So, tomorrow is my surgery!

This week has been so incredibly long it is ridiculous. The liquid diet kind of kicked my ass, but I stayed on top of it. Keeping the final result in mind was the only thing that kept me from slipping up.

Support from my friends and family was something else that I really needed. At first I didn't even think that I needed so much support from them. Because, I figured if I wanted to do it, I was gonna do it, and that would be that. But through the last 14 weeks I found out who is really happy for me and who really isn't. Which is good. I guess you could say people's true colors came out. Even if I considered them to be my sister, doesn't mean she is going to agree with everything I do. Even if she has seen everything that I have gone through...

Whatever. Not many people even know that I am getting this done. Which is good. I am comfortable with the few people that know, that are close to me. Seven people know about it. and One person told me it was stupid and that I didn't need it.

Supporters:

• Mommy
  
• Grandma
  
• Evan
  
• Rosalie
  
• Brittany
  
• Linda
  

Others:

• Lauren
  

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I am trying to figure out whether or not I should share the past with everyone. Which I guess would be healthier. In a way. To talk about it again, and let everyone into my struggles as a child and a teenager. To give you a back story on what has lead me to this decision and why I believe so strongly in not judging someone by their cover.

When I was two years old, my Mother and Father got a divorce. I lived with my Father, because he had gotten primary custody. I visited my Mother every Tuesday night, and every other weekend. When I was four, my Father met my Step Mom. She lived up in the Catskills and we would take weekend trips to visit her, and her daughter. Her daughter was older than me, by eleven months and she was one of those kids that never made a mess. She didnt know who the Flintstones were, and if there was one thing out of plave in her playroom, **** hit the fan. I thought this was awesome, though. I had a new best friend. My new sister. Eight years went by and my sister and I grew closer and closer and we had a new little sister and a new little brother. But it was painfully clear I was being treated differently by my Step Mother. Linda, my friends Mother was like my "other Mother". I would go to her house and talk to her about everything that would go on in my household. Which she knew. Because she was best friends with my Step Mother. I told her everything in confidence and she always kept it between her and I. She used to joke about how I was Cinderella. I would do the chores. i.e. Mowing the lawn, Cleaning the gutters, emptying and filling the dishwasher, cleaning the bathrooms every week, vacuuming, dusting, vacuuming the pool, and taking care of the chickens. Which I never really complained about, because I always knew I would be able to know what hard work gets me. And how important responsibilites were. While my "golden child" older sister was treated like a princess. Catered to, showered with praise, and put on a giant pedistle. And, to be completely honest...She was nothing special. But, i digress. I always tried my best, and I worked hard at home, as well as at work. I tried to please everyone around me but it was never enough. Never enough for my Step Mom. I was never "perfect" enough, or good enough at academics (like the princess) I slept too much, I ate too much, I was too fat, I was too lazy. Nothing was ever good enough. For the "evil" Step Mother.

Soon, I couldn't take the abuse anymore and I stuck up for myself. And I told her she was wrong, and had no right. We argued and argued, and when we were done, she called my Father. Telling him that I attacked her. And that I'm a spoiled brat. I moved out the next day. To my Mother's house. Thats when my eating went down hill. Depression kicked in. And I was miserable. On October 2nd, I saw my little Sister, Brianna, and my little Brother, Mitchel for the first time in two and a half years. I saw my Father for the first time in seven months, and I wasn't allowed to speak to any of them...Because the Step Mother was there.

Everyone always tells me I'm really strong. When in reality, I'm not that strong. I just deal. I don't see it as the end of the world. Don't get me wrong, I miss them like crazy. But I know that things will change. Who knows where I will be with my family this time, next year. All I can do is think positively. And thats what I'm going to keep doing.