg, and my support network was around my local area. But with our move to East Melbourne in August 2006, and my subsequent job change to CBD-based IBM in June 2007 my network has indeed changed.

If there's anything I can impart in today's blog, it is that you truly can have the life that you've dreamed about - if only you believe you can. There's been a lot of talk over recent months about The Secret and Newton's Law of Attraction, and I firmly believe that the ability to realise these dreams is to a large extent a mental challenge and one that can be overcome by this way of thinking.

So it won't be surprising to tell you that I sit here today typing on my leading edge laptop, looking out of the window of our beautiful 3 bedroom inner city apartment across our manicured courtyard to the city skyline beyond; tomorrow I'm returning to another week at my dream job (although I will do a bit of prep work this afternoon); and we're in planning for our October trip to Rome, Venice, and Switzerland which will be delightfully interspersed with a Greek Islands cruise. Over the almost 11 years Tony and I have been together we've built up a good bank of property, investments and artworks, and our net wealth is increasing nicely (despite it being a crazy routine of hard work 7 days a week) to the point that we may well be able to retire by our goal of 31 December 2010 - if we choose to do so. I have the relationship of my dreams (and we work hard at it every day). But the best bit by far is knowing that the love of my life returns to my arms on Monday night!

So dare to dream big, and allow yourself permission to have the life you desire - we only get one shot at this one so grab it with both hands. And know deep down inside that you really do deserve it.

Today's stats 73.4kg and 31.0% body fat - the tide has turned as muscle is starting to build. I decided to go for a walk around the park after breakfast and see if I could lengthen my range. One of the things I have dearly missed since the operation is Tony and my morning walk around the park. It is cherished time we spend together chatting about the day's agenda and our future desires and plans. I was eager to get back to a position where I could again join Tony for those walks, which were either 1 lap (3km) or 2 laps (5km) around the park, depending on available time. I was also keen to get back to a speed where I wouldn't be slowing him down too much as I continued to recover.

I started off and quickly reached the point I turned back yesterday, my pace was good. I decided to keep going and complete the 3km lap as I kept pace with the beat of the music on my MP3 player. After 35 minutes I was back at the 'go home or continue for a second lap' point and I was still feeling great. I decided to go for it. My posture had straightened further overnight (as I have been reducing my pillows and hence sleeping angle to gradually stretch out the skin to enable me to stand more upright) and so my back wasn't as sore as it would normally have been. But by the end of the second lap I was a little tired and sore and headed home, taking the stairs very slowly.

But half an hour after I got home I was feeling great again, and determined to get my dry cleaning in I decided to walk to Wellington Parade to drop them off. A walk past East Melbourne Cellars on the way back saw me find some 2002 Cape Jaffa Siberia - the current cellar door release on 2005 and I have fond memories of the dark, chocolaty, spice-filled 2002 shiraz. With two bottled and a bottle of 2004 highly recommended Heathcote Shiraz in tow I meandered back to the apartment for my next big task - my first post op shower.

My black elasticised corset had been on 24x7 since I woke from the operation 8 days ago and the thought of being able to remove it fully was something that I could almost not comprehend. I unfastened the dozens of clasps down the front an pulled the shoulder strap off. Here goes.... I pushed the corset down my thighs and, now loose, it slipped around my ankles and onto the floor. I stepped out of the corset and felt a new found freedom. I felt my skin could breathe without the constant elasticised force I had grown strangely accustomed to. I examined the sticky-ness of my cover dressings to determine if they may wash off during the shower and whilst the lower dressing was firmly in place, the dressing covering my relocated belly button was hardly sticking. I decided if it did come off and could not be re-stuck that I could go the the chemist and get some more.

I turned on our shower ensuite, hearing the familiar patter of the water on the marble tiles below that had recently grown so distant a memory. Hot showers were one of my all time favourite things - the hotter the better. Tony often referred to me as a lobster after I'd stepped from a steaming shower, my skin with a faint red tinge. But this time I had to be careful and my would may be particularly sensitive to heat, let alone moisture. I ensured the temperature was not overly hot and I gingerly stepped inside, making sure the water first hit my back and away from the dressings.

OMG, could there ever be anything more blissful than this? The water gently caressed every inch of my skin as I was enveloped in its warmth. Not only was the heat good, but the pressure of the water on my wounds gently massaged them and 'scratched' the inches that have been increasing rapidly with the healing process. Not wanting to get out, I eventually decided that a long shower was not a particularly good idea for my wounds or the environment. I jumped out, dried off and headed to the hairdryer to do my worst and resurrect the wet cover bandage into its former glory.

I woke feeling particularly bright and cheery and jumped on the scales - 73.6kg and 33.0% body fat. Whilst my weight had dropped from 78.8kg the day of the operation, my post operative body fat of 24.5% had risen substantially, mostly due to the lack of exercise and loss of lean muscle mass. My recovery had been excellent and trouble free, thanks to my good health and exercise regime in which I walk between 10km and 20km each day. I was determined to get back into shape and start exercising immediately.

I put on my tracksuit and headed out for 30 minutes was in the local Fitzroy Gardens, taking the stairs. The warmth of the golden morning sun felt wonderful on my back as it soaked through my jacket and the ensuing layers to my skin below. The air was particularly cool and had a fresh crispness after a good soak of rain overnight. I managed half a lap (about 1.5km) - not bad for a first effort. The main reason it's difficult to walk is the hunch which puts immense pressure on my lower back and an ache starts to develop quickly. I headed home feeling a little better about being active but also knowing there's a long way to go.

My workday was frantic in due to for end of week reporting requirements, planning for Monday's workshop and replying to audit emails. But I managed to time my lunch perfectly shortly after 2pm and take two pain killers in preparation for my 3pm surgical appointment where I was due to have stitches removed. I was nervous to say the least.

I had agreed with the surgeon before I left the hospital that I was able to walk the 750 metres each way to his East Melbourne surgery, and as I stepped from the basement car park the heavens opened. Hmmm... what if I slipped as I walked - it could be a disaster. I decided to take the risk, having only 20 minutes to make the trip. Any other form of transport would surely take longer and I would be late for my appointment. I trod carefully, umbrella in one hand and kept my eyes wide open for obstructions, potholes, uneven paths and anything that may cause a slip.

I arrived at the surgeon's office in 10 minutes, and sat in the plush waiting room. A few minutes later Dr. Reid walked past as he prepared to see another patient and seeing me he asked "so did you walk up here?". "I most certainly did" I answered proudly. "How did you go then?". "No worries" I answered. He gave me a wry smile as he disappeared from view.

Dr Reid had told his head nurse Cathy about how he had caught me in the courtyard the Sunday after my operation and I returned a sheepish glace when they mentioned it again. My surgical review went well once we had adjusted the treatment bed accordingly. I removed the sticky bandages to reveal the 3 layers of wadding that the staff at Vaucluse had wrapped me in before my discharge. It felt good to remove the sticky cover from my skin that had grown itchy underneath over the last week. Cathy helped me remove the layers of wadding and then I lay on the bed - my nerves were growing as I anticipated the pain that was coming.

Dr Reid continued to remove the large steri-strips from my wound, revealing a plethora of stitches and sliver coloured staples underneath. Assuring me he would not remove any staples yet I could relax and enjoy the amazing feeling of having the sticky strips removed from my itchy skin - it felt amazingly good to get rid of that. Dr. Reid noticed one of the stitches from the drain tube on my right hand side had not been fully removed. So he pulled that one out and I squinted a little. Deciding not to remove any stitches until next week I was ecstatic that he advised it was looking sensational and he and nurse Cathy stuck new cover dressings over my wounds. I was even more thrilled when he advised I could now shower, as long as I ensured I properly dried my thin sticky cover dressing with a hair dryer and that I didn't over do it with the walking. I agreed.

I also got Dr Reid's permission to cease all my pain killers, unless I needed them. Many times I hadn't felt like I needed them, but continued to take 2 tablets with every meal in prevention of pain to increase my mobility. From about 2 days after the operation I wasn't having any pain, just some discomfort and I felt like the pain killers weren't having much of an effect and that I could reduce or eliminate them.

It also left me wondering whether I had a particularly high tolerance to pain or that generally people had a very low pain and discomfort tolerance. Feeling the tablets had been unnecessary for some time now I was excited at the prospect of not needing to take them, except perhaps to sleep at night.

I was in high spirits as I left and, with the rain having ceased at least momentarily, I headed back home via the chemist to fill out my next Antibiotics script. I again decided to take the stairs and headed home feeling great, but also knowing that my return to the surgery next week would probably be filled with considerable pain. But for the time being I was free and in no pain.

It was after my return that I also realised that my pronounced tummy had again shrunk - this time the three layers of wadding had been removed and there was no bandaging to pad things out. I miracled at my new profile - not quite a flat stomach due to the remaining swelling, put pretty close. I wonder........ my head began to race. I had for many months not been able to fit into many of the dresses, pants and suits in my wardrobe - the obstacle being my pronounced tummy. Most of these items I had bought when I was at my lowest weight of 71kg (New Years Eve 2007) determined to lose a couple of extra kilos to fit into the slightly snug garments. I wondered now, with the absence of my tummy whether these clothes would now fit? I decided to play truant from logging onto my laptop and give it a go.

To my amazement, almost without exception, every garment in my wardrobe that had been too snug a la 'sausage skin' fitted perfectly - every slinky dress, tailored pants, and stunning suit. For the next two hours I felt like a naughty little girl playing dress-up in her mother's wardrobe, but gradually this began to fade as I started to get an over whelming sense of sexiness. Finally, after all of these years I was happy with my look, my shape, and the body I saw reflected in the mirror. I caught up with Tony on instant chat that night and told him of my escapades and that he would need to soon come lingerie shopping with me - he agreed without any hesitation!

Tony and I both worked from home today and it was nice to spend some time together after the separation in the hospital. But by 4.30 Tony was ready to head off to the airport for his trip to NZ to see his grandmothers and parents. Separated once again.

This year alone we have spent more nights apart from each other (for various reasons) than in the preceding 10 years of our relationship. I'm not sure if that's due to complacency, or whether our relationship has strengthened so any distance seems to evaporate as we strive together to reach our goals. I'd like to think it's the latter.

Tony headed off and I continued to work awaiting the arrival of my parents for a visit to check up on my progress. They arrived and buzzed me to come down to let them in through the underground car park. As I entered the lift to the basement I vowed to soon be well enough to resume taking the stairs - something both my body and the environment would appreciate.

Dad then accompanied me to complete the small amount shopping that Tony had not had time to do - I was unable to carry the bags back. By the time my parents had enjoyed dinner and were ready to leave I felt well enough to accompany them back out through the basement car park to say our "farewells".

As I turned to come inside the thought of the possibility of climbing the stairs to our apartment instead of taking the lift seemed really exciting (I know that's sad) so I claimed the 10 steps of the foyer and checked the mail box. So far so good... I walked through the two sets of security doors to our lift well and pausing only momentarily, I swung the silver handle and pushed the heavy fire door to the lift well open. Here goes.

I climbed each stair in the six flights carefully, steadying myself with the balustrade, and before I knew it I was at our floor and had swung the heavy fire door open to see our front door. I had made it - success! And that meant I could push things a little further tomorrow.

Yes, I'm back in the land of the living, or at least the Internet having survived voluntarily 'going under the knife'.

For those that were in the know thanks for all your well wishes via Tony and your SMS - the smile they put on my face was much appreciated.

For those who I hadn't managed to tell, here's a little summary. Apologies in advance if I share too much - feel free to skip bits if you need to.

Following my 3 hour abdominoplasty surgery last Friday afternoon I spent 3 days in the rather quaint Vaucluse private hospital in Brunswick (really Coburg though) that has a true sense of disorganised chaos about it. I woke from surgery strapped up in a tight black body corset from waist to mid thigh (and feeling a little like Marlene Dietrich), but curious as to the show I would have been a part of as the surgery staff flung my unconscious arms and legs around getting me into the thing. The corset stays on for 4 weeks, although after the first 2 weeks I can remove it for short periods of time (Overshare Warning - yes, this means daily sponge bath).

On Sunday my surgeon, the very experienced Dr Robert Reid (30 years of surgery, 20 of that plastic surgery - boobs, bums, tums, etc.) visited to check up on me. Pleasantly surprised to find me wandering around the hospital's courtyard, he smiled as he ushered me back to my room 303 for the review. Dr Reid told me he was absolutely thrilled with the surgery - he said it couldn't have gone better - that was the good news I wanted to hear.

During the surgery they had cut through all my stomach muscles, cut off almost 2kg of excess skin and fat, and sewn the remaining bits back together, relocating my belly button in the process.
In my initial consultation I was somewhat relieved to hear that I would keep my original belly button - I rather attached to it and couldn't comprehend the faux-ness of fashioning a new one out of skin.
Dr Reid also advised me my drains could be removed on Monday before I was discharged (so I would finally be free of the awkward bottle of gunk I had to carry around since the op).

By Monday I was well and truly ready to head home, having reached a significant level of cabin fever despite spending as much time as I could bear pain-wise wandering around the hospital to keep mobile. On the up side I did manage to starve off some boredom by exploring the hospital's various units including Sleep Disorders (compete with cameras), Barometrics and Rehabilitation, the Chapel, kitchen and laundry. And I'd already explored the 4 walls of the theatre and recovery room.

The nursing staff were on the whole fantastic and supportive - Sam (from Gisborne), Gwen, Debbie and others kept me amused and informed and were pleased as punch I was so self-sufficient, making their job easier, except for poor Raj from India who very obligingly took me for a walk up the street and chatted with me about his new 3 week old son Jamie. But truly there's just something NQR about hospital food - and whilst the menus I filled in promised to be gastronomically delightful, the food proved to be various combinations of tinned and frozen goods, doused in butter, accompanied by over thickened soups and sauces with not a hit of soy milk in sight. My stomach was flip flopping and the fear of eating such food was overtaken by the need for sustenance - give me airline food any day.

Finally by 3pm the very painful process of removing my drains (that were stitched in and embedded around 20cm on each side) was finally over - despite the nurses' reluctance to remove them as Dr Reid would not be in to perform this procedure. But at my insistence, and after confirming with Dr Reid, they finally agreed. I couldn't wait to phone Tony afterwards despite the soreness and I hurriedly prepared to leave, sore and hunched over but glad to be on the mend and out of there.

Each day since the operation I've straightened a little more from my original 60+ degree hunch, today I'm around 15 degrees and determined to beat as quickly as possible Tony's loving name calling of 'old woman', 'hunch-a-lot' and 'hunch-star'. Some days are better than others - kind of the 2 or 3 steps forward, 1 step back scenario. But overall the pain is slowly subsiding - I have some really good drugs which I'm not allowed to share, much to Tony's dismay.
The worst part is my sleep is often broken, and somewhat uncomfortable at night due to the need to be propped up and my inability to lie flat (I'm using 4 pillows, 2 towels and a poof (foot stool) to get me into the right position).
Plus I'm a side sleeper so sleeping laying on my back is not something I'm used too.

The pain is gradually easing, and the itchiness gradually increasing, so recovery is going to plan, if not a little better than anyone expected.
Friday will be a good checkpoint though, a 750 metre walk each way to Dr Reid's surgery for my first real review when the first lot of stitches come out (they are progressively taken out over 4 weeks).
(Mental note to self to take lots of pain killers before walking up there).

From Monday I start returning to working in the Southgate office as I can manage it (thank God for IBM's mobile workforce policy which has allowed me to work form home as I need to).
I should be markedly better by Friday next week, after which I can start driving again.

So has it been worth the expense and the pain? .... absolutely. I'm thrilled with the results so far.

However I don't want to be flippant about undergoing such extreme surgery - it is a really big operation and a decision that took me 2 years to make.
I went into the operation having rewritten my will, knowing full well there was a small possibility that I may not make it through to the other side, or more likely that it would result in various complications that would require additional surgery or treatment, or that I wouldn't get the end result I was after. But my excess tummy skin has been a constant issue and reminder of my former physical self, it has dinted my new-found confidence and caused continued clothing difficulties as I am out of proportion (Overshare Warning - not to mention the un-comfortableness of the 'flapping' during exercise). It was an issue for me that I had no hope of ever resolving from a diet and exercise perspective - ever. And the bottom line was it made me feel physically abnormal. After all the effort I've been through and all the changes I have made to get where I am... all I strived to feel was a sense of normality. These were the driving forces behind my decision. The cost was inconsequential.

So do I feel normal?

For the first time in my life I'm starting to, but ask me again after a month's recovery and I'm sure the answer will be a resounding 'yes!'

And I'm looking forward to finally feeling a sense of physical normality around my former peers at my (30 year) high school reunion in August.

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Sigrid de Castella 2006-2008

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