Change is A-Comin'

Thursday was the day of reckoning.  I wore loose clothing, and packed a sports bra. (I don't wear them. Uni-boob = not attractive)

Don't forget the cover sheet for the TPS reports.

At 2:30 another volunteer and I sidled past the classroom full of doctors and PAs into separate treatment rooms.  I know the drill.

Ugly paper shorts, check.
Ill-fitting sports bra that enhances my back fat, check.
White socks because the floor is chilly, check.
Fashion disaster, check.

Yup, these are the shorts, only they're about 7 inches longer.

The coordinator of the program pokes her head in to make sure I'm ready. She's gorgeous. The kind of pretty you stare at when you see it in a public place. You know, the megawatt smile, well-behaved hair, and a trim, athletic build. The resident nurse and one of our top sales associates join us.

By the time the assessment phase is done, 8 people have handled my bulges, debated, and drawn on me in 6 different shades of sharpie. It wasn't bad; they're all clinical but friendly, and any awkwardness I felt at first had waned. I wasn't in a total state of comfort, but I wasn't sweating bullets either.

Meanwhile aside from the occasional question or answer, I did my best mannequin impression.

As someone with 20 extra pounds (mostly on my torso) there was quite a few sharpie marks by the time they were done

Same idea, but with a lot more sharpie.

Rather than having one large applicator across my entire belly roll, it was decided that I'd get better results if I got a smaller treatment on either side with a slight overlap.  After having seen numerous before and after shots over the past two years, I silently agreed.  In just over a year, the techniques have improved, in my opinion. I really look forward to how this would compare to my first treatment last April.

I got into the treatment chair and a cold gel pad was placed on one side.  The applicator went on easily and soon I was alone in the room with my iPad, a bottle of water, and the machine sitting like a sentry, diligently extracting the heat from my fat tissue and drowning out the sounds of the other rooms with soothing white noise.

Unlike my first treatment, there wasn't really any discomfort at all. Not even after having been handled by 8 people, which left my skin sensitive.  The hour flew by, and the applicator came off.  Once again, I had a "butter stick" of fat solidly shaped by the machine.  It was massaged for two minutes, which was not comfortable, but was easily managed with a bit of pillow to squeeze and deep breaths.

Soon after the applicator went on the other side.

That's me!

.

Despite the slight overlap at the center of my abdomen, it wasn't uncomfortable at all.
An hour later, the removal and massage was repeated.  By the time I was de-gooed and dressed, they had all left for a group dinner.

Two days later I'm a little sensitive and the sharpie is finally coming off with a bunch of 91% isopropyl alcohol.  I'm so excited to see if the use of the smaller applicators will make a difference!

Almost a year later...

I know I promised before and after pictures, but you're not going to get them, yet.
Don't be mad. Delayed gratification means a bigger reward!

90 days after my first treatment I went in for a follow-up assessment.  There was a discernible difference. Not enough for me to go to the next ComicCon in a Leia slave outfit, but enough to prove the treatment works.

To be fair, I am about 20 lbs over weight. It distributes well, but a good portion is in my midsection.  I knew going in one treatment did not a bikini model make.

That's me on the left.

 As a candidate for T2T, I knew I'd be going back. I'd need to "debulk" my belly and then the upper abs and love handles could be more accurately assessed and treated. However, due to the fact that all of this is done as part of a company benefit, there were quite a few people requesting treatment. Added to my hectic schedule, it's been a year since I could get another.

Now serving number infinity + 1

I can honestly say my original results are still evident, despite a minor weight loss and regain (+/- 7 lbs).  The treated area has a slight depression. It's not enough to be an eyesore, but as someone who's lived with this body for *mumbles* mmmphty-9 years, I can see where things change.

Tomorrow, I'm receiving another assessment and a cycle (or 2?) as we have expanded our corporate offices into a facility that instructs our clients (the doctors) on the most effective techniques for assessment and use of the differing sized applicators.  As I'd like to really be an advocate for our product, I'm going to be a guinea pig.

Someone's gotta do it!

As my photos were already re-taken last week, I don't have to go through that again. Instead, I'll be scrutinized by several coworkers, and, oh yeah, 5 or 6 really well reputed plastic surgeons and dermatologists from around the country. You know, those people that make a living scrutinizing the physical flaws of other people? No worries, though. I know for a fact they've seen worse than me. 

"The good news is, you're not hideous!"

I'm wondering what the results will be this time, as the area has already been treated before. And will a year between treatments make a difference?

The first treatment, YAY!

April 26th

All rights reserved. 'Cause I made her myself.

Ever notice how cute chubby cheeked kids have ridiculously adorable dimples?  Well, I learned that sometimes those dimples were caused by kids sticking Popsicle in their mouths, tucked into their cheeks.  Just the thought makes my teeth hurt.  Anyway, the frozen treat made the fat cells die in a local area, causing an indenture.  Some pretty smart scientists put two and two together and started experimenting.  Or something like that.  Go to the website. It explains it more scientifically. I'm just spewing out an anecdotal and not remotely fact-checked explanation that I listened to with half an ear while I wondered what flavor Popsicle the kid was eating.

So today I got the first procedure.  I say first because we've recently launched a new campaign called Treatment to Transformation or T2T.  It posits that if you get results with one treatment, you can get improved results with multiple treatments in one or more areas.  It makes sense to me.  I've seen the photos. All are anonymous and reduced my body shame when I saw others with similar bulges.

I took a late lunch hour, and went over to the clinic.  After warm greetings and a little gossip talk, I went to the ladies room, and then was given a pair of paper shorts to wear. They were big enough to use as a parachute and were to be worn well below my navel.  I'd have been more attractive in rollers and a worn bathrobe. They were stiff and had misplaced "pleats" from being folded and vacuum packed.  I felt like I was wearing the outer lining of a maxi pad from the 70's all over my hips, thighs and and knees. Billowing out from my sides, they made a sound like breeze on a canvas tarp when I walked. They were the Anti-Sexy. 

I was led reluctantly into a photo studio. I had instant flashbacks to Olan Mills sessions that my parents dragged me and my siblings to when we were younger. I got a fancy-pants sticker on my upper abs that really added to the ensemble while simultaneously labeling the photos. Form, fashion, and function!  After tucking my tank top up into my bra to show as much of my shame as possible, I stood in several poses at 5 different angles, modelling those fashion backward shorts.  I promise to add those pictures but not until after the results start to show.  No one really wants to see that anyway.  It looks like uncooked dough spilling out of an unforgiving loaf pan. 

I skulked back to my treatment room, and was measured, marked up with a chilly and tickly Sharpie for placement accuracy.  I laid down on the totally swanky chair that looked like a dentist's chair had fallen in love with an expensive leatherette recliner and made an IKEA worthy chair-child that had grown up to work in a doctor's office.  A very cold slab of goo was placed on the treatment area of my lower abs.  It prevents over cooling of the skin, and helps provide a better suction seal.  The Dalek-like machine to my left was humming away in a monotonous high pitched tone. The thick umbilical coming off of it hung from a rack and at the end was the large applicator.  After very careful placement, the machine sucked my gut into the applicator.  It has clear sides, so I got a good gander at my flesh molding to the inside.  I was reminded of those old Play-doh extruders and wondered if the suction got strong enough, would my flab ooze out the other side in a star shaped tube?

The suction was tight, but not painful.  After a support pillow was put around the applicator I was propped up a bit. This caused a bit of a problem as the suction seal was lost.  I hypothesize my short torso caused the problem when I sat up.  After having the applicator reapplied, I stayed on my back.  There was a very short period of negligible discomfort while the temperature lowered and the pressure of my gut being squeezed held my attention.  Here's where my ADD became a help.  My phone was handy and I got involved in decimating my opponents playing Words With Friends, and I stopped noticing the discomfort.  After scoring 62 points with 3 letters I realized the cold had caused the area to numb enough that the discomfort was pretty much gone.  Sure the applicator wasn't feather light, and having half of my belly in a vacuum wasn't a massage at the spa, but considering the possible results, it was not a big deal.

After an hour, the machine beeped and the humming shushed to a stop.  The applicator was gently removed, which was the oddest feeling. My tummy was numb and cold simultaneously, and yet I felt a very weird pressure and toe-curling sensation as it popped out looking like an angry red, gooey stick of butter.  I guess that was a good thing because all in attendance made appreciative noises of approval.  The only real part that was uncomfortable came next.  In order for the procedure to be most effective, the treated area had to be massaged firmly.  For those of you who've had a vaginal childbirth delivery, it's very similar to what the nurses do after the baby has been born.  They rub your uterus through your stomach like Nurse Ratched trying to give you a Swedish massage by pushing through a mattress with her thumbs - there's a lot of pressure and it doesn't tickle.  Sure, you want to punch someone about 30 seconds in, but keep your cool for the whole two minute massage and then the discomfort ends.

As per the sheet that comes with the after care, I have some of the post treatment symptoms.  The area was numb for a few hours, and red.  Once the numbness wore off, it's very sensitive to the touch.  Even gently swiping at the Sharpie marks with an alcohol swab to remove the ink is uncomfortable (it comes off very easily that way, even out of clothing - you're welcome!).  Clothing is okay if it's soft and somewhat loose.  Swelling of the area is normal, and so now, 12 hours later, I look like I've swallowed a cantaloupe. Once I got home and changed out of my jeans, the sensitivity and discomfort subsided.  I did have mild nausea all day, which is somewhat common, but it did not interfere with my (bad) eating habits.  Also, I was slightly shaky and had to eat some lean protein, although I don't know if that's related.

I'll look like I'm seriously bloated for up to a few weeks, but at least I know that going in.  I'll just tell people I'm smuggling balloons until it subsides.

The assessment

April 25th 2013

About a little over a year ago I was a temp looking for a job.  Armed with 10+ years of experience, a gut full of butterflies and a loyal-to-the-teeth network of friends and previous co-workers, I was offered a job opportunity via OfficeTeam. I'd worked internally for the parent company, Robert Half, and had somehow impressed them during my tenure there. I was a "proven performer"; a candidate that had been placed before and had done well enough that I could be trusted in a position not so easy to fill. In short, they think I rock.

Totally accurate Bistrip of me. Except my drums are pink. And dusty from lack of use.

As any pretentious good candidate will do, I researched the company at which I was to interview.  ZELTIQ Aesthetics (shameless plug: www.coolsculpting.com) was intriguing from the first page. There was a machine that could extract heat from fat cells, (cryolypolysis) thereby causing fat cell death (apoptosis), which your body would then naturally process, without surgery, and without general anesthesia, without real downtime, without damaging other tissue, and could be done on a long lunch hour?!  Why hadn't I heard of this before? Does it really work? Is there pain? Who cares? It's cheaper than lypo and I'm lazy and broke - not really, well, sort of.

I guess my enthusiasm and curiosity served me well, and I started assisting the new CFO within a week.  In that position, I've gotten a good overview not just of the medical device industry in general, but also in the aesthetics industry.  There are a few non-surgical fat reduction options out there, many as new, or newer than Coolsculpting (insert trademark symbol here, and imply it at all other mentions of the procedure).  I realize it's biased to say so, but the others seemed to fall short, both due to loyalty to my employer, and to the independent research I'd done for hours after work crawling around the web.

I'm so enthusiastic about it, that I've talked about it extensively. To family. To friends. At parties. To strangers that wonder who I am and why I'm talking about it while waiting in line for a bathroom stall. But everyone has asked me, "Did you do it?" and "What is it like?" and  "Does it work?"  I knew it produced results, we couldn't legally make claims without research, the FDA has approved it, and we wouldn't have reputable doctors with successful practices as repeat customers if it didn't. I've seen pages and pages and pages of before and after pictures.  But I couldn't honestly comment on the procedure experience.  I'd spoken with others who'd had done it, but all my answers to those outside the company were second-hand regurgitations of what I'd been told.  A "friend told me..." or "those I've spoken to have said..."

I don't think she believes me. Must be that little fib I told her about how vegetables taste like ice cream...

People are reluctant to believe such things when they don't know the person that gave the information.  Reliable sources are only as reliable as their reputation. And if the person is unknown, most wise folks take such claims with a grain of salt.

 *Tangent!* Who clicks on those blinky flashy ads on hinky sites anyway?! "Lose ten pounds in 5 minutes with this one weird trick!" Don't do it! They'll give you viruses and you'll get the blue screen of death, right after they spam your entire contact list, and then the $39.99 you paid for the "trick" will get you some nasty ass vinegar and oatmeal recipe that you have to consume at 3:00am Eastern Standard Time every other Tuesday, unless it's a leap year. And when it doesn't work, they'll ignore you when you try to contact "customer service",  steal your credit card number, rape your bank account and laugh. Sounds like a trick to me, too. *End Tangent!*

When the opportunity arose for me to have the procedure, I jumped at it.  I'm early middle-aged, have had three children, and despite eating fairly well, and exercising (not really) regularly, I'm fighting the spare tire paunch that haunts so many of us.  As a woman, I've always been self-conscious about what I look like.  I'm short, my behind is quite round, I have spindly calves, my elbows are dry, my fingers are awkward, one eyebrow is thinner than the other, my pores are cavernous, my eyelids are starting to sag...etc.  Add to that the fact that I work with some SERIOUSLY attractive people, 2 of which I've dubbed the Glamazon Twins as they're younger, thinner, taller and in really good shape - I look like a Hobbit standing beside two Galadriels. Here was an opportunity to make a dent in that formidable hill of my physical self-esteem.

This is what Disneyland looks like to people my height. (slight exaggeration - maybe)

My assessment went smoothly.  I know the people that work in the clinic fairly well as I've worked with them previously. I filled out a metric ton of paperwork that assessed my medical health, history, and habits.

I was measured for the procedure, as different issues require different applicator sizes.  Lucky me (not), my muffin-top spare tire required the largest applicator.  "This is nicely rounded, it should get a good draw." Sounds like a compliment, but really it just meant my gut was big enough that it would easily fill a very large suction device...

After the assessment, I was told I'd be contacted for an appointment, and I went back to work, both mortified and hopeful.