NuNae

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And so the day came when being "plus-size" was no longer acceptable and so the fat girl took drastic measures by having gastric bypass surgery and she lived happily slender after. Or so I thought. I'm nearing the four month mark since my surgery and I'm down 65 pounds. I should be proud of myself. I should be happy at the very least, right? After all, I have fat friends that surgery isn't even an option for. Instead I'm wallowing in self pity about all of the things that are still wrong with me, doubtful that I will ever reach a point in my mind where I can just be happy with myself. Everyone knows that I've had surgery and for the most part they are quite supportive; I'm sick of the "support". "You look so great, Renee!" "That weight is sure coming off, Renee!" "I've always said you're such a beautiful girl, Renee!" "I can tell you've lost weight from when I last saw you (48 hours ago), Renee!" The polite thing to do is just say Thank You. The self-confident thing to do is take all of the praise to heart. The Renee thing to do is think everyone is lying. My gut still jiggles when I walk, my pant size is still in the double digits and I still can't "squeeze" in to a booth at a tiny restaurant only leaving me to run shamefully from my girth out into a cold lonely December night. Almost 70 pounds later not a damn thing has changed. I'm neither here nor there. At least when I ate a whole Stuffed Crust Meat Lovers Pizza with a pint of Mint Chip Haagen-Dazs I knew my place in the world. Now I'm not so sure. My therapist calls my mental state "negative self-talk".  I secretly call her a money grubbing over-optimistic cow. In my quest for normalcy, I've found that I much prefer to be ignored. If happiness is indeed a choice then I choose to opt-out . . . misery is far more comforting. 

I have officially started round 3 of my gastric bypass journey. At the last minute during round two I had a change of heart and decided to change surgeons. The result? Bliss. The people are friendlier, the location is more convenient, and the surgeon is more accessible. Finally I can breathe a sigh of relief. The only thing that elevated my piss-tivity level was my Primary Care Physician. For almost two weeks, he refused/delayed sending my medical records to the new surgeon. The old me would have just felt defeated and baked brownies. The new me says F*&@K that!!! I promptly informed him that if my medical records were not sent immediately, he should consider himself replaced. Having a back bone is new for me and I can already see that I'm losing "friends" along the way. But I know this is not the end of the road 'cause it ain't over til' the thin lady sings and damnit, I'm still shopping at Torrid!!!

Went to yet another pre-surgery appointment. Blah! I'm not sure if my doctor is incompetent or just doesn't care but I feel like he is not taking this seriously enough. I completed all but one pre-surgery clearances in TWO WEEKS! A friend of mine took months to complete hers! The only doctor not doing things expeditiously is my primary care physician. First he didn't write down my six consecutive weigh-ins for the past six months, then said that my iron was too low to clear me. Today's excuse was that my Vitamin D is too low. What the hell?!?!? Uh, he didn't notice that my Vitamin D was low when he told me my iron was low? Somtimes, I feel like the Universe, God, Supreme forces that be are telling me to reconsider. My therapist (gasp) told me that second guessing this is normal. It's a tough decision, but I certainly don't have to tell any of you that! Call me a brat, but I want my surgery NOW!!! (throwing small tantrum)