Flashback

Written in 2010:
Tomorrow I go in for my pulmonary consult concerning bariatric surgery. I don’t know what to expect, so I’m a little nervous. Will it be like a gyno exam and I have to get undressed or worse? I have a feeling that as things start to move on and I get closer to that surgery date, I’m going to have to explain my decisions to people around me. I already get the impression from my friends that they think I’m doing it for the weight. It hurts to think that my friends feel I’m that shallow or even that vain I’m going to put my life at risk for this.

My family has a history of obesity related diseases. You name it, we have it. It’s even killed a few of us, my aunt on my father’s side being the latest victim. My mother was recently diagnosed with diabetes and my parents have dealt with high cholesterol and high blood pressure for the better part of 10 years. And at the age of 28, my doctor put me on blood pressure medicine. That really drove it home for me. How can I be 28 and have the same disease as my parents? How does that really work? On top of that, the doctor tells me that I’ll be a high risk pregnancy if/when I do get pregnant. That would be fun. Can’t wait to have to find an OB that would even touch me with a ten-foot pole once they found out my issues and challenges. Weeee!!!! Not only that, it’s harder at this weight to even get pregnant, so that’s a hurdle I would have to either jump over or climb under. Either way, a hurdle I don’t really want to face. I’ve done the diets my whole life. Nothing worked. Not that I really cared, because I loved who I was and am. Every time I looked in the mirror, I loved what I saw. Loved that I could eat what I wanted, when I wanted, without really having to worry about having to fit into that size six dress or wonder if some guy was only after my body or something stupid like that. Let me put this out there so there is no confusion:

I LOVE BEING A BIG GIRL! LOVE IT WITH NO RESERVATIONS. I FEEL SEXY WHEN I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND WHEN I GET DRESSED. I’M ONE OF THE FEW BIG GIRLS WHO LOVE TO SHOP. LOVE IT LIKE IT WAS CAKE. DON’T PLAY!

Now that I’ve settled that, let’s move onto the meat of the situation. I may love being big, but my body is starting to say enough. It’s tired, run down and starting to fall apart. Sometimes…okay a lot of the times…my heart skips a few beats. Just…skips a beat and it feels like I’m having a heart attack. Other times, I can’t get up the stairs without taking a break at the landing, my heart racing so fast I think I’m going to puke. Do I exercise? I try but the meds my Dr. has me on have me feeling like I’m drunk 85% of the time and I can barely get up the energy to put on socks, much less tie my shoes and get out the door. My father told me in an offhand kind of way that his father had died of terminal high blood pressure, that they couldn’t get it down no matter what. The meds that would work for me can’t since I’m still able to have kids and I plan to…maybe. I just know that this is not what I signed up for when I wanted to be plus-sized. Its fun and I love it, but the side effects are killing me…literally. It may seem like a cope out, but since I’ve been heavy my whole life with no breaks or let ups…I’m ready for something different. I can’t keep going like this. It may sound like excuses but they aren’t. They are my reasons and I have thought long and hard on this. Weighed the pros and cons and weighed them again for good measure. This is not like when I got my breast reduction because my mother wanted it, without thinking of how it would affect me.

I have to take charge of my life and this is it. Will sacrifices have to be made? Yes…BIG ones that I may have a hard time doing. Decisions that I won’t be able to take back. Situations that I may not be ready to handle, but that’s what being an adult is about. Accepting that there are things in life you have to do to make things better. I’m hoping that I don’t lose my friends on the process and I won’t…if they are my friends. I just know that I don’t want to be 35 and having a heart attack. That would suck cuz I hate those hospital gowns. I really do.