I hate that they were right.
And I regret that I didn't listen.
Diet after diet - it just kind of gets depressing. All you read about is how if you just exercise and diet enough, you will lose the weight (thanks Biggest Loser). To a degree that is true. Now dropping 20lbs in a diet/exercise mode is easy. I have done it so many times - it's kind of sad. But it's after the 20lbs that gets me frustrated. The diet seems to stop working. Again. And again. Some call it a plateau - but I don't. For a person my size, losing 20lbs is not a plateau - it's just a drop in the bucket. It appears that my body doesn't like change. Big surprise there - neither does my mind or heart. I guess that's the problem.
I have always been pretty sure about where I come from and where I want to go. I have a loving husband. Awesome kids. My parents and siblings all love me and have been very supportive of me. But it's what they don't say to me...because it's too painful and I don't want to hear. And they don't lecture me because they love me. They know that if they say too much, I will probably collapse - along with the fine house of cards that I have been carefully building for appearance sake. It isn't a ready topic for discussions at family get-togethers or reunions. But I am very aware it's there. I feel it when I hug somebody. I see it in a friend's eyes who hasn't seen me since my pre-baby days. I see the worry on my parents face, as they know what kind of life (or the lack thereof) lies ahead for me. And what about my poor supportive husband, who just wants me to be healthy? He gets the pleasure of walking a really fine line between being my support coach and being a little too supportive, which I then turn into criticism. But just because no one talks about it, doesn't mean it isn't there. The fact remains the same.
I am the elephant in the room.
Everyone has faults, black skeletons hidden deep away in a dark closet of choices. Not everyone wears those faults for world to see. But mine? Mine is right out there, screaming to anyone who looks. I AM FAT! (Which unfortunately translates to most as I AM FAT BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP EATING AND I AM LAZY). Now honestly, strangers, or those who have never had to understand what it is truly like to be overweight (I am not just talking about the being-pregnant-kind of overweight here) - what they think and how they judge people like me really doesn't bother me too deeply. In their defense, they just don't know. They don't know me. And they don't know all my struggles.
But my friends and family? Now that's a different story. It's completely opposite actually. I very much care about what my loved ones think and how they feel about me. What's interesting is I find myself trying to justify my current weight and my efforts to change it every chance I get. Whether it's me telling them about this diet I have started, an awesome exercise routine I found, or my on-going battle with PCOS - I always try to make it sound like I am trying fix my problem. Why? Guilty conscience. I know what I have done. I know I have let them down. I have let my kids down. I have let myself down. And I am failing at trying to fix it.
Feeling like a failure, and being reminded so with every look in the mirror, doesn't do good for one's well-being. It wears on a person. Literally. At what point did I wake up and realize that the person staring back at me in the mirror wasn't me? Sure, I recognized the chubby checks, brown hair, and the not so funny laugh-lines. But the eyes? Something was different about the eyes. Ah, yes. They were different. Dull. Transparent. Hopeless. Full of disappointment and embarrassment. Where did the spark go? Where was my spunk? My feisty-ness had done got up and left. And found myself emotionally hiding behind a wall of white, fluffy fat. How is it that a body can get bigger and a heart get smaller at the same time?
I have no answers, and probably won't for sometime. What I do know, is that it's time. It's a battle to feel good about one's self when in constant defeat. These battles are obviously taking their toll. Enough is enough. I miss me. And I miss my life. So, I enlisted in the battle of all battles. It's gonna be epic. And I am ready for epic.
On December 1st, I had gastric bypass surgery. It was a decision 5 years in the making. Yes, 5 years from the time I got the information from the insurance until the time I took the plunge. It took me that long to realize that I am okay. I am okay to ask for help. And I am not alone. It was a nerve-racking decision to make. But I did it. And I feel great. Let me be clear - I know gastric bypass is not a cure. It is just a tool. I know that there will be a lot of healing taking place over the next 1 1/2 years. Oh how my soul aches for some healing.
Of course, there has been some nay-sayers about the surgery. (It would be very immature of me to stick my tongue out and say pstubshhsshhst to them, wouldn't it?) There will always those - and quite frankly, I am used to being judged. They don't know me. They don't know my heart. And I don't feel like I have to justify my reasons. (again with the pstubshshshstst) It is what it is. I am fat and I am doing something about it. I have full support of my family. And with their love, and my fight - I feel up to the challenge.
The best thing so far? I am starting to remember who I am. There's some spunk in my eyes. Just a little bit anyway. I am two weeks post-surgery. I am sore. I am tired. I feel great and a little scared.
There's hope after all.