Ummm… This is a very personal decision. My range of emotions included anger, sadness, hopelessness, fear, and anything else that a human mind can experience. My first meeting with my surgeon wasn’t very good. I was angry that I felt I needed to meet with this man. I was upset that I just couldn’t do it on my own. I felt like time was running out. I’ll be 40 this year, and I started to imagine the rest of my life with this 5 year that has more energy than a pack of football players, my stressed out knees and back. I felt like I should have done more, when I was younger to curve this issue. I felt like that I shouldn’t have married bad, which caused a great deal of stress, disappointment, and the other horrible D word… depression.
Depression was my achilles heel. I ate myself into hypertension, pre-diabetic numbers, and somehow it was just my poor ‘potential’ surgeon’s fault. Hell, he hadn’t even touched me yet. I sat across from him thinking what an ass. Right? Cause that’s what we do, when we sufficiently need someone else to blame. We lash out at the one person that can potentially change the course of our lives.
Well, at least that was my story, what about yours? Lol
I would encourage everyone to take your time with this decision. If you have problems, during the surgery or afterwards, it’s important that we are sitting comfortably with the choice we have made. Our doctors deserve fair treatment, during the good and the bad. Don’t be forced into this. Do it for yourself. Although, my 5 year old was my staunch #1 driver, then came the fear of diabetes. That’s my truth, right or wrong.
For me, it was important that I fell in love with this decision. I needed to love it more than like it or be okay with it. It took about 7 months from the initial meeting to my actual surgery date. I arrived mentally, emotionally, and spiritually equipped about 4 to 5 months in. The first 4 months, I spent researching, looking for death rates, success rates, and loose skin pictures and videos, and in that order. I was really scared about what I would look like. Now, this was my torture. I had made peace with the low death rate, but the loose sagging skin, and for the first time in my life, being skinny took a long while to conceptualize.
Below are pictures of my face shots before and now. I look back now, and I am thinking, what the hell took you so long girl!! However, had I not taken the time; took the long road, I don’t think mentally I would be where I have safely arrived. I would have nicked picked my decision to death, and eventually sunk into a skinny girl depression, with looser skin. Why looser skin? Because I would be spending the majority of my time mourning the food I can’t eat, mad if I have to dump, and not exercising to tighten my skin up. Just a shrinking loose skinned mess!
My skin has loosen, but I feel so good, who in the hell cares. I look good! I feel better than I look! I dump, then say whelp can’t eat that again; get in the mirror and snap pictures of my new forming collarbone! Then I get my weights and resistance band and work on toning my skin up! I will get an A for effort, no matter the journey or length of time it takes!
See the difference? It’s major!