I felt good, I had chosen my type of surgery and I had found my surgeon. There was no doubt in my mind. I didn't feel the need to look into others. Any further research I did was on the process itself. Youtube has a wide array of videos of people willing to share their day-to-day experiences; I found them most helpful and enlightening in the ensuing weeks. One in particular was the actual surgery itself as seen by the surgeons. It was fascinating to me. Even though I know it is not, by any means easy, it looked pretty simple. It was amazing to me how anyone ever figured out to do this. Who comes up with this stuff? Truly remarkable.
In the next few days after my consultation I did a lot of soul searching about all of this. And in asking myself many questions I had this feeling come out of nowhere that was so foreign to me. For the first time, possibly ever I felt this strong feeling of love for myself. I had never felt that before. It didn't last that long, but I felt like I was caring for myself. A stark change from my usually self-battery of what an undesirable I am for being overweight. The truth was, I had given this condition way too much air time. Yes, it's horrible but in recent years, I had made it larger than life.
With an iron-clad conviction I lived my life thinking I was completely unlovable, and most importantly by me. It's that unique self-hatred that comes with being overweight. After all it was confirmed. I had been rejected in dating situations many times. I got so used to it, I could spot it a mile away. I say this not with anger but with understanding. In many ways, I get it. Our society is so conditioned to think of being fat as a fate worse than death - for many reasons. There is so much attention and reverence given to outside qualities, beauty, weight, wealth. Heart and compassion get hidden behind this veneer of designer silk and sculpted sick-pack bodies. We all drink the Kool-Aid. I did. I believed that the person I was, meant nothing against what I looked like. I didn't like, hated in fact this body that is me at all times. I can't separate myself from it. It holds 47 years of all my feelings, experiences, talents, convictions, insights, beliefs, wishes, fears, most of all love. I either needed to find a way to accept it or change it. The catapulting reason for my decision were the diseases that lie ahead of me if I continue being obese.
I am a big believer that we make our own reality. I had nothing or no one to blame but myself for what I had become. I was very sad, silently wishing someone would notice the good in me. I have a lot to offer, I am a very loving, caring individual, I have talents, I am not a bad looking woman, I have a great sense of humor, am relatively intelligent, why can't anyone see that?? The real question was, why can't I see it?? It is something I will forever need to work on. I know it in my head, I don't feel it in my heart. I trashed all of those qualities and made this fat body, king of my world. I consider myself a logical person, but this was quite twisted. I therefore have to get myself somehow to a different reality. Probably the hardest thing ever. Forever being miss independent, it took the simple suggestion of my doctor to look at this option of asking for this kind of help. For me who is always thinking and analyzing, it was a real "duh" moment.
Putting that kind of trust in a another human being is huge. You life is in their hands. I would be counting on this individual help me change my reality. He never lost a patient and I was not about to be his first. I do believe that at your moments of need; big important challenges you face, the universe gives you who and what you need. Anyone who struggles with weight knows the pain and absolute shame that accompanies it. Day to day I lived around it. Disconnected from it. Feared it. Hated it, and hated myself. It's an extremely tough nut to crack. Years of somewhat mediocre living strengthens that shell and in turn perpetuates it.
Now I was being given the opportunity to make a different reality. Bring it on.
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