MayPhoenix
In the beginning...
Wait, wrong story.
Actually, to tell my story I should go back to the beginning. I weighed 9 lbs 11oz at birth and showed no signs of slimming down. I was a fat baby who loved to eat. Eventually, I became a fat child, then a fat adolescent, then a fat teen, and now I'm a fat woman fast approaching middle age.
Despite my weight, I am relatively healthy. Oh, sure, I have GERD, sleep apnea and my knees sound like Rice Krispies as I go up stairs, and I can't stand for more than a few minutes without excruciating pain. But my bp is normal, I don't have diabetes, and as of last year when I had my last full physical I didn't show any signs of heart problems. I can be active when I want and am relatively light on my feet for someone who is 5'7" and 340+ lbs!
My problem is food. I won't eat things that have strange textures; that sets off my gag reflex something fierce. But I love to cook and bake, skills I inherited from my German ancestors and southern-born grandparents. Every Sunday it was biscuits and gravy; every Christmas, the cookies and the potatoes and dumplings with the clarified butter... Food was always such a special focus in my family, and I was always encouraged to eat, eat, eat. That may have been okay when I was a kid and led a more active lifestyle -- riding my bike, climbing trees, running, swimming -- but as an adult I became more sedentary. Not a good thing, to be sure.
Because food was always such a comfort and joy, naturally it was my first defense when things went wrong. My father abused me and my parents divorced, and I was troubled so I started to pack on the pounds. Then my stepmother came along and tried to starve me to death (literally). It was the only time I was actually "thin," but I was also sick all the time. Whenever I got access to food I gorged myself because I didn't know when I'd have it again. I still have a hangup about wasting food for this reason.
And naturally, with being fat comes the cruel taunts from one's peers and total strangers. I have always been a sensitive person so I took everything to heart. I tried to lose weight, bouncing from one diet to the next. I would take off a few pounds but too quickly hit a plateau and stopped cold. Frustration and defeat followed, then I was back to eating uncontrollably. This not only jeopardized my health, it cost me a lot of employment as I got turned down for positions because of my appearance. After all, who wants to walk into a business and the first thing one sees is a huge, disgusting fat person? Sounds unbelievable, doesn't it? And yet, that is what was happening to me. I even had a man tell me he thought of hiring me simply because a "pretty, thin" girl would be too distracting for his male employees. I kid you not. My experience didn't matter. I was FAT. And I was growing more and more depressed by the day.
It wasn't until recently that I sought help for all the anguish I've suffered through the years. I've sought counseling and I'm on medications to help with my chronic depression, and I feel like I'm on an even keel for the first time in my life. What's more, I now see a solution to my weight control problem: bariatric surgery. I was first introduced to the concept in 2004 when I had my gallbladder removed. At the time, I didn't have sufficient insurance or I could've had the gastric bypass done as well. It took two years, a lawyer, and a lot of paperwork, but now I'm on Disability and covered by Medicare -- and so I'm making that next big step.
I foresee a day when I will be able to walk more than a few steps without being winded. I foresee a day when I can buy clothes off the rack instead of mail ordering. I foresee a day when I can ride a bike again, and take walks, and play with my nieces and nephews, and not break furniture when I sit on it. I foresee a longer life ahead of me. Finally, at long last, there is a light at the end of this tunnel.
