Yep need to start documenting this before I forget everything. Not to say I won't have the visual reminders to help me remember where I started (pictures, clothes, bum imprint on the couch) but it is the other things that fade with time that do not have a physical reminder. The worry about the what ifs and can I , the concern about what will happen and what won't happen.
Right now my biggest concern is not the surgery. Considering, in 6 weeks they are removing a significant portion of my stomach you would think that is the worry. But nope I have blown right through that like an out of control 3 year old in the toy department at Christmas. I have even moved beyond the thought of recovery pain and the "possible" side effects it will bring. Nope I am already into....what if it doesn't work - which of course turns into it doesn't look like its working in after surgery thought (always wanted to be ahead of the class even in grade school...skipped right past glue eating to advanced macaroni art).
Yep that is where I am at. I see pictures, read forums and absorb before and after pictures like a teenage boy absorbs girlie mags....but still I have that voice (to be named later) in my head saying what if it doesn't work. What if you go through all of this just to lose it and then gain? That doesn't mean I don't want to do it. I'm funny that way I still want to try it however unlike the tattoo I "tried" this can not be covered with clothes. Once people know they will start to judge and comment (you haven't lost much, was it REALLY worth it, or my favorite you looked better before).
Nope this change will be out there for all to see, judge and comment about...which brings me to my issue...what if it doesn't work.....my head says it will but my inner skinny person who is really shy questions me.
Maybe I should be worrying about excess skin and whether because of it my "hidden" tattoo will be even harder to find in its wrinkles .....
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.
Ok, I might get blackballed and lose my MAN CARD for admitting this, but here goes. I was cleaning out the closet, looking for smaller pants to wear. I started rummaging for something that would fit, found a nice pair to try on. They were a PERFECT fit, better than any pants I've put on. Looked good in the mirror too! All that walking is shaping my butt up! Did I really say that last line?
Up till recently, you could lean me up against a flat wall and there’d be no gaps anywhere from the top of my back to my calves. My butt was so flat… How flat was it? It was often mistaken for an end table when I lay on the floor.
I looked at the tags only to find that they weren’t men’s pants at all - but a ladies size 16 that got left behind from a previous girlfriend! They must’ve mistakenly gotten mixed in with the tons of other pants and shirts that were put in the “I’ll be able to wear that again someday,” wishful thinking pile.
For the MAN Committee, I know you have no knowledge of this, but, a 16 is the 1X Women's Plus Size according to Overstock.com. And I DID have to look that up; it didn’t come from memory or previous experience wearing women’s clothing! (So MAN Committee, please take that into account when voting.)
This means that I now have the body of a woman with voluptuous hips!
I haven't posted on this site in so long, nor have I been active on the boards, and it's not only because of finals, papers, projects, and my thesis, but because I feel guilty.
I haven't worked out in over a month. My diet? Completely out the window. I've eaten pasta a few times and potatoes. I got stuck with a giant box of left over candy from a school project and ate a lot of it. The scale went up to 231, but now it's back down to 224. I'm not taking my supplements like I should and I still haven't gotten my blood work done because I haven't been home. My hair loss is still going on but it's not that bad. No one can even notice and some days I can't either.
Recently, I went out drinking, and let's say getting used to the lower body weight and the fact that liquid goes right through your stomach is a nightmare for consuming way too much alcohol and having nothing to throw up. So I learned my lesson the hard way. I shouldn't even be drinking anyway, but I'm young and graduation is around the corner. I just need to limit myself to one or two drinks.
I've been so blessed to be able to have this surgery and I feel like I'm wasting it. I'm so busy with school work, but once it's all over, next week my butt is getting back to the gym and this time it will be for good because my home gym is so much better than my school's gym. I'm more comfortable there!
I really wanted to hit that 50 pound loss for graduation on the 20th this month, but it might be possible the week before graduation to lose a few pounds to get close. I also have my 55 mile bike ride with my dad, and I think it's going to really test me because I'm out of shape again. (Heh, maybe I've never been in shape) but we're taking our time and spreading it out over two days.
So that's what's been going on in my life. I hope everyone is doing well.
HatheryOnHerWay reacted to abbygirl for a blog entry, Yep..need to document this....