He was right. (?!?)

"Wait. He was right?!" you say, "That surgeon who called you and your accomplishments meaningless simply because you were fat was right??"

Yes.

What he was saying, in essence, is that people won't see you as a person when they're too busy being disgusted by the sight of you. Even generally kind, enlightened, intelligent people respond differently to others based on what they see.

Size, like skin color and expression of gender, matters.
The more people deny that, the truer it is.

People treat me differently.
Sometimes blatantly, sometimes subtly, but often in ways I never imagined or expected.

Please understand, I wanted him to be wrong. But people treat me differently.

No one expects me to apologize for being in the way.
No one shrinks away from me on the bus or light rail train.
When I buy soda or snacks for my kids, I no longer get "The Look" from fellow shoppers or store employees.
I no longer catch people surreptitiously checking the contents of my basket or sneering when my cart is overflowing (Yes, this is actually a thing).
I've been invited to do more things by more people than have ever shown an interest in spending time with me before.
Men (and a few women) who have never looked twice at me before are now flirting. (Guess what? I'm the same damn person!)
I'm taken seriously when I make complaints at stores or restaurants.
I'm taken seriously when I complain that I'm tired or in pain.
I'm no longer ignored when waiting to get assistance for something and I'm experiencing real customer service for the first time in years.
People listen, and hear me when I speak (except about eating issues, but that's for another post).
They actually talk to me, make eye contact or smile at me.
Medical professionals show me more respect and show more trust that I know my own body.
People look surprised that I haven't been in a romantic relationship for the last 13 years.
People no longer look surprised or confused by my intelligence and education.
More people - markedly more - have told me they are proud of my weight loss than have told me they were proud of my Master's degree.

Let me say that again:

More people are more impressed by the changing number on the scale and the changing shape of my body than that I, a single, working mother, earned a graduate degree. 

These are just some examples. I could list more, but honestly, it's hurting my heart a bit to see all of this in black and white.

It's funny (peculiar, not "ha ha") the kinds of things you learn to expect and accept when you're in a larger body. It's sad how much of others' respect and kindness is contingent on being a socially acceptable size.

Doctor Blankety-Blank

In December of 2017 I met with my bariatric surgeon for the first time.

I was one week away from walking across the stage to receive my Master's degree, which I had completed with honors. I felt pretty good about life. I was proud of myself and the work I had done - professionally, academically and most of all, personally. I'd kicked a** on every level and I was settling into a career I love.

Que: Dr. Blankety-Blank.

Everything about that appointment seemed designed to tear me down: the way he talked to me, the way he talked about my body, the way he talked about my past trauma. It was one long, demeaning lecture about my life-long failure to be thin, my "emotional fragility" and his belief that I would not be successful and would "undo all of his hard work." And the best was yet to come.

"No one will ever take you or your accomplishments seriously as long as you are morbidly obese." 

Just sit with that for a minute. Imagine what it's like to live in a larger body, with all of the things that come along with it. Imagine working hard to overcome trauma and poverty, getting a Master's degree and successfully raising four wonderfully amazing young people. Then imagine hearing someone say that everything you've ever done is meaningless simply because you are fat.

Sit with that for a minute.
Sit with me as my co-workers celebrate and support me with my favorite cupcakes (which I only pretend to eat).
Sit with me at my graduation, where those words lurk under the celebration and excitement (and sometimes I'm only pretending to smile).
Sit with me, tense and uncomfortable, between my friends and classmates, wondering if I'm taking up too much space and wondering how many people I know would secretly agree with him.
Just SIT. WITH. IT.

Are you shocked? Sad? Angry? Determined? Defeated? All of the above?

Now imagine, 8 months later and 100+ pounds lighter, coming to the realization that he was probably right.

This go-round

In 2013 I was diagnosed with a hiatal hernia.

For those of you who don't know, the hiatus is the opening in the diaphragm that allows the esophagus to pass out of the chest and attach to the stomach. A hiatal hernia occurs when a portion of the stomach is forced through the hiatus into the chest cavity. Remarkably (not) this can cause a great deal of pain as well as a whole host of other issues. The stomach can start to spasm and the resulting sensations feel (I'm told) quite similar to a major heart attack. For hours. Days even. (I will post more later about how doctors/hospitals respond to fat people in pain).

My hernia was severe and of a type that presented significant risk. The standard treatment for this condition is a surgery called a nissen fundoplication. Fancy name for semi-miraculous, snippy, wrappy, stitchy medical magic. Truly awesome stuff.

However.

"This surgery will not be approved due to your weight. Morbid obesity leads to surgery failure."

Thank you Kaiser.
Nevermind that research shows that obesity is not a contraindication for the surgery and that failure rates for the surgery are no different between those with a wide range of  BMI (Journal of Gastroenterology, 2005). But hey, why do facts matter in medicine?

Anyhoo.
I was given three options -
a) wait it out and potentially face a medical emergency
b) lose 100 pounds and maintain the weight loss for a year (did you know: the only sure thing about dieting is that 95% of the time people regain the lost weight and then some?)
or c) gastric bypass.

Bariatric surgery was, of course, billed as essential for my overall health and well being. It would make me "happy and healthy" and clear up all of my on-going health problems (at the time, my only health concern was the hernia and GERD). It was promised to be the "magic pill" that would solve everything (and make me socially acceptable).

Here's another fun fact: Given surgeons with equal experience and past successes, gastric bypass is almost twice as likely to fail as a nissen procedure.

Doesn't add up, does it?

Once I was referred to the bariatric program - which I don't remember agreeing to, just that I would consider it - my referral to the GI doctor was closed. He would no longer see me or treat my condition. I was given no options for treating my reflux or hernia during the in-between-time for any of the three choices I was given.

Meanwhile, the pain increased, the reflux increased, the nausea, vomiting and swallowing difficulties increased. It's difficult to sleep when you can't lie down without aspirating stomach acid. It is difficult to exercise more when you can't bend over, twist, jostle your body, tighten your abdomen or freaking breathe because of a hernia. And despite popular belief about fat people, I actually like to move my body.

I spent a lot of money jumping through hoops for a surgery I didn't really want. I spent a lot of time trying to lose weight for this surgery I didn't really want - to "show that I'm serious about the program." Every hoop I jumped through led to a new one, and at the same time my life was ridiculously full with a challenging (but rewarding) full-time job, graduate school and raising four teenagers on my own.

I resisted, I delayed and I lived with the pain until I couldn't anymore. In October of 2017 I finally gave in and committed to the program, and in February of 2018 I had a roux-en-Y gastric bypass procedure.

I'm still waiting for the magic I was promised.

Intro

So.
"Losing Me."

Yes, this is a blog about weight loss, but probably not in the way you would expect. I'm not going to glorify diets or recommend exercise plans. I'm not going to talk about how much healthier or happier you will be if you conform to a socially acceptable size and shape. I'm not going to tell you how much more wonderful I feel after losing the equivalent of a 6th grade girl.

I don't feel wonderful.

Sometimes...

This will probably seem strange and completely foreign to a lot of people.
I get that.
I am sure that people will make lots of assumptions and lots of judgments.
I get that too.
Hell, I've lived with those assumptions and judgments for most of my life. I'm used to it.



Over the next however many posts, spread out through however many weeks/months/years it takes, I want to put into words my experience with fatness, disordered eating, the diet industry, the healthcare industry and the truly screwed up way our society grants (or removes) value based on the size and shape of a person's body.

This is not ok.
You are more important than any number on a scale.