I clearly remember the first time I thought about my weight. I had spent all summer having slumber parties with one of my best friends the summer between 3rd and 4th grade. We would stay up late eating pizza and ice cream and soda and it never once dawned on me that maybe I shouldn't (and I was a kid, I'm glad it didn't). That year, her and I were on a new basketball team together, and unlike the year before where we ordered the same size, I had to get the size larger. A few years later, I remember my mom rewarding me with shopping trips if I could lose weight every week (although I think part of that was her pushing issues of her weight onto me). A few years later, I remember hating my friend for complaining that she had gone from a size 4 to a size 6 when I was a whooping size 12. By high school though, things leveled out for me, I only had a few more pounds on me than other girls (I was still a size 12, sometimes a 10) and I was totally okay with it. Once in college, I even lost weight instead of gaining that rumored "Freshmen 15."

But by the time I was 20, things were beginning to go the wrong direction for me. This was the first time I looked into weight loss surgery (although at this time I doubt I would have been a candidate because I was only 30 overweight at this point). I never made an appointment, instead I did Weight Waters and lost 20 of the pounds. So began the True Battle of Weight Loss. You see, at this time, I was getting out of an emotionally, and towards the end physically, abusive relationship and my trust in everyone, including myself, was gone. This lead to me flunking out of college, befriending an equally emotionally unstable Marine with a sex addiction, going to cosmetology school and drinking my way through it, jumping from job to job, and eating my emotions because I was "totally okay with everything in my life."

Four years later, I had gained 30 more pounds, dropped all of my toxic relationships, moved back in with my parents and decided that I needed real help because Weight Watchers and Adkins and working out and "just being happy" weren't cutting it anymore. I was done having to try on the next size up because I'd outgrown the size I'd worn for the last year. And I was done ordering clothes online because they have a better selection of "Plus Size" clothes. And I was tired of looking in the mirror and seeing that I had formed yet a new dimple in some unflattering location on my body. I couldn't take the looks I got when I went to an amusement park with my nieces and the ride operator telling me that I'm over the weight limit. I'm tired of not being able to run around the back yard with my nieces in general, I don't care where we are.

In April, I saw my GP. I wanted him to run a blood panel to make sure that I had no thyroid issues, or any other health issues, that could be causing my weight gain. Nope! Aside from my weight, I'm a totally healthy 24 year old American girl. So he put in a referral to the same practice where my mom had her surgery. I swear it was only a week later when I got a call to make my appointment. It didn't seem possible. That Friday, I would be meeting my surgeon.

When I went in, I took my mom. She's been there, she knows what questions to ask, she tell if the situation feels right, and she's great emotional support. Dr. Henke was great. He asked me routine questions, asked if I had any questions, and went over the different types of procedures. I told him that I need to lose maximum weight, and that I need the Bypass. So that's what's in my plan.

I have done all of the insurance requirements (although I'm still waiting on my last dietitian appointment next week). And then it's waiting for their approval. That's what's killing me the most, waiting for them. I wish once I finished my appointment with the dietitian, I could just call the doctor and ask for the first surgery date available. Although, I'm sure that's all of us that go through insurance. My mom tells me not to worry about that, that it's out of my control, that they have no reason to say no, etc. But my brain goes into overdrive anytime I can't control the outcome. And this outcome is quite important for the rest of my life.

Well, I guess I'll check in later, let you know how it goes with the dietitian next week.