I had an evening out with my two best girlfriends from law school last night and it was a blast! The three of us don’t get together nearly enough. I took the chance to reveal my decision to move forward with weight loss surgery to my one friend (the other I had already shared the news with). She knows quite a lot about my background and breakdown and is one of the few people I really trust in my life.
She’s European, thin, dark hair and eyes, olive complexion, beautiful. I have never once felt judged by her, but I was really nervous and just not sure what to expect. Other than not being totally sure what weight loss surgery was, she was as amazingly supportive as she always is. What a relief!
I think I was really worried about the possibility of rejection. One of the scariest parts for me right now about the thought of surgery is wondering who is going to help take care of me afterwards. If it’s not my friends, I’ve got no one to fill that role for me.
I don’t even want to tell my parents about it, honestly. That’s not because of a fear of a negative reaction or anything, but because I just don’t trust them with this decision. This is a very personal journey for me and I don’t trust them enough to be emotionally supportive (in a healthy way) through the process. After all, their abuse and dysfunction is a huge contributing factor in why I started turning to food for comfort in the first place.
When I was maybe 7 or 8, my mother put a tupperwear bowl next to my dinner plate and screamed at me, threatening to make me eat my own vomit when I said I was too full to eat anything else. After I started gaining weight around 10, my mother put a lock on the fridge to keep me from eating when one of my parents wasn’t home. My mother would grab and touch my butt constantly after I started maturing, because she liked my butt and wished she had one of her own (no matter what weight that woman is at, she has a board flat ass).
Needless to say, my confusing and distorted relationship with food and my body started very early. I’m trying to fix that and feel that they will be more of a hindrance than a help. So, while I might tell my parents at the point that the surgery is actually scheduled (there is a small risk of death, they should probably know eventually), I’m keeping this decision to myself for now.
Plus, telling my friend left me feeling plenty vulnerable as it is. So much so that I had my first naked dream where I wasn’t the only one concerned about my nudity. Naked dreams usually mean youre feeling exposed, but normally no one else knows in my dreams. It’s my own internal fear of exposure that has driven those dreams in the past. Not this time. Everyone else eventually saw it too and it was a disaster.
I was at a baseball stadium, watching a game with a couple of my friends. It was almost like those two people were all my friends all at once, though. I was naked and fine being with them. There was this big blimp drone thing (that was also a huge fan) that was entertaining and added complexity to the game as it flew around the stadium. On one exciting play, the fan blimp blew a ball into the stands right to me. Not even thinking, I stood up and caught it. I immediately sat down and tried to cover up, but it was too late. Everyone saw me naked. People gasped, laughed, and started calling me disgusting. One woman got on the loud speaker and lectured me about how I should do some bullshit to lose weight. Another threw pies in my face. It was awful. I woke up and cried.
I can only imagine the dreams I’ll have after telling my parents. Ugh. I hope I’m doing the right thing. I know all I have scheduled is attending a seminar right now, but I intend to go through with surgery. I hope I’m prepared emotionally to deal with this. It seems like that’s one of the hardest parts for people who have blogged about their experience. Who am I to think that I’ll be any different? What if I fail and gain the weight back? What if I tail spin into another breakdown? But what if it’s the best thing I ever do for my health and happiness? So confused.
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