Nothing to See Here…

Weighing heavy on my mind (pun, ha!) is this whole topic of weight loss surgery.

I have myself talked into it.  I really do.  And then the next minute, I’m convinced that it would be a mistake.  But the following minute, I’m certain it’s what I need to do.  If only time would stand still, then I could be sure of the right way forward.

My reasons for wanting to have it are all noble and right.  I’m not trying to win any beauty contests - I’m well resigned to the fact that I am The Fat Girl.  I’ve been The Fat Girl for a long time.  I’m OK with that.  My husband finds me quite desirable as is and frankly, I don’t know if I could handle any additional desirability.  So this isn’t about physical attractiveness with regard to body shape.

The reason for having it is quite simply my health.  I have high blood pressure, am considered pre-diabetic, have pain in my knees and hips, have no energy, mild sleep apnea, crushing fatigue, compromised sex drive.  More than anything, I would like to turn those things around.  Every single one of them. 

My reasons for not wanting it seem quite silly in comparison.  I mean it - I recognize it.  If I were a bigger person (ha! there I go again), then I would have reasons such as the risk of the surgery and its effects and after-effects, physically speaking.  Frankly, that risk doesn’t bother me - I think the current health risks I face every single day are higher.  I’m fine with the risk.

So in no particular order, here are the top ten reasons for not wanting the surgery:

1. I really like food.  I really like the enjoyment that comes with enjoying lots of enjoyable food.  I just can’t see how eating two ounces of tuna fish will ever fill the part of my self that wants to experience and enjoy food.
2. What if I lose all the weight and Brad Pitt comes after me?  I have a good marriage.  I don’t want to have to choose between Brad Pittish temptations and what I have right now.  It’s good and safe that men aren’t lining up at my door.  Oh, sure, I liked having the New York cabbie flirt with me, but I don’t want anyone to fall in love and seduce me away from all this chaos that is my life.
3. And the other side of that - what if I somehow find myself a size 6 and my husband is appalled at how my hipbones leave bruises on him when we make love?  He likes women with padding and curves.  Part of his attraction to me was physical.  What if I ruin that?  (Well, at least I’d have Brad Pitt to fall back on, right?)
4. What if I couldn’t have Cheddar Bay Biscuits anymore ever????  Travesty… tragedy.  I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT!!
5. Skittles.
6. Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
7. Fear of failure.  If I don’t ever do it, then I can’t be a failure at it.  I know these procedures have a high rate of success.  I have such little belief in myself that I am already anticipating that I would beat the odds and be in the small percentage of people who fail.
8. I simply do not know how to exist in this world under any other identity than The Fat Girl.  Even though I haven’t really always been fat, in my mind I have - since I was a little girl.  If I lose all the weight, who will I be?  If I’m not The Fat Girl, will I cease to have an identity?
9. OK, I will admit it - I do get a little freaked out at the stories about people dying after having this procedure.  To say otherwise is a lie.  Let’s not blow it out of proportion - I think about the risk of a plane crashing each time I board too, but it never stops me from going.  Still, I don’t want to be part of the 1% here.
10. Did I mention Cheddar Bay Biscuits?

There is a timing element.  My company is being bought out by another company and I’m sure there will be some shifting and alignment of health-care benefits.  It’s possible I might not even have a job at all.  Or perhaps I’ll have a job but the new benefits package won’t cover this.  Therefore, I have a time concern - do I need to press forward, make my decision, and do it before all my insurance changes or goes away?

I realize that I am saying one of the reasons I may decide against this is because I like food too much.  Is that as funny to you guys as it is to me?  No?  Sick?  Sad?  Or, perhaps, more likely you are thinking “Yep, that sure explains a lot.”  I have always thought my weight problem is mostly about my love of food more so than some deep-rooted issue around my dad not coming to the school play in 2nd grade or whatever.  I just had it too good growing up, in every way.  I can’t blame it on any emotional issue - it must just be that I like food.  And not only that I like food, but I like the really baaaaad foods.  I like the burgers and fries and shakes and cookies.  Why can’t I have a binging problem with broccoli?  Why doesn’t anyone binge on broccoli? 

Perhaps I should just medicate to the max - control my blood pressure and insulin and cholesterol via medications.  Campaign for wider seats in airplanes.  Perhaps I should just accept myself lovingly instead of just acting like I have done so.  Perhaps I should stop cutting myself any slack at all - get tough - exercise and eat right and lose this weight once and for all the proper way (pretend that there are air-quotes around that word proper, OK?)

Or perhaps I should keep hemming and hawing and talking and writing and thinking and contemplating and flipping and flopping.

If only that sort of exercise burned calories….

Big. Fat. Sigh.