Hi. I’m Martha Maggio and I have problems.

Today is the day. I see the doctor one last time before WLS (in two weeks) and I won’t eat normal food for about 1-2 months. I’m already hungrier than I’ve ever been.

I started the liquid diet last Monday and it did not go well. I was tempted many times and had already resolved to eat on Thanksgiving. By Sunday, I had at least lost a few pounds, but I was still eating solid foods about once a day.

I didn’t have to start the diet last week, but I knew I needed to ease into this process. No more excuses. I have to start today. I have not eaten anything so far and I feel sad. Really sad. Tired. Really tired. And hungry. Really hungry. Hangry even. My life without food so far is pretty dismal. There is nothing to look forward to and there is nothing to celebrate. I don’t know who I am without food.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I could DO a million things but when you’re an addict, the most interesting thing to do when you can’t have your fix is to think about having it. At least for me.

If I was eating…what would I eat?
What is she eating??
I wonder what that tastes like?
I bet they’re enjoying that.

It’s kinda sick. It’s torture. It’s the next best thing to eating-thinking about eating. But IT could be sex, drinking, getting high, working out, overworking, shopping, gambling, lying. What’s your sweet torture?

Every time I want to eat I think about this though-I give my liver a voice. That’s the reason I’m on this liquid diet to begin with. It’s a liver-reduction diet so the doctor can get to that big ol’ stomach underneath my big ol’ fatty liver. My liver’s voice is this, “You can’t have anything that will hurt me, Martha. Not alcohol, not fats, not sugar, not anything that I can’t handle. Gimme a break. Don’t make it hard on the doc.” (Watch Sugar Coated and you’ll see what happens to your liver when you have too much bad stuff! I call it “the liver quivers”.) I’ve even given my liver a name, Oliver. Har. Okay, Ollie, I won’t hurt you.

I want this surgery. And I don’t want to make it more difficult for the surgeon. I want a swanky, svelte liver so he can get at my stomach. I’ve heard horror stories about being cut open and being refused stomach surgery because of the inability to get to the stomach. So all of the dieting and cutting and none of the benefits!

Oh my friggin’ Lord God in heaven, no! Nightmare! Please, God, no!

I know they don’t tell me to do these things to punish me. They want me to be successful. So, as much as I want to have that leftover slice of Prime Cut Minsky’s pizza in the fridge, I won’t. I can taste the bacon and cheese. The cold, greasy triangle of love. The spice of the sauce. The satisfying chew. The hard swallow followed by a cold soda or glass of milk.

Eating is my favorite thing in the world and I have to learn to live without it. Today is the day.

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