bigredlt
My story. Where to start? I will try to keep this brief. My mother was 14 when she got pregnant with my brother. It was her, my brother, my grandmother and grandfather (who had polio), an uncle (polio), and two aunts living in one house, with only my grandmother working in a shirt factory. When my mom got pregnant with me at 16, my grandfather told her to give me up for adoption or have an abortion (couldn't afford to feed another mouth). She gave me to her mother's sister (my great aunt). ** SIDE NOTE: My grandmother, her sister and my mother were all BIG women until a serious health condition made them lose weight**. Anyway, I was raised in a happy home, didn't want for anything. My adoptive parents were raised during the depression. As a result, I had to "COMPLETELY FINISH EVERYTHING ON MY PLATE" before I was allowed to do anything else, otherwise, it was wasting, and besides, there were starving kids in Africa. This is where I learned to eat past full. I was sexually molested from the time I was 6 until I was 13 by a family relative. Not only did I eat past full at every single meal, but I also ate to hide. I had the traditional victim way of thinking that if I didn't look so cute, he wouldn't have touched me, etc. I was overweight all through school. Once I got to high school, I started experimenting with drugs. I dropped a lot of weight as a result. My lowest adult weight was 132lbs. I was so happy to be that small, for once in my life, but I looked seriously ill. The term crack-whore comes to mind. Stopped using drugs, and some of the weight came back. I lived by myself at that time, so I wasn't exactly eating right, or eating more than once a day for that matter. I met my daughter's father in 1991. Moved in with him, and got pregnant. I had my daughter March 1992. I gained 60 lbs during my pregnancy because I had no clue how to eat properly. She was only 6lbs when born. I might have lost 15lbs when she was born. When she was 9 months old, we moved from Houston, Texas to Erie, PA. I had no friends, no family, no job (yet), etc. and I missed my home. I cooked all kinds of good greasy fattening foods that reminded me of home, and ate them, and ate, and ate... always remembering to clear my plate. I ballooned up to 289lbs. I followed the richard simmons deal a meal program and lost down to 220. Felt pretty good about myself, so I decided to take a break from the discipline and strictness I had followed for a year. I was celebrating! Boy, did I ever. I regained about 30lbs. Ended up going back on a semi-modified (I changed a few things) diet again, and lost down to 220 again. I had breast cancer and uterine cancer. I lost 22lbs after my hysterectomy at 33 years old. ONEDERLAND (barely). Gained it all back slowly... and now I'm at 280lbs again. I never truly went back on deal a meal, my heart wasn't in it. I was half expecting a "terminal" diagnosis every time I had a check up, so why deprive myself of all the good food if I'm just going to kick the bucket anyway? (**Disclaimer: I know that none of this way of thinking is correct, but that is what I was thinking at the time). My grandmother losing 150lbs because she had diabetes didn't phase me. My great aunt losing 120lbs because of her diabetes didnt phase me. My biological mother losing 95lbs because she had two bad heart valves didn't phase me. My biological father dying from congestive heart failure and complicated by him being 140lbs overweight didn't phase me. But it did get me to thinking. I'm only 42. I want to live to be old enough to sling jello at the nurses in the nursing home with the best of them. I shouldn't wait until I have a major health crisis to do something about my health. So I started looking at VSG. What made my decision for me was seeing myself in a picture that someone took. I am hideous. I have to do something so that people aren't embarrassed to know me. I have to do something so I can watch my daughter grow into at least a middle-aged woman. I want to go play bingo with her when she gets gray hair. So... that's my story. I am currently pre-op, and scared to death!
UPDATE: Surgery went smooth... I love my sleeve! I had nothing to be scared about. I love the sleeved life, and I love the ever-changing new me!!!!
