Superlardaliciousgrotescumongousbesasaurouslyfattitacularogroposus Obesity

Yes, it should be a word!  I am so superlardaliciouslygrotescumongousbesasaurouslyfattitacularogroposusly overweight that my skin is peeling, no lie!!  The stretched skin on my abdomen and massive breasts is actually peeling lightly, kind of what you'd get from a light sunburn.  Sure, I realize that swelling might be making some tiiiiiiiiny contribution to the peeling, but I assert that most of the cause is pure superlardaliciousness.  It is only logical that Boxhead would be getting fatter by the day from not exercising...I'm beginning to contemplate scheduling some thigh and butt lipo even before the recovery from the current surgery is over.

Today was fun though, and the first day that I felt a little more mobile.  First Boxhead had the weekly iron shot...fun.  A nice wide bore-needle of viscous iron serum into the butt.  As if the rest of me isn't bruised enough.  Even my doctor makes jokes about Boxhead having a "man that likes some rough loving" because of the the perpetual injection bruising on my butt.  A fatty like me needs huge amounts of iron to survive though, despite the fact that I'm constantly snarfing down sides of beef, prime ribs and other products of similar meaty goodness.  The only way to keep up with the iron demands of a body of this girth is through injections.  As Boxhead has no intention of showing her perma-bruised butt, here's a picture of the needle!

From there it was off to have my glorious hair done, a bi-weekly process to nurture Boxhead's soul and ensure that no roots are EVER visible.  Nothing tackier than roots.  And yes Angels, Boxhead is willing to show pictures of almost anything except her bruised butt and in-process hair coloring.

After my hair was done I carried on the day's adventure by trying on bras to see what size was needed to contain my cartoonishly mammoth breasts at this stage of their swelling. They will go down to a proper, normal size in another two weeks or so, but for now they're entertaining. I'm used to the kind of bras that don't really have cups so much, just a vague suggestion of potential unflatness to the area where a cup would be.  Now I'm choosing bras that could be used as a cunning new missile defense system, or a hangar for Air Force I.  These things are HUGE.

Boxhead has never been able to have pretty, fancy bras because they just don't make them in -AA.  Bra designers totally snub the less-than-A-cup people (and boxes).  Now the whole world of bra splendor is open to me!  They're so pretty.  The C's seem far too big though, and even the B cups look like a whole lot of bra, so I grabbed several 34Bs and a few 34Cs and headed for the changeroom.  Ha!! the B cups that looked so big can't begin to contain the overflowing abundance of breast.  Not a chance.  Fail.  There's a lot of variation across the size of the C-cup bras, but still. Fail, other than one.  Red-faced, I slink out to gather D-cups...I can't actually ask a shopgirl for something that large.  These ones fit.  I know its swelling, but I'M A D-CUP.  It has been well established that I am a superfattie, but D-cup breasts are cartoonishly behemoth even on my lardassed frame.  Unimaginable. 

Noting that this is NOT the final size, here for amusement are some pictures of Boxhead wearing D's.  Prettier than the surgical bra, no?  Excuse the peekthroughs of surgical tape, but this is after all a surgical blog.

Naturally, it is hard to tell how much of this is swelling, how much is fat, and how much is the metabolic impact of the Doritos mashed with creme soda that I had for breakfast. 

It was windy today, so I wore jeans.  I was afraid to put them on, thinking that they wouldn't fit over the compression binder and the post-op swelling and the failure would make me feel even fatter.  Now jeans to me means waist size 240, not the teeny little sizes that the rest of you wear.  They DID fit though, and easily!!! The binder might be uncomfortable as all hell (although less every day), but it does compress all my fat into some kind of shape and make it possible to put on jeans even over the swelling.  Yay!  I may get used to it, and then need to wear those pretty corset / waist cincher things all the time once my time with binder garment draws to a close.

Other than bra shopping, I didn't bother looking at much else.  70% off sales do nothing for Boxhead.  If I didn't want something at full price, I surely to God don't want it when its been pawed over, marked down, and is almost out of season anyway.  Bring on the spring merchandise Babies, Boxhead is going to have the body for it.

So, then it was time for coffee, and then home.  I was out for HOURS.  My first real lengthy excursion since the surgery.

Boxhead will be at home for New Year's Eve.  While I love all other occasions for parties there are few things more revolting than midnight kisses from unknown freaks.  I can't stand being touched by strangers, let alone kissed.  Unpleasant.  Plus, the whole New Year's thing is lame...the resolutions, the starting over.  I resolve to be myself in 2011, unchanged other than by surgery.  I love me, so why change?

Love yourselves too Angels and Happy New Year.  The surgical tape comes off next week, and then we can begin with proper post-op photography.

Boxhead