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No movement, but there's plenty to think about. Cue introspection

Somebody SOMEWHERE is probably wondering, “What the heck is happening with Alia and her surgery?”

Well… I’ll tell you. I am in surgical limbo. After my psych evaluation yielded the result that I was perfectly fit for surgery, but that I had expressed a desire to seek therapeutic treatment for issues stemming from a plethora of other sources unrelated to the surgery. The surgeon’s office interpreted that to mean that I would be barred from surgery until I sorted these issues out. Well, I called the surgeon practically fuming because, and I’m paraphrasing here, [if you think for any moment that I am going to wait until I have sorted out all of my emotional issues before I have this surgery, then you will never see me on the operating table because it has literally taken 27 years to gather up all of this emotional trauma and it isn’t going to be undone in any short period of time!]

I was, at this point, pretty damn done with the waiting game that I had been playing for the past 8 months. I’m watching my best friend practically melt away and I’m here sitting at a steady 274 pounds, pissed off because I can see the person I want to be in my mind and I want to make moves to be her. I can’t fit anything I own comfortably and faced with the choice between buying more clothing that I’ll someday not fit any more (expensive clothing at that,) and calling and putting a little pressure on the surgeon’s office, I opted for the latter. Keep in mind that once they submit to the insurance company it takes two weeks for approval and another couple of weeks for me to start my liquid diet, I’m looking at Christmas here and I’m officially going to drop out of the pageant because this took so long. So I am now extra pissed off because I’m officially too old to compete again and I just found my first freaking gray hair.

I’m SURE that I’m being extra dramatic about this but, I DO NOT CARE. I am tired of being fat and I am tired of feeling disgusting. I’m tired of buying clothes for my fat body. I’m exhausted all of the time and my knees feel like that might actually give way underneath the weight, not an exaggeration. There are some that might say that I am divulging too much, but I choose to say as much as I am in the hopes that someone might stumble across this blog and say, “I understand exactly how she feels,” or “I am feeling that way right now.” That’s why I say everything that I say or have ever said on the internet, it’s all calculated. So here’s a piece of red meat to chew on: I was a chubby little girl until I grew taller and then my weight distributed and I still weighed the same, but I was taller and didn’t look fat. Because my weight never changed, I was always under the impression that I was fat through high school and more in college. My self-esteem was dangerously low and I suffered consequences for that. I have fought with my weight so long, that I don’t have any idea what “ideal” for my body looks like. I just know that at one point in time, men found me attractive. In fact, men flocked to me. Slowly, “boyfriends” started to cheat and I began to eat emotionally turning the whole sordid mess into a self-fulfilling prophecy. In my mind, men cheated because of my weight and I ate because men cheated thus gaining more weight and then the cycle just repeated itself. Now, I’m in a great position to say F U C K it all because I am single, I have no ties, and I have no deep desire to worry about it. I am literally free to focus on me, lose the weight, and then rub each and e v e r y single one of their noses in the glory that will be the new me.

There are some that would say that my expectations are too high, and to them I would reply with this sentiment: I know my expectations are high. I have had extremely low expectations for so long that I started to doubt my ability to be exceedingly great at anything. But this is my health, my life, my future…this is my chance at the life I have always wanted to live and I don’t know that any one person deserves that more than I do. Or is it that I am getting such a late start on the turn around that people think they can tell me where my expectations should appropriately lie? I want to be 160; I want to weigh less in a year than I weighed in high school. I want to go to the gym faithfully and come away with abs that would make men swoon. If my boobs shrink, I’m going to get implants so that I have perky breasts because, I’ve NEVER had perky breasts. I want to go to the store and not agonize over finding the right bathing suit that conceals this and flatters that, I want to buy a bikini and rock the shit out of it. That’s what I want. Because I’m single, I want a harem of men to rival Cleopatra because…I’M SINGLE, I’M GROWN, AND BECAUSE I CAN. Now, the sentence immediately before this one assumes that I fail to work out my man issues with a therapist.

If I am able to salvage any of my human emotions, then I’d like to find one man that never knew me at my largest and be able to go into a relationship without a lot of baggage tying me to the hurt and pain of my past failures and weight issues…if that can’t happen, then I’ll take the harem and the unemotional, unbridled, torrid love affairs. I have a history of failing to remain emotionally DEtached, but I spent years being detached successfully up until Relationship Failures 1 and 2, henceforth knows as RF1 and RF2 respectively. RF 1 softened me up and RF 2 broke me because after him, I was actively searching for a replacement without taking the time to cultivate and grow it. I wanted an immediate fix and I set myself up for failure. Now, I’m trying to tell myself that A. I don’t need a relationship, and B. I don’t want one either. That solves the whole issues surrounding the fact that I can’t find a healthy one.


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