Journey of a Fat Girl
As I began to trace back the beginnings of my struggle with my weight, I have come to the conclusion that I was a fat fetus. Weighing in at almost 10 pounds upon my butt first entry into the world, I have no proof of ever being a “normal” size since. I even found a faded photograph myself at 2 years old in a yellow bikini, and there were fat rolls oozing out of material even then. There is not a single school picture to be found that doesn’t have me as the biggest kid, adorned in the ugliest clothes possible, as that is all they had in my size.
By the end of high school I was a champion dieter and pound looser. My earliest diet memory is that of a humiliating weigh in at a Weight Watchers meeting at the age of 5. The one part of dieting I could never master was keeping the weight off. I would lose 50 pounds but would turn around and gain 75. This cycle went on for years until, by my late 30’s, I was tipping the scales in excess of 600 pounds. I had lost my champion title for sure.
Serious measures had to be taken. There was no calorie counting or exercising, I could barely make a trip to the bathroom without heart palpitations, that was going to fix this. Then I lost my father to complications of his deathly morbid obesity, and a year later my youngest sister as well. So, after a lot of research and sleepless nights, I made the decision to have gastric bypass surgery. As excruciating as wrestling with the decision was, it was the easy part.
The insurance company, oh the insurance industry, don’t you just love them. I hope my sarcasm is obvious here. My husband and I argued, cried, begged and if we had the resources would have tried bribing them to get an approval. It is beyond my comprehension the lack of foresight the average insurance company employee processes. To me it is common sense that a woman weighing as much as an entire family would have medical complications, especially one with multiple auto-immune disorders. But miracle of all miracles, or just dumb luck, we spoke with a sympathetic adjuster who decided to actually investigate the advantages of the surgery for my specific case. And we have approval. Of course now I am petrified and ready to back out, but even backing up is hard when you can’t fit through the doors.
My surgery date was set for March 15, 2005, the date I now refer to as my new birthday. I had one of the best surgeons, skills and beside manner, and was out of the hospital 4 days later already 45 pounds down. 1 month goes by and I have lost 89 pounds. And by the 6th month mark I had lost 160 pounds.
To date I have lost 440 pounds, and feel like I am living an entirely different life. Do I recommend this journey to everyone with a weight issue? Absolutely not, but for me it was a matter of life and death. My only memory of my former self is enough excess skin to make a set of luggage, and there is no way you can convince me that my fight with Lupus and Fibromyalgia isn’t aided by the loss of the weight. This is just my journey as a “Spoonie” and it is far from over. In fact, in some ways, I think it has just begun.
Article written by Staff Writer, TammySue Davis
TammySue lives in North Carolina with her husband and two youngest daughters. She also has a married daughter and two grandchildren. She is the owner of an event planning and catering company and lives with Lupus, Neuro-Sarcoidosis and Fibromyalgia. Through it all, she lives life with a determined sense of humor and huge belly laughs.
-
TammySue
-
Beverly
-
Renea Popdan
-
Gail Ruff
-
Darlene
-
Ellen
-
sammi
-
Melissa
-
Kathleen Auen
-
Steph
-
Lillian
-
Teri Schultz
-
Penny Susan
-
Theresa
-
Amy
-
Fibromom
-
Kellye
-
Jennifer Neal
-
Toni
-
Tami Brotosky
-
Teri Kennedy
-
Rose (twitter name @RosaryBeadz)
-
Chelle
-
Joan Penfold