Oh we are gonna nail this recovery out of spite.

I’m starting to get a little pissed at everyone’s lack of faith in how I will recover from these surgeries (tummy tuck and arm lift). Everyone’s like “who’s going to take care of you!” — yall, I’M MARRIED. Listen, Mr C plays video games 24/7. We know yall think he’s a bum. But it’s not like he’s gonna ignore my recovery needs. He has been to my appointments with me. He knows I’ll need help getting up from the chair and going to the bathroom and that I won’t be able to pick up even the cat. We’ve discussed that he’ll have to help me with the cats medications. I’ll have to teach him how to put on my compression garments. He’s not a fucking moron. I’m not an infant, I’m still a human that can yell “hey, I have to go to the bathroom.” But my family and his have just acted like he’s useless and I’m getting fucking pissed. Even his momma was like “who’s gonna take care of you!?”

Yall, we’re gonna nail this recovery out of spite at this point. You’re not just questioning my husband at this point, you’re questioning my decision making and planning and I kinda feel like my choice of husband at this point. I’m insulted. Yes, my sister-in-law is going to come up for the first week — but that’s because I’ll be 100% helpless and Mr C will still be working from home. I don’t want to wake him up in the middle of the night and have him help me get up and walk every 2 hours because he needs to rest for work and he’s having a rough time at work right now. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t handle this by ourselves if we had to.

My sister even suggested I recover down there (1.5 hours away). NO. You can’t even take care of yourself, what are you taking about? And yeah, having your giant untrained dog trying to jump in my OPEN WOUND LAP would be fantastic. And having to dodge her with a walker — no problem! What the fuck are yall thinking?

Listen, this is rude — but lesser people than I have had this surgery. Fucking morons that wonder if they should still be in pain 2 weeks later have had this shit done (Oh no, they just cut you in half and sewed you back together! You’re in pain? SHOCKER). People with small children have had this done. People with no support have had this done. We’ve got this.

I’m renting a medical power lift recliner that will help me stand up. I’m renting a walker. I’ll have multiple types of compression garments. I have time to prep. It’s not like I cook gourmet dinners every night. Mr C can make me some eggs or put some meatballs in the microwave for me. And we have friends who could make me some chicken if I ask.

I know it’s going to be miserable hell. I expect this. I’ve seen videos of lots of women who have video logged their journey. Some are peppy and up after 1 week, some are in hell after one week. No idea where I will fall on that spectrum. But I’m strong, yall. I’m not a pussy. I think the hardest part is going to be mental. It’s going to be me restraining myself. It’s going to be me asking for help and waiting for that help rather than just doing it myself and ripping open a stitch in the process.

I also think this crazy crossfit is going to benefit me a lot. One, my body is healing faster and faster after each workout. Two, my squats have gone from using a 24inch box, to a 16 inch bench to a 12 inch box to nothing. That leg strength will really help while my core is out of commission. I’m not even jinxing this by saying it — I got this. You have no idea how much I’ve done under the power of anger and spite alone. I got this. WE got this.