Only because I distinctly remember the first time I ever saw a 3 as the first number on the scale. Mortified does not even begin to describe what I was feeling. Add to that embarrassed, depressed, disgusted, incredulous. But the worst of all, hopeless. I saw that number and I felt utterly hopeless. I thought, "Well, it's all over now. I have gone too far, there is no hope of ever losing enough weight." And I stupidly self sabotaged my way up the scale. Instead of getting my head together and taking control, I let that number give me license to eat even more and become even more addicted.
Well, today felt like a MAJOR victory for me on the scale. I weighed in at......299 lbs!! Yeah, I know, it's 1 pound away from the evil number and I could gain it again just from normal post op up and downs. But that's ok! I know I can lose it again because I have already done it! Most of us WLSers celebrate when we get to ONEderland, and I certainly will when that happens! But getting to TWOville feels pretty damn good for now!
"What is she gonna talk about now?"
Basically, I've always been the "fat friend", the "fat cousin", the "fat ____" you fill in the blank. Started gaining when I was young, around 8 or 9 years old. From then on I just kept getting bigger and bigger. I can diet and lose weight, but I can't keep it off by myself. I did this surgery to feel better. To be healthier. To give myself a chance to live longer. I want to know what it feels like to walk the mall without breathing hard and feeling like I'm gonna keel over! I want to ride bikes with my family. I'm going to be successful this time.