About Me

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Haifa, Israel
Divorced and independent and still looking for Mr. Right in the back of the fridge.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Horizontal Stripes

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Yesterday I almost bought a shirt with horizontal stripes. 

"Almost" being the operative word here, it's not fair to buy Horizontal Stripes without a nod to my readers.  However few you may be, you are loyal.

I soon celebrate 3 months of Gastric Sleeve surgery. At 17 kilos lighter (multiply by 2.2 for pounds), I am on the path I sought: the path of renewal, of re-affirmation, of re-defining, of re-organizing, of re-thinking. 

As heroic as it all sounds, it comes with re-prisals, re-grets, re-jection, re-tardation, and re-ally shitty moments.


  • I am thinking of changing the format of this blog, but that comes with a sense of failure about the present format. Why do I have 18,670 views and only 11 followers?
  • I am thinking about giving up my shop Carmel Gifts. Why do my competitors do so well with such ugly sites and spelling errors until kingdom come and I have only sporadic orders?
  • Why doesn't anyone click through my links to Amazon so that I can earn a few extra pennies?
  • Why don't any of the dating sites yield dates? We should rename them write-to-handsome-men-my-own-age-and-get-no-answer sites.
Take all the complaints and keep in mind that I only have 20% of a stomache. Comfort eating is no longer an option. (Read my last post...)

True, I'm already lookin' pretty hot, but damn I miss Ben and Jerry.

I now go to the gym and dare to choose a treadmill in front of the mirror. 
I now look good in jeans.
I now am DYING to run into an ex boyfriend.
I keep humming "...and Suzie wore here sweaters tight..." (Kudos to my kids who bought me tix to Elton John).

These 17 kilos in less than 3 months are only a fraction of the weight loss I can expect, only the start to actually enjoying life. 

So here we go, daring to do something different with the blog, and posting a picture of myself before and now.

And thanks for listening to me whine. I promise to be funnier in my next post.
Left, the day before surgery. Right, a week ago. Middle, somewhere in between.


Thursday, October 22, 2015

A Large Salad Please



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Counting down to the 11th of November, the day I go under the knife, the most drastic exclamation that I have got to embrace eating to live instead of living to eat. 

I will look forward to my croutons on a salad instead of my ice cream in a ladle.

Gastric sleeve surgery will give me the kick start I am looking for to lose weight. 

I leave the quantifying of weight loss to the skinny people. I expect to shed at least the equivalent of a 4th grader in the first few months. 

This is how much weight I eventually want to lose:

  1. I can cross my legs under a table.
  2. I can throw on a pair of jeans.
  3. I don't dread living rooms with deep cushiony sofas.
  4. I hope to run into an ex boyfriend.
  5. I can wear panty hose more than once.
  6. I can wear horizontal stripes (!)
  7. I don't break beach chairs.
  8. I wear a belt as an accessory.
  9. I wear clunky shoes and still look thin.
  10. My butt crack does not contine up my back.
And so on and so forth. 

Hmmm. Flesh out (pun intended) the story behind each  of the above and I've got a damn good best seller on my hands....

For now, this is me not eating the brownies my daughter smelled up the kitchen with.

I'll let you know if they survive the night. 


Monday, October 12, 2015

"Houston, We Have a Problem" or Chapter 3 in my Journey to Lose Weight

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October 4th 2015, 12:49. 
Houston, come in. We have a problem.

111.10 kilos buck naked. Maximum payload exceded. Requesting go-ahead for emergency protocol.

*** Copy, Voyager. Commence emergency protocol***

Roger, Houston. Preparations commencing to shed excess. Commencing ice cream drain-off.

***Roger, Voyager. Rocky Road relocated to Milky Way. Continue. Over***

Copy. Commencing Carb ejection. 

***Copy, Voyager. Got that on radar. Re-directing carbs to training camps for safe use. Over.***

Roger, Houston. Emergency Protocol completed. Ice Cream and Carbs ejected. Taking over controls. Overriding auto-pilot. 

***Negative on that Voyager. ***

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Houston.Repeat. ice cream and carbs ejected, we can handle it from here. Relinquish controls. Over.

***Negative. Voyager. You can't handle shit. One minute without ice cream and carbs and you think you are safe. Confirm final weight and will consider relinquishing the vessel to your control. Over"

Shit, Houston. Over.

***Houston will continue monitoring your payload, Voyager. Over and Out."

Affirmative Houston. Thanks for watching my back. Over and Out.
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I wish I had a dozen thin tied men watching monitors 24/7, protecting me from myself.

For lack of that, I have a doctor who is about to cut away part of my stomach and a team of cheer leaders rooting for my victory over temptation. 

Maybe they will all be proud of me and eventually I will be proud of myself.