Just when Mother was all set for WLS, one her knees goes gimp on her – she’s had both knees replaced.  It was bad, she couldn’t move, we had to bring the wheelchair in – everyone was freaked.  

Back in jr. high Mother was on disability because she had no cartilage left in either knee and bone was rubbing against bone.  It wasn’t the best of times; she was in a lot of pain, depressed and forced to use a wheelchair.  Now image a pubescent girl (a pubescent fat girl) clearly juggling her own issues and forced to take care of her Mother while Dad was on the road.

Yeah, good times and noone wants to go back, although obviously we’ve all clearly evolved quite a bit.

And so we were operating in high stress level for the past two weeks.  We’re fortunate to have a wonderful physician who listens to us and actually gives us options – I know, what a concept.  Our doctor recommended a surgeon in Fremont who specializes in these kinds of cases and even does “redoes”, which is something we were prepared for.  

Of course it’s always what you never ever would expect.  You know the lil hollow near each of our kneecaps?  Because of her weight and our annoying healthiness, her body has been growing bone over that area to support her.  So this is why it gets out of whack and literally pokes her if she’s in the wrong position.  But seriously, who the hell has ever heard of that?

ME: What?  It’s like you’re regenerating?  You think if we cut off a limb it would grow back?

MOTHER: It might.  You try first.

We do go to Fresno Tuesday to see Dr. Swartz.  Our physician said to keep that appointment and get the surgery as soon as possible.  The quicker we get that weight off, the better she’ll be.

Ya know I watched The Biggest Loser in the beginning, even exercised while it was on, but over time it increasingly became a big annoyance.  I really wanted the skinny spawn of Hitler to drop dead or better yet suddenly wake up to an extra 200 plus pounds.  The gay trainer guy was less of a Nazi, but still exceedingly annoying.  They talked to these people as though they were mentally challenged children.  Suggesting things like, “Read the labels on products.”  Well no shit?  Why if I’d thought of that guess I wouldn’t be fat.  Then of course turning eating into a dire sin: Thou shalt not eat dark meat.  Thou shalt not ever have dressing on a salad.  Thou shalt order a burger with nothing on it, including the bun.  Basically according to the trainers you could go to a restaurant, order a glass of water and lettuce leaf to lick.  It became really, really disturbing and tedious and for once I grew tired of screaming at the television.

Be careful what you wish for.  All my whining about not having someone to hang with on Christmas came back to bitchslap me good.  I am now juggling a few men.  I have moved up in the world as our front runner for the moment is a lawyer.  Although I’ve yet to meet him I’m nearly certain he’s not a transgender (Sorry did I ever tell ya the story about the transgender law student?  No?  Well another day perhaps).  Anyways he has two law offices so if you can imagine this guy is incredibly busy.  I email him throughout the day and many a time around eleven at night the poor guy is still in the office.  He is 45 but youngins have started to annoy me and I feel more comfortable around the late 30’s, early 40’s.  The problem with that lies in that an older man is already to get married and knock me up and we ain’t havin that yet.  The plan for our first date is to run out, start a secret society and get matching tattoos – so far noone has yet to top this.