Webchickadee

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Dear Mum,
 
I was seven when I discovered that you were fat, ugly and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful - in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous, just like a movie star. Whenever I had the chance I'd pull out that wondrous white bathing suit hidden in your bottom drawer and imagine a time when I'd be big enough to wear it; when I'd be like you.
But all of that changed when, one night, we were dressed up for a party and you said to me, ''Look at you, so thin, beautiful and lovely. And look at me, fat, ugly and horrible.''
At first I didn't understand what you meant.
''You're not fat,'' I said earnestly and innocently, and you replied, ''Yes I am, darling. I've always been fat; even as a child.''
 
In the days that followed I had some painful revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that:
1. You must be fat because mothers don't lie.
2. Fat is ugly and horrible.
3. When I grow up I'll look like you and therefore I will be fat, ugly and horrible too.
Years later, I looked back on this conversation and the hundreds that followed and cursed you for feeling so unattractive, insecure and unworthy. Because, as my first and most influential role model, you taught me to believe the same thing about myself.
With every grimace at your reflection in the mirror, every new wonder diet that was going to change your life, and every guilty spoon of ''Oh-I-really-shouldn't'', I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.
 
Just like you, I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway? And because I believed I was fat, I knew I was no good.
But now that I am older, and a mother myself, I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.
Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim chic, she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at 79 years of age. She used to put on make-up to walk to the letterbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.
 
I remember her ''compassionate'' response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was, ''I don't understand why he'd leave you. You look after yourself, you wear lipstick. You're overweight - but not that much.''
Before Dad left, he provided no balm for your body-image torment either.
 
''Jesus, Jan,'' I overheard him say to you. ''It's not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.''
That night at dinner I watched you implement Dad's ''Energy In, Energy Out: Jesus, Jan, Just Eat Less'' weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. (Remember how in 1980s Australian suburbia, a combination of mince, cabbage, and soy sauce was considered the height of exotic gourmet?) Everyone else's food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.
As you sat in front of that pathetic scoop of mince, silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. Not even when your shoulders started heaving from your distress. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth - as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own - paled into insignificance when compared with the centimetres you couldn't lose from your waist.
 
It broke my heart to witness your despair and I'm sorry that I didn't rush to your defence. I'd already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. I'd even heard Dad describe losing weight as a ''simple'' process - yet one that you still couldn't come to grips with. The lesson: you didn't deserve any food and you certainly didn't deserve any sympathy.
 
But I was wrong, Mum. Now I understand what it's like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most, and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of our reach. I also know the pain of internalising these messages. We have become our own jailors and we inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up.
 
No one is crueler to us than we are to ourselves.
But this madness has to stop, Mum. It stops with you, it stops with me and it stops now. We deserve better - better than to have our days brought to ruin by bad body thoughts, wishing we were otherwise.
 
And it's not just about you and me any more. It's also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only 3 and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness, her confidence and her potential. I don't want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset; that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman, we need to be the best role models we can. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us, we need to believe it ourselves.
 
The older we get, the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends - and the people who love them - wouldn't give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body's thighs or the lines on its face wouldn't matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.
Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical ''flaws'' is a moment wasted, a precious slice of life that we will never get back.
 
Let us honour and respect our bodies for what they do instead of despising them for how they appear. Focus on living healthy and active lives, let our weight fall where it may, and consign our body hatred in the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago, my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love, beauty and wisdom. I saw my Mum.
Love, Kasey xx
 
This is an excerpt from Dear Mum, a collection of letters from Australian sporting stars, musicians, models, cooks and authors revealing what they would like to say to their mothers before it's too late, or would have said if only they'd had the chance.
All royalties go to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Published by Random House and available now.

I am almost at my one year mark. I really can not believe how much I have accomplished!! I am so much stronger, wiser and in control. Not only with my eating but with my life as a whole. My confidence is through the roof, my whole outlook on life and the way I approach life is different. Who knew taking control over my eating, would not only improve my health, but my life?!
 
I wish a year form now, this feeling stays the same. I wish all the good habits that I have picked up during this first year, will stay with me forever.

When I went through my pre-op diet I was hungry, irritated, and seriously reconsidering what I was about to do. I decided that if I could not get through what my surgeon wanted me to do before the surgery - exactly- that I was not mentally ready for weight loss surgery. I did it. I never strayed from the guidelines and I lost 12 pounds and felt really good about it the night before my surgery.
 
I know so many people personally that "try to beat the system". They figure out what they can get away with eating. Then they are stunned when the scale stalls or shows pounds gained. This surgery does not control what is brought to your mouth. For only a short time will it control how much of that food goes to your new stomach. This surgery is a great tool to give me a chance to break the cycles of bad habits. I haven't had fast food (pizza, McDonalds, Subway............) since January 6, 2013. Of course I miss it. But I will never give them a dime of my money again. I feel betrayed actually. All the money I have wasted on that garbage food- and in return I get 100 plus pounds of excess weight to carry.
 
I am not going to try to see what I can get away with. I am serious about getting healthy. So the only foods I eat will be what the bariatric surgeon says I can. High protein/ low fat and low carbs.
 
Mentally I have created an atmosphere for success. I go to support groups once a month for weight loss surgery. And I go to overeaters anonymous and I have a behavior therapist to visit 2x month. Matters of weight take place in the mind and this surgery does not take place in your head.

Happpy Birrrthhddaayyyy to meeeee! The greatest present I could have ever given myself? VSG. Period. End of story. I paid out of pocket and went broke for this surgery, and my only regret is that I didn't do this sooner. I've never in my life experienced this kind of weight loss success, the little bit I did came from extreme dieting, deprevation, and I dare say an eating disorder. Nothing ever lasted. I might get excited at a few Weight Watchers meetings than, bam, it would come right back on with in a month or a couple of weeks. I use to be relieved to lose just a few pounds over the course of a month, today I'm now down over -40 lbs since surgery 12 weeks ago. This week I lost an addition -2lbs and yesterday I celebrated my 29th birthday. Normally this event has me plotting out my food plan of attack 2 weeks in advance. I would eat anything and everything and use my birthday as an excuse to binge. This year I did not, and could not. Old habits are hard to break, I even picked up a couple of my favorite go to items, and low and behold my sleeve wasn't having any of it. I felt foolish for even trying.
 
I found a dress (a business bodycon style dress) in my closet that I bought over 2 years ago online. I was overweight but I figured if I lost 20 lbs it might fit and I was in love with the style. When it arrived in the mail I was so deeepresssseeeeddd to learn that even if I lost 20 lbs that dress was NOT going to fit. I felt bad and humiliated as usual, but instead of returning it as I should have, I hung it up, tags still attached and moved it to the back of my closet... because maybe, just maybe one day something magical might happen. Last week I rediscovered it and almost gasped. Could it be?? The dress?! But have I lost enough???? Well, I put it on and bam... it fit. Like a glove. It only took -40lbs! But it fits!
 
I wore it for the first time yesterday on my birthday, then wore it watch Maya Angelou lecture on women in leadership, then proceeded to a dinner date. It wasn't a huge blow out birthday, but it was GREAT. And I felt GREAT. And I felt beautiful. I haven't been able to say that in a long time. I felt beautiful. Today I took the day off from work, and spent have the day at a spa getting a massage and facial, and the other half of the day completely gutting my closet. I literally cleared out HALF of my clothes that are too big for me. My room is a disaster, but I knew that these items had to go. I finished up with a late lunch with my exboyfriend who has been randomly appearing a lot more lately (giggles). Tonight is my birthday party with friends, followed by a going away party for another friend tomorrow night. I'm about to see a whole lot of people I haven't seen in a while and I know there will be LOTS to be said!
 
Birthdays use to be about food, and celebrating with food. This birthday was about celebrating me, and I went a totally different direction. I definitly see more birthdays with Spa Day's involved including a new special birthday outfit. Here's to new beginnings, new bodies, and new traditions. Cheers!
 
Height: 5'9
 
Highest (Surgery) Weight: 216
 
1st Primary Goal Weight: 169
2nd Optimal Goal Weight: 145
 
Sleeve Journey:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~> 8/17/12- PreOp/Surgery Day w/Pics Posted in Blog
Week 1 (8/24): 204.8 (-11.2)
Week 2 (8/31): 200.6 (-4.2)
Week 3 (9/7): 196.8 (-3.8)
Week 4 (9/14): 193.5 (-3.3)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~> 9/17/12- 1 Month Anniversary w/Pics Posted in Blog
Week 5 (9/21): 191.6 (-1.9)
Week 6 (9/28): 190.1 (-1.5)
Week 7 (10/5): 187.0 (-3.1)
Week 8 (10/12): 181.9 (-5.1)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~> 10/17/12- 2 Month Anniversary w/Pics Posted in Blog
Week 9 (10/19): 181.4 (-.5)
Week 10 (10/26): 177.9 (-3.5)
Week 11 (11/02): 176.8 (-1.1)
Week 12 (11/09): 174.7 (-2.1)

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May 23rd my husband and I flew from our hometown to San Diego California. Arriving at 11:30 at night we decided to get a hotel at the Sheraton Hotel and Marina and wait till the following morning to begin our journey to mexico. The Sheraton was only a couple of blocks away from the airport. The rooms were nice and the beds were comfortable.
 
About an hour after we arrived and were settled in our hotel room I received a call from Omar (Dr. Kelly's Coordinator). He was checking to make sure that our flight had arrived and to let us know that Cecy (Doctor Kelly's wife) would be picking us up at 11:00 a.m.
 
The following morning we check out of our hotel room and waited in the lobby for Cecy to pick us up. She arrived around 11:40 a.m. in a white passenger van and picked us up. She was a little late but Omar kept in contact with us on her where abouts, so I was not concerned. Cecy was extremely nice and accomodating.
 
20 mintues later we were at the Mexican border. The van was searched at the border by the mexican border patrol. We didn't have to show our ID's to enter Mexico. As soon as we were through the border, we were off to the Oasis Hospital to meet Omar and Dr. Kelly.
 
Once we arrived at the hospital we were greeted by Omar and he escorted us to the admission personal of the hospital. Dr Kelly was waiting for us in the lobby of the hospital. Check in was a breeze, only taking about 10 minutes. After we were admitted to the hosptial Dr. Kelly and Omar escorted us to our room and the testing began immediately. (Chest X-Ray, EKG, Urine Sample, and Blood Samples) Many Doctors and staff came in my room and introduced themselves.
 
Xochilt was my first nurse at the Oasis, she was very nice and helpful. She was able to answer most of my questions, however she spoke very little english. She was able to start my IV with no problems.
 
After all of my questions and concerns were answered by the hosptial staff and Doctor Kelly, I was ready for surgery!