whitespots
I suppose since I am 14 days away from surgery I should write 'my story'. Quite honestly it's not that exciting. I'm a married, almost 30, relatively simple woman who is morbidly obese. I don't have children yet... And the obesity is holding my husband and I back from acheiving that. I could go on about how long I have been overweight, the yo yo diets and all that, but I won't - because, quite honestly, it isn't pertinant. And who cares? I don't really give a flying frog how other poelpe got MO just as I am sure you don't really care how I did.
I have Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromyalgia so I am in pain most of the day although I am on 8 different medications to help. I have a fake knee and had that replaced 3 years ago this October. Strangely enough, I am relatively 'healthy" for being MO - cholesterol, triglycerides, blood pressure all within normal range. No diabetes or sleep apnea. Other than a lot of extra joint pain and the things I cannot see from MO, I am okay. Of course the mental side of being MO is completely different.
Some people liked their fat self and had as much fun as possible no matter their size. Me, not so much, issues with increased arthritis pain notwithstanding. I hate being fat. I hate that I cannot keep up. I hate that my arthritis combined with my weight make working out hard and running absolutely impossible. I despise how I look, how I feel.
So, I'm making a change. 
This was just a random post on the RNY message board by Shari aka Jupiter6, and it really does speak volumes to me. How to sever the ties between destructive eating, in my case, sweets.
First comes detox. Cold turkey. You ball your fists and cry like a baby and feel deprived and you hurt. Yes you hurt. You hurt like hell and you LET yourself hurt, instead of wrestling it, or mollifying it with a bagful of Frito-Lay therapy. Then, once you are clean, ironically, you can rebuild our relationship with the stuff. You get to have it again-- but you re-frame the relationship. Since you no longer "need" it, because you're not ameliortaing your inner crap with it, you can actually *taste* it. But detox comes first. Period. No smoking dope in the rehab bathroom-- or in this case, no Ding Dongs for breakfast. Sweat it out. Struggle. Feel like hell. Cry, take a bath, soothe yourself with candles, lotion, self talk, Oprah magazine, DVDs, whatever you have to do. But struggle, and feel the struggle. We're not USED to feeling without medicating, without burying our feelings in a carb pile. Struggle--because to be honest, you learn a lot in that struggle, and it ends sooner than you'd think. And THEN, well, one hopes that's where healthy living can start.
I needed to cut and detox. I needed to learn that it's okay to hurt because something better will be in it's place. And on and every day after August 27th, there will be something better. A better me.
