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“Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes.
Ch-ch-Changes (Turn and face the strange). Look out you Rock'n' rollers. Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes. Ch-ch-Changes (Turn and face the strange)
Pretty soon now you're gonna get older. Time may change me. But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me. But I can't trace time”. –Changes David Bowie
Pretty soon now you're gonna get older. Time may change me. But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me. But I can't trace time”. –Changes David Bowie
As always I’m thinking about change, thought I’d give a
little nod to our dearly departed Bowie.
We’ve lost too many of the good ones this year.
Have I said how much weight loss surgery has changed my
life? Let me say it now. Weight loss
surgery has changed my life. No regrets.
NONE. However, it is not an easy road
and there are definite pros and cons.
I was a big girl. 300lbs
big and when I look back on the photos of myself it’s almost shocking to see
how big I was. When people who know me
look at photos of me, they always say “I didn’t know you that big”. Errr yeah you did. We were friends, family, colleagues. You knew
me then. I promise you. “Wow”. Yep, wow.
While I hated being that big, I took care to look as good as I could
given my limits. I tried to find clothes
that were flattering and that I liked.
Unless you have been overweight, you can’t imagine how hard that
is.
The thing about the way my body was, while big, everything
was where it was supposed to be. It all
lined up. Let’s take my breasts for
example, in hindsight, my breasts were great—full, buoyant, lusted after and
enjoyed. I’m sorry that ever complained
about them. Forgive me boobies, for I
took thee for granted.
I never really thought about the beauty of having a body,
while overly large, was propionate and pretty predictable. If you were a man, who was so inclined, to
make the attempt and was ultimately successful in getting me naked, you knew
what you were getting into. No surprises
here. You can’t hide 300lbs behind a
black tent, no matter how fetching the tent is.
But, I knew what being that heavy would mean in the long
run. Every time I hit a weight
milestone, it scared me. 200lbs, 250lbs,
272lbs (why that number? Because when I weighed 272lbs it was my, then all time
high. The number that was going to make me take my life in my hands. That is, until 300lbs. 300lbs really really scared me. I was slow, sluggish, unhealthy and tired. 300lbs, unless you’re 7 feet tall, is the
beginning that is a death sentence really.
It was a matter of time before I started to feel the physical effects of
being that heavy.
Hop, skip, jump I have WLS and the numbers start go
down---which makes me happy. But my body
has lost its bounce, fullness and lushness.
My body, in spite of how good it looks in clothes, in spite of what the
number that is says on the scale, is withering away.
This is a common problem of the people who have experienced a "massive weight loss". In fact, this is image is often shared between those of us who have had WLS.
That is no joke, just trust me.
Breasts? Think long stretched out tube socks. Arms? I can hear my arms slap against my body
when I brush my teeth. Stomach? I don’t
know what Michelle Duggar’s stomach looks like, but it can’t be good and
neither is mine. Same deal with my
thighs. I feel like a Shar Pei. That is, I did, until a few weeks ago when I had an abdominoplasty
and brachioplasty.
Right now I’m still in
some pain, I’m hunched over, walking pretty gingerly, the scars are fresh, I’m
rocking out with a drain in my stomach and I haven’t taken a shower since May
20th. * I still have to repair my breasts and thighs, but that’s
coming and I feel good about it. Yes, I
said I “have to” repair breasts and thighs.
In order for me to be happy, I need to have a body that matches the
matches the number on the scale and how I feel.
Having this wrinkly, deflated body makes me feel badly and has an effect
on my morale. It SUCKS having to wear
Spanx every day.
Weight loss surgery was the first step in what is turning
out to be long process towards good health and the body I want. But, I’ll say it again. NO regrets. NONE.
* When I wrote this, I hadn’t yet bathed. But my drains came out on
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June 11th
and I am no longer a
member of the great unwashed.
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