Release Me

Well, here it is, just over two months since I had my circumferential panniculectomy. Yesterday was the first day I went without wearing my surgical garment. It was a workday, and I was worried that my back might start to ache, but it actually went really well. I had planned to bring the thing with me just in case, but I accidentally left the house without it and thankfully, didn’t need it anyway. Yesterday was my long day at work, from 11:00 AM to 8:00 PM. By the time I got home, I was tired and achy, but in general felt good. Today I went without it again, and I even went to the gym without wearing it.

That also went well, and although I’m still a little tired and sore, I’m really happy with my progress. The main thing I notice without having the garment on is that I can feel the scar. When my clothing rubs against it, it almost feels like a sunburn - it doesn’t hurt exactly, but I’m aware of it as a minor irritation. Otherwise, my only concern is about one of the drain sites that hasn’t quite healed completely. It’s a little sore still too, but I’ll be able to talk to my doctor about that later if it doesn’t get better by the time I see him next. This has been a really big period in my life, and I’m glad to say that I feel like I’ve come through better for it. I can’t say that about many other periods of transition I’ve been through, at least not in the short term. There’s been so much going on lately, and sometimes I’m kind of surprised I made it through. I have a tendency to wait for the other shoe to fall when things go too well, and I haven’t reached that stage yet, which is great. I’m hoping that things will continue in this vein, and that no matter what happens in my future, I’ll be able to deal with it.

I still have a lot of things going on in my life, and not all of them are good, but I’m finally coming to a place where I feel confident in my ability to handle whatever comes my way. What does that have to do with the surgeries? Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. I’ve had a tendency to place an unhealthy amount of emphasis of other people’s opinion of me, especially concerning my physical appearance. I can’t tell you how much being at peace with my body has helped my esteem. I’m not perfect, and I never will be, which is better than fine. I just want to be at peace with myself, which can seem like a tall order sometimes. I recently went to a friends wedding, and I even wore a dress for the first time in I don’t know how long. My dad took some pictures of me and some of our friends, and when I saw them, I was surprised to see how top heavy I look now. My stomach is flat, but it’s hard to tell because I still look so big on top. That’s a bit depressing, but I’m working on getting over it. Whether or not my second surgery gets approved, I want to start making an extra effort to be happy - to love myself both inside and out. I think that is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do. Honestly. (This is my brother James, my friend Kristina, her father Wally, and me!) Not only is it the hardest, but it’s also the most important. It’s been one of my lingering fears, since making the decision to follow this route into corrective surgery, that I’ll become addicted, or reliant on it. I’ve never wanted to be a supermodel, but when you grow up knowing that you’ll never be what others consider ‘beautiful’, it plays with your mind. When I was young, I rebelled against it. I refused to do the make-up, hair, clothing thing that other girls my age were doing.

I learned how to do my own make-up through the virtue of being an actor, and to this day, I have trouble integrating make-up into my daily routine. I usually reserve that for special occasions. I’ve never learned how to do a thing with my hair, other than the very basics. My hair is straight, fine and silky, and I have lots of it. It won’t hold a perm, and any curls I attempt fall out within hours. Clothes, I’m still wishy-washy about. I dress for comfort, not style. Sometimes I love wearing guy’s clothes, and other times I’m sickened by a desire to look stylish with little or no resources at hand. These are little things, but were more frustrating as a teenager, when fitting in is akin to survival. Now, I just am who I am. I’m 27 years old, I’m single, plus-sized, and I live with my family. But I’m much more than that too, and I have to remember that. In the end, and I say that a lot, I know, it doesn’t matter what other people think of me, or you. It doesn’t matter what I look like, or how I dress, or any of that. All that matters is what I think, and what I feel.

All that matters is that I am content, because I have a great life, and so many fabulous opportunities to my disposal. I sometimes get criticized for choosing to have my surgeries. It almost surprises me that the heaviest criticisms come from those who have either lost a large amount of weight on their own, or who need to lose a large amount of weight, but haven’t. I say almost, because I know quite well how easy it is to feel resentment for those who seem to get the things you want in a seemingly easier fashion. I’ve come to a place where I can brush such criticisms aside, with only a little bit of a sting. What I’ve realized is that I live in a time, place, culture, and state of relative affluence, that gives me the opportunity to receive help for something that others cannot. This doesn’t make me bad or good, strong or weak, anything like that. It makes me lucky. I have worked hard to get where I am today, but I was lucky enough to be in an environment that allowed this opportunity to be possible for me. I could have ruined that, and nearly have a few times, but through the work I’ve done to get my life in order, I stayed on a course that changed my life for the better instead of the worse. I feel as though I’m babbling, and maybe I am.

What am I trying to say here? I think where I’m going with this is that I often have an inclination to feel guilty for having a gastric bypass surgery, and then a circumferential panniculectomy, and now planning for others. I have a tendency to feel guilty for anything good that happens in my life, as though I feel I don’t deserve it. What I try to remind myself, and what I ultimately hope to impart to those who hope to learn anything from this blog and my experience, is that there should never be any shame in utilizing positive means to change your life for the better. I use the phrase ‘positive means’ specifically, because one could always decide to lose weight by becoming addicted to speed, or through other such dangerous and life threatening methods. If you’re so unhappy about your weight, or whatever it is, that you’re desperate enough to consider any option, why not take advantage of the one that has the least possibility of danger? Surgery comes with its risks, but at least you’re surrounded by doctors at the time. So, I again invoke the Serenity prayer. The serenity to accept the things I cannot change. To change the things I can’t accept. The wisdom to know the difference.

I cannot change what others think about my decisions, but what I couldn’t accept about my body, I changed. My life is the better for it, and I refuse to feel guilty for that. I’d do it again, and I’d advise anyone to do the same. Life is hard enough as it is. We shouldn’t let others make it harder for us, especially when we have at our disposal a way to get the help we need in being all that we truly are. Open your own doors and step through them - you’ll never know what’s waiting inside.