- HEALTH TRACKER
You’ve been in my life for the past 30 years. When you first showed up, I was embarrassed of our relationship. But by the time I was 12, you were firmly a part of me. We were different, the three of us. The two of you always stood up against me—you always got attention, even when I wanted to fade into the background.
You were there for me through all three pregnancies and subsequent births of my children, feeding them when I was too tired to even sit up. But you became overwhelming to me. With each child, you became bigger and more aggressive until you were almost larger than life. I became submissive to you and you made all of the decisions—what I could and could not wear, how and where I exercised… You always got your way.
You became stifling, overbearing. Your attachment to me became too much to bear. My husband loved you both, but he understood the heavy weight I carried upon my shoulders and agreed our relationship had to change. So with surgical precision (Thanks, doc!), I partially severed our attachment. You were hurt by that, and I understood and felt your pain, but our relationship changed for the better and became more balanced.
Oh, the fun we had then! I was so proud of you both! You seemed to defy gravity whenever we entered a room. People noticed the change in our relationship and life was good. Almost a decade later, when I decided to have WLS, I knew I could count on you to be there for me. After all, no matter what diet I tried or how much weight I’d lost in the past, you were always right there with me, quite literally through thick and thin. And for the last 10 months, we have exercised together and worn beautiful clothes and sexy lingerie and we’ve enjoyed our new lease on life.
I had been warned that WLS can cause relationships to change. But I never thought it would happen to us. And then this weekend, I woke up and you were gone. I had no warning, no fond farewell, no “thanks, it’s been fun.” Nothing. You’ve been a part of my life for so long that I feel lost without you. I don’t know how to behave, how to explain your sudden absence. It catches me off guard still. I’ll lie in bed and my gaze will fall on you, but you’re not there. There is just a flat plane of despair where you both used to be. I look for you every night and every morning, but you have forsaken me.
I’ve thought about replacing you, ironic since I tried so hard at one point in my life to get rid of you. But it wouldn’t be the same. I miss you both, more than words can say. Please come home.