Wednesday, March 3, 2010

In my self created land of positivity and forgiveness, there are always negative undertones hiding below the surface waiting to pull me under. Luckily, I have developed a very thick skin and a superhero-esque upper body strength and I can swim beyond the negativity in a single stroke. I lived too many years involved in other peoples misery, and I absolutely refuse to do it this time around. Life is too short, and sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, you just have to throw in the towel, tend to your wounds and wait for the bruises to heal so you can get on with your life. One very important lesson I have learned is that it takes a certain kind of person to continue to fight a losing battle, but it takes an extraordinary person to know when to stop fighting and move on to become something better.

Today is the two week marker to surgery and I had my pre-testing done this morning. Everything checked out well and I am on my way and I am so happy and so nervous all at once. I have these horrible dreams about all these little things going wrong that prolong the surgical date. In one dream I had nail polish on my toes and the surgeon got pissed and sent me home and made me wait 6 months. In another dream I showed up at the hospital only to find out they had me scheduled for an abortion instead of gastric bypass and I had to show them an ID to prove to them that I had no uterus. I would love to send these little nuggets of insanity to a dream analyst to hear what she has to say.

I realize my OCD is kicking in and the fact that I have no control over the procedure or the outcome is just frying the receptors in my ADHD brain that want to be able to stand outside of myself and assist with the surgery. I picture a posh operating room with hot McSteamy and McDreamy doctors fussing over me, and a trampy nurse in fish nets and glow in the dark stripper shoes filing her nails in the corner. I, of course, am wearing a silk hospital gown, sipping a latte and reading a Cosmo while they perform the procedure and when they are done, I hop off the table 100 pounds lighter. If only life were that simple.

I like options and I have made one for myself should my surgeon not like toenail polish or should I have accidentally scheduled myself for an abortion on my non-existent child. Should this all go horribly awry, I am going to grow into one of those eccentric middle aged women who wear tacky gold bangle bracelets, clogs and colorful muumuu's and say phrases like oh vey and meshuggenah. I will dye my hair a frightening shade of red, tease it and coat it with Aqua Net.

It's always good to have a back up plan.

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