A New Beginning, with a different finishing goal in sight

A big part of myself self-defines as "fat."

And it's not entirely a negative association.  I've been lucky to not have any of the "co-morbidities" of obesity -- hypertension, diabetes, high cholesterol, sleep apnea -- which perhaps has made it seem less serious. 

I still feel enabled (as opposed to disabled) -- I can walk miles without stopping, and run for the bus without huffing and puffing.  I can trek through the jungle.  For my thesis, I DID!

But it hasn't meant that I've been blind to the negative sides.  Shopping, while still fun, is always difficult.  The fat from my arms often prohibits me from wearing many fitted shirts, jackets, and dresses.  The disparity of size between my upper half and my lower half makes this "interesting" -- absolutely disallows certain looks, and really helps with others.  Many people who are my size long for the days when they can fit into a 16 -- or a Large -- item.  If it's cut A-line, I can do it no problem.

For these reasons especially, I've been able to hide my shame, and my true size for years.  No one would believe how much I weigh, and I've convinced my mother for years, who is also obese but weighs less than me, that I weigh 200 pounds.  And she believes me.

The reality is far worse.  I weigh 270 pounds.

I weigh too much to go skydiving.  For many amusement park attractions, I am too fat.  "One size fits all" usually goes up to 250 pounds.  For someone who never says "no" and is always keen to try a new adventure, there are many adventures that are no longer an option for me at this weight.

Aside from this journal, and even scarier are my recent attempts to lose weight and their failures.  I may not have blogged it, but for 3.5 months last year, I worked out daily, walked nearly five miles during the course of each day, and restricted myself to a 1500-calorie/day diet.

Want to know how much weight I lost?

None.  In fact, if I deviated from day-to-day, I gained weight.  And this failure ... is a symptom of PCOS. I haven't seen my OB-GYN about it, but I have fears, that are of course exacerbated by the "truths" of the internet.

Combined with my dad's late-onset Type II diabetes, it becomes imperative that I work towards no longer being self-defined as "fat."

This past month, I've begun preliminary stages for gastric bypass surgery.  It's no "quick fix" or "easy out" -- it will be a lifelong change, and a difficult one. But it's scary.  Not because it's a surgery, but because it will change me, and my self-definitions will also have to change.

My fiancé loves my ass -- will it disappear?  How will I manage the necessary change in my relationship with food, and emotional eating? 

I also don't intend on telling most of my friends.  I have selected about 3 extremely close friends that I have told, along with my mentor at University.  But will I be forced to tell people eventually? I don't want to Star Jones it.

I guess I've never seen my obesity as something that needed to be "fixed," but by acknowledging surgery, I am also admitting that I am trying to "fix" it.   I am really just trying to improve myself: Improve my health, self-esteem, and make positive changes for my future.   And blogging about it here!  For reals.