I didn’t get fat because I am stupid. I didn’t get fat because I am especially greedy. I got fat because my relationship with food became about so many other things. So much beyond nutrition and giving myself the basic energy needed to power a living body that I was willing to incrementally give up what I loved to be and to do, in order to maintain my messed up love affair with the worst possible foods.
That is what had to change. But to change it I had to understand not just what I was missing, but what was keeping it missing. Adding weight when you are already fat is very like the old adage about boiling a frog. You don’t notice the damage piling up until you are bent double with back pain, unable to walk from one side of Trafalgar Square to the other.
There are many reasons why I decided to have weight loss surgery. None of them have anything to do with the question most frequently asked of me: “is it because your husband left you?”
In fact I had been on the waiting list for several months when that happened. I had been looking forward to a life of us exploring my new body and its new capabilities together. Us both benefitting from my renewed interest in my health and my renewed ability to do something about it.
But that wasn’t to be. And actually, oddly, I’m quite glad about that.
I’m glad for many reasons I won’t go into here (but am considering writing about – so if any MNers fancy sharing their own stories of surviving divorce, I’d be delighted to hear from them). But mostly, I'm glad because what I have really had to do since the day I began the incredibly restrictive pre-operative diet is become a – hopefully temporary – entirely self-centred person.
To make sure this surgery works I have to think of myself. I have to listen to my body. I have to concentrate on me. What I need. What I can and must do. Doing this alone is not as brave as my wonderful supporters tell me. It is easier.
I can go for a walk by simply leaving the house. No muss, no fuss. I eat what I need to, when my body (not my cravings) tells me to without having to balance my needs with another’s dietary requirements. I can exercise when I want to, monopolising the living room and then collapse in a sweaty heap on my own sofa.
I owe nobody any explanations or excuses. If I fail at this it is only myself I am failing. What I need to do now (and what I have clearly needed to do for a very long time) is learn not to fail myself. To learn that failing myself is not allowed.
Women are taught never to think of themselves first. We are rarely encouraged to think of ourselves positively at all. We are set up to fail on such a regular basis by being too fat or too thin; too smart or too dumb; too loud or too quiet; too pushy or too acquiescent. Women can’t win.
Unless of course, we stop allowing others to define our failures. Stop putting the failing of ourselves at the back of the queue for attention and take seriously what we are telling ourselves. That we need attention. That we need to look after ourselves. To value ourselves not for others, not to attract men or repel criticism, but for what we can do at our best.
I won’t get through this journey if I focus on benefits that are not yet obvious. I am not suddenly sexy. I am not going to find the man of my dreams (at least in part because he’s a Joss Whedon scripted vampire who probably doesn’t really exist). But I can be a me I really like. I am already a me I like a great deal more. I am a me who walks. A me who cares about herself and treats herself with respect and love.
And most importantly, I am a me who has learned not to be embarrassed to like myself and tell you all exactly how much.
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Guest posts
To get thin after weight-loss surgery, I need to be selfish
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MumsnetGuestPosts · 16/01/2014 14:10
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