No shame, no gain?

Let's revisit the whole "I'm going to be extremely candid and it will probably offend you at some point" conversation. This is one of those times.

Wait, before we get to that - let me address something. HAVEN'T YOU TRIED DIET AND EXERCISE? Yep. WHAT ABOUT WEIGHT WATCHERS? Uh huh. A NUTRITIONIST? Yes. Multiple times.

Believe when I say that I have literally exhausted every other option: personal trainers, checking out workout/fitness/weightlifting books from the library, Slim-Fast, prayer, meditation, starvation, purging. I've tried it all. Besides a divine miracle, my only viable option right now is weight loss surgery, much to the chagrin of most of my family.

See: "oh-so-supportive family" below.

My sister once suggested that I "JUST try diet and exercise." My dad tries to sell me on his meal replacement shake every time I bring up the subject of weight loss (sidebar: it got to the point where I just stopped talking to him about it, because it's easier to do this on my own, than start a fight with him every time I try to talk about it). My brother told me that weigh loss surgery is a bad idea and that I'm making a rash decision. But what my family doesn't understand is JUST HOW MISERABLE I AM. What they also don't understand is JUST HOW SCARED I AM. What they mostly don't understand is just how much weight I need to lose. We're talking hundreds of pounds. If I just needed to lose 20-30 lbs, then yes, for goodness sake, give me a meal replacement shake. Give me a treadmill. Give me some freaking dumbbells. I've done it ALL. And it works. For 20-30 lbs. But then I gain it back. Plus 10-15 lbs. I need something permanent. Something with accountability. Something where "cheat days" need not apply. See: weight loss surgery.

I know MY body. I know MY motivation. I know MY triggers. No one else does.

It's infuriating and invalidating and annoying.

So, like I started to say about a million words ago, here is a very candid list of the reasons WHY I want weight loss surgery:

1. I have chronic back pain because of my chest/weight (I bring this up first because I am currently doped up on enough ibuprofen to kill a small elephant)

2. I suffer from extreme shortness of breath. I fear that more than a single flight of stairs will literally kill me one day.

3. I have sleep apnea. I've never been diagnosed, but I do wake up occasionally gasping (GASPING) for air. It's scary as shit.

4. I have numbness in my left leg. I've been told it's probably a pinched nerve due to weight.

5. The top of my left foot has been painfully sore for the past 2 months or so. I'm guessing it's a stress fracture or just a very stressed foot due to carrying around a lot of weight.

6. I am probably pre-diabetic. With 2 uncles and a grandpa on one side of my family that have/had diabetes and a father on the other side of the family with diabetes, I think I have like a 400% chance of developing Type II diabetes in the nearish future, if I don't do something stat.

7. I have such low self-confidence. I'm tired of feeling like a worthless, disgusting, sack of dog crap. (Oh, and if I don't feel that way, I won't let people treat me that way either. ::coughcough:: )

8. I've recently developed a bit of social anxiety. I don't like leaving the house and going into public, if I can avoid it. I can literally feel people judging me with their eyes. Yesterday, a woman at the mall asked me when my baby was due. I'll let that sink in for a moment.

...

9. I'm tired of having to count steps to the door of the mall, the restaurant, the grocery store, wherever. If it's really far, I sometimes can't muster the physical or emotional strength that it will take to get there. See shortness of breath above.

10. I'd like to be able to sit in a booth at a restaurant. I can if the table moves. But if the table is bolted to the ground, forgetta bout it. How demoralizing is it to say to a hostess "Um, sorry, but can we sit at a table instead?" Or how about that one time the waitress actually stood there and WATCHED as I struggled to fit my fat ass in the booth? I died inside.

11. Airplanes. I'd like to be able to sit comfortably on an airplane. Better yet, I'd like to be able to buckle the goddamn seat belt. Talk about demoralizing. "Excuse me, flight attendant, but the seat belt doesn't appear to fit around my fat ass. You wouldn't happen to have a seat belt extender, would you?" D.E.M.O.R.A.L.I.Z.I.N.G.

12. I am always always always afraid that the seat, chair, whatever I'm sitting in/on is going to collapse under my weight. Sometimes I am so preoccupied with worrying about it that I can't pay attention to whatever else is going on around me. If that ever happened (and thank god it hasn't....yet), it would be the absolute death of me. I once saw it happen to a man. I still cringe at the memory on his behalf.

13. I'd like to be able to walk into most stores and buy some clothes. Yes, there are plenty of plus size options these days...but what do you do when you LITERALLY wear the LARGEST size that Lane Bryant carries? How am I supposed to find pants to wear to work if I'm too fat even for the plus size store? I'm going to have to start special ordering my clothes. KILL ME NOW. (Look, I don't want to be a size 8 or 10 or even 12. I'd just like to be a curvy 16. At least then, I can still shop at my favorite plus size stores [hello, Torrid] but be able to shop at Old Navy and Target and the Gap with ease. I have KLASSY taste).

14. I want to stop feeling guilt/shame when I eat. Anything.

15. I'd like to be able to buckle my seat belt in the back seat of my dad's car. (Perhaps I should have included this in the airplane section)

16. [on second thought, I've deleted this part. I said I wasn't going to censor...but I had to censor this. Let's just say it had to do with sex. Or, rather, the lackthereof.]

17. I'd like to date. And not have to search for "BBW friendly" on Craigslist like I did yesterday. THIS IS WHAT ROCK BOTTOM LOOKS LIKE, FOLKS.

18. I'd like to eliminate "crazy cat lady" and "old maid" from my vocabulary.

19. If I'm able to conceive children (See: #8, 17, 18, 19), I'd like to be able to physically keep up with them. Or comfortably play with them on the floor. Or breast feed. Or hold. Where the hell is the baby going to go since I conceivably have no lap. Just a bit fat gut. (On a related note, and probably worthy of its own number, my mom died at the age of 47. She wasn't even BIG! She did have heart disease though. And just died out of the blue one day. That could be me. I don't want to die at 47. That would mean that my life is more than half over. And, fuckin' a, I have a lot left to do. I haven't even started my REAL LIFE! I'm a grad student! That's not real life!)

I think that's sufficient for now. If I think of more, I'll post.

-H