Death of the fat me.

Well here goes plenty.

I am fat.  I don’t mean 5 lbs of “I ate too much pizza” fat.  I mean fat.  I don’t ask anyone if “I look fat in these pants” because I already know the answer – a resounding YES!!!

For years I tried to soften the word and my reality by calling myself “fluffy”.  Seriously Lisa?  Fluffy?  I guess I thought it was kinder than chubby, husky or overweight, and certainly nicer than admitting I’m (gasp) OBESE.  That word is reserved for fat people.  Oh wait – that’s me.

So how the fuck did I get to this point?  Hell if I know.  Liar pants on fire.  I do too.  I ate.  Duh.  But WHY did I eat.  Oh now we’re onto something.

I recall getting compliments from people (and not always my family so I know they had to be legit) about my legs and how shapely they were.  I had muscle definition.  I didn’t have a tummy or a fat ass.  I was just me.  To be honest, I don’t really recall my weight being much of a thought to me as a teenager.  I had stupid curly hair – THAT was my own personal hell.  Yet I was never asked out on a date, and as far as I know, not a single guy I went to high school with saw me as anything other than just Lisa.

A quick story.  There was a career/college day in my high school gym one day.  I don’t recall much other than there were ballots for draws to win shit.  I must have put my name in at least one, because I won a free consultation at a modeling agency in Vancouver.  Keep in mind, all they did was pull my name out of a bucket – my looks had nothing to do with it.  I had zero interest, but whatever, it was cool to win something.  Word got out to my classmates.  Well didn’t I have a lovely (sarcasm) conversation with this guy and 2 girls that he followed around like a dog in heat about my big win?  Sure I did.  He says to me “Why do you need a modeling contract, you’re not pretty.  Both X and Y are gorgeous and deserve it more than you do – you should give it to one of them.  It’s totally wasted on you.”  Gee thanks douchebag.  I don’t recall exactly what I said, but I can be sure a “fuck you” was thrown in there, and this made me want to go to the stupid consultation now!  And I did go with my overly excited Momager in tow.  It was fun tour, they loved my legs and blah blah blah – that was the end of my modeling career.  Essentially it was a money grab on their end.  The thing is, that went down when I was 17 or so.  I’m 44 now.  I still remember those shitty words.  I remember a lot of unkind things, but that one sticks out.

My self esteem was taking a beating that year, and subsequent following years.  After high school I got into partying and I loved it.  Thankfully I danced my heart-out most nights with my besties at the one and only nightclub around, so that helped keep my weight down.  It was after I left my hometown, moving to the big city of Vancouver and leaving what was familiar things began to change.  The freedom to go out for dinner and make whatever I wanted for dinner was novel and fun.  I was putting on a bit of weight – the freshman 15 without the immense tuition fees.  I joined a gym in my efforts to keep fit.  I recall the chick taking that caliper thingy to me and doing some math – coming to the conclusion that my BMI of 24 was fat.  Oh self, I wish I could have told you that you were just fine!  I worked out daily, sometimes twice a day. I was looking pretty good.  I was strong.  It was a good thing I was.

I could go on with a super long story about an incident that changed my life.  I won’t.  I’ll just say that I survived an attempted sexual assault and beating from a neighbours drugged out son, who intended to kill me in my own home.  It took 6 cops to take him down.   He only got 3 months in jail, and a restraining order.  I got months of therapy and a need to be with my family who were all in Ontario.  I left BC, all my friends and started a new life.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that incident in particular started my fatness.  I wanted to be invisible.  I wanted to hide.  I didn’t want to be hurt like that again.  I thought I had done something to bring that attack on myself.  So I began to make myself undesirable, unnoticed and unattractive.  I ate to sooth and comfort myself with a big bag of Lay’s potato chips.  It worked I was shopping in plus-size stores.  I was fat.  And I was ok with that.  For several years in fact.  Oh sure I tried dieting – pretty much all of them.  Gained it all back too – and then some.  Depression and anxiety held hands with my fat and we all danced around in the circle – blaming one another for not knowing how to get out of this shitty dance but not letting go.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when my mindset started to change.  The death of my mom maybe?  Seeing just how fragile and short life can be – and that it’s to be valued and lived to it’s fullest.  Hard to do that when I’m pretty much carrying around an extra person. I’d been working on the inside me, and needed the outside me to keep up.  Hard to keep up when you’re fat.  A few more attempts and failures.  I needed inspiration – and I got it from my aunt Kim.  I wanted to be just like her.

So it begins.  After a few years of research and discussion, a year of consultations, classes and appointments with specialists – I am kissing my old self goodbye.  Today is my last day of being fat.

Tuesday, July 21st, 2015 is the first day for the new me.  I begin a liquid pre-op diet for 2 weeks, and go in for gastric bypass surgery on August 4th.

I am scared, nervous and worried, but I am also excited, committed, positive and hopeful.  Most of all, I am looking forward to reclaiming my life.

Good bye fat me.  Hello healthy me!!