This process is long and exhausting, to say the least. Sometimes it feels like there is so much to do that you question whether or not you will get through. Other times, it feels like there is nothing to do but wait. The process can take a toll on your mind and body.
I know these few months are only a preparation for what it will be like after surgery. I now have to take vitamins four times per day. I have to journal every single thing that goes into my mouth. I have to count carbs, count fat, count calories. Change is difficult.
I have lived in this body for almost 35 years. I’ve never loved my body. And after a while, I started to resent it. It doesn’t do what I want it to do. My belly doesn’t shrink overnight. I can’t wiggle my nose until my boobs perk up. I can’t snap my finger and all of a sudden have the ability to run a marathon. After so long, I started to punish my body in ways that don’t make sense to any logical person. One of those ways is eating.
This surgery isn’t something that I decided to do yesterday. I’ve contemplated it for a long time. I’ve done my research and have spoken with several doctors. Everyone agrees that the surgery is the best option for me in my situation.
It took me a while to tell my family about the surgery, and even longer to tell everyone else. I was afraid of judgements. But for the most part, people were very accepting. Of course there were a few exceptions. At the end of the day, my doctors (and husband’s) opinions are what matter. They (the doctors) have been through years and years of training. I’m pretty sure they know what they’re doing. I was convinced that what others said wouldn’t bother me.
Well, I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was. I was getting my hair cut by the same person who has cut my hair for years. We were chatting as girls do in this situation. Not thinking, I mentioned the surgery. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone look so…… I don’t know the word. Angry? Disappointed? Confused? “Why would you do that?!” Now, I’m sure she meant well. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. It caught me off guard. She left me without words. Then she proceeded to tell me about all these people she knows who has had it. Some were successful, some were not. I tried to tune her out because I felt like I had disappointed her. As if her opinion would make the difference in my decision. I’m still a little upset. The judgement in her voice and eyes was enough to throw me off my game.
This quote came up on my Baritastic app last week:
I can’t expect for her or anyone else to know what my path involves. We each have to walk our own. We all have twists, turns, hills, and mud. We each have to figure out a way to get past these obstacles. I can not judge others, just as others should not judge me.
What I know now is this; if someone tells you that they have opted for this surgery, they have done their research. They don’t need your opinion. They don’t need to hear the story of your friend’s cousin’s wife’s brother who had the surgery and this and this and this happened. We know that this is going to be hard. We know that there are complications. We know this isn’t a permanent fix. Trust me, WE KNOW. Please save all of that for after I exit the conversation. If that is difficult for you, at least be kind.