It seems that the saying is true that time heals all wounds. Or cleverly disguises them enough so as to allow us to get out of bed and face the world each day. Whichever it is, I am learning to cope with the choices I have made in the last couple of years that have brought me to the place I am at today. I am learning to let go of some of the anger and resentment I have carried on my back like a concrete block and stand straighter and accept the consequences for my lifes actions. Truthfully, most days I am held together by tape and glue. But there are other days I am stapled and nailed within an inch of my life and on those days, even if only for brief moments, I feel strong.
Like yesterday, when I opened my email expecting the usual spam, only to be pleasantly surprised with a comment to my last blog from The Chicken’s Consigliere which read in part:
“This is the most honest post I've ever read. What a talent you have for putting it all out there. Come back to blogging. I'm not one to talk because I post maybe once a month, but you have a voice that needs to be heard.”
And so I re-read my last post. I thought back to all the self help websites I have read through, and all the bariatric support group posts I have laughed and cried through, and all the stories I have heard from the women I have come into contact with who battle through the same war I wage upon myself. And, in that moment, I realized that the true honesty that is derived from this kind of angst is rarely spoke of. The fact that I allowed myself to evolve from such deep self hatred to a liveable acceptance is miraculous in and of itself. So, if only one word, or one post, or one line from my narrative strikes someone in such a way that they ask me to keep doing it, I feel it’s my duty to oblige. It’s less of an obligation to anyone and more of….an honor.
I don’t filter my words or thoughts. So, that sometimes makes it hard for me to let down my armor and put it all out there for the world to see and judge. But until I actually had gastric bypass, I thought it was taboo and rarely done. Turns out, it’s popularity was not only ever increasing, but had become a last ditch effort for millions who struggled with their weight and food addiction. It was the last resort to outliving our shame and overcoming our demons. And no one spoke of it. It was as dirty a secret as a back alley abortion in 1950. Everyone knew people were doing it but no one said it out loud. And I just don’t get WHY?
Yes, people are closed minded morons much of the time. They spew ugly judgments and jealousies in the form of words like “cheater” and “lazy”, but until you have walked a day in my 5 inch stilettos or made butt molds out of your excess abdominal skin like I have, I suggest you either do some research first, or sit your skinny ass down on the couch, have a cookie and shut the fuck up. Allow us to do what we have to do in order to get back just a small part of our lives and our dignity.
And as long as these timid and embarrassed voices are too afraid to tell the world how it really is to survive this war, I will speak loudly, proudly and unabashedly. You don’t have to understand it or appreciate it, read it or accept, just don’t judge it. That’s all we ask.