Hindsight Chapter III

Hindsight Part III
June 15, 2011
I had nothing to lose, except the weight.
I would be rich if I had a dollar for every time I heard, “You’re so pretty, but… you’d be much prettier if you lost some weight.” Considering the fact that I never cared whether anyone thought I was pretty, I still appreciated the compliments. I did not, however, place any value on being pretty. In my estimation, “pretty” was something you traded on if you weren’t smart, savvy, wise, intelligent, friendly, kind, or any of the other qualities I felt were much more important. The only apprehension I had about the surgery was that I didn’t have any idea how I would look without the weight. Call me vain, but I had really gotten used to, and had grown to love me the way I was. It didn’t have anything to do with being pretty; it had more to do with just being comfortable in my own skin. I loved me, my mother loved me, my husband loved me, my children loved me… but most of all, God loved me. I was okay.
Getting comfortable in your own skin, when you are constantly being teased about being fat, or treated unfairly because you are fat, is not an easy thing to do. When you’re a teen and dating (and even when you’re older and dating), you are likely to be passed over for women who are, according to men who are “visually driven”, more attractive because they are smaller. When this happens, you are hurt, but you learn quickly that, if they’re that shallow, you really didn’t want to be bothered anyway. You end up having more good friends than dates, but that’s okay, too. As a student, I was more focused on educational milestones, graduating, and having fun, than dating, but I learned a lot from the dating I did do. The most important lesson is that, if a guy wouldn’t date you when you’re fat, you won’t want to date him when you’re thinner.
I had no idea how I would look “skinny”. My surgeon laughed at me when I said this out loud, because, he assured me, given the size of my frame, “skinny” would never be a problem. As scary as the prospect of surgery was, it was even “more scary” to think of myself having to take insulin shots twice a day, like my mom had to do. I was in! What floored me was going into Added Dimensions or Plus Sizes (I don’t remember which one) to find a dress to match some “kicking” royal-and-white, high-heeled spectator pumps, finding the perfect dress and having to buy a size 30 ½ to get a fit! I was TOO THROUGH!!
My husband and I talked a lot about what was about to happen. He wanted me to be happy, and he also wanted me to keep cooking! That was his only concern. He loved the way I looked, but he wasn’t opposed to my looking better, slimmer. He was totally over the jokes he had to listen to about his “fat wife”. Weight was never an issue for him, and he could eat circles around me. I loved my own cooking, but he loved my cooking more. I assured him that I would keep feeding him, and that was a promise I kept.
The most surprising reaction to my decision to have the surgery was from my very best male friend, who was vehemently against it. He said that, if I lost the weight, I would change. His personal experience involved knowing a woman who changed her looks and, he thought it caused her personality to change, even though I knew that really wasn’t the case. I assured him that, when you know who you are and WHOSE you are, you don’t change. He acquiesced, and in the days immediately following the surgery, he came to the hospital each evening to take me on my walk around the floor of the hospital, which was a requirement. The surgery has changed so much over the years that, even an extended hospital stay is not required, but back then, it was serious, major surgery. It was great to have his support, and that is one of the reasons he will always be the best of my very best friends.
My husband took me to my first visit to the surgeon after the surgery, and as we sat in the waiting room, he was appalled at the size of the other patients who came in. As we walked back to the car, he looked at me thoughtfully and asked seriously, “Were those people, or people that size, in there when you first came here?” When I told him that they were, he said, “Then why didn’t you just turn around and come home? You are nowhere nearly as big as those folks. They are HUGE! They should have made you feel real small!” I had to laugh at and with him then. He really knew how to put things in perspective for me. Just that comment let me know that I was alright with him, and he figured I was alright with the rest of the world.
The first month after the surgery was undoubtedly the hardest. Not being able to eat at all was hard. I lost 40 pounds quickly, with my husband’s help. He walked with me daily, and made certain I had all the skim milk, instant breakfast, and baby food I needed. My blood pressure went down and stayed down, just as my doctor had said it would. As I was gradually able to add on food, I got creative. When I made barbecue and Cole slaw for my family, I put some into the blender for myself. The blender and the food processor became my friends. By the time I went back to work in the fall, I was more than 60 pounds lighter.
Finding something to wear was a job. Because my size changed so rapidly, I went into expensive stores and tried on clothes to determine my size, and then I went to Goodwill and purchased less expensive clothing to wear. I thought about my grandmother when I did this, and I knew she would be pleased. She was the person who taught me how to think through situations and come up with solutions that may not have been orthodox, but they worked. For example, she knew she couldn’t afford the kind of clothes her children would need to showcase their many talents when they were growing up, and she wanted them to participate, without getting laughed at because they were “ragged”. So, she took in laundry from white people, washed the clothes, allowed her children to wear their fancy clothes to be in programs at school, washed the clothes again and sent them back to their owners. The owners were none the wiser. She would have been proud of my Goodwill purchases, and the way I managed to finance a total wardrobe makeover with a considerably small amount of money. I got down to size 14/16 in 13 months, and that is where I have managed to stay. I handled it like a “pro”, not like the “rookie” I was.