"Oh my, there's a husky one."    

I grew up hearing these words. I knew that "husky" meant chubby. I remember the heat of shame and embarassment that would rise up from my chest, to my flaming red ear lobes and across my face. I memorized the pattern and tried to intervene by trying not to be afraid of those words. I became lost in what was worse~ the blushing response or the fact that I was, in fact, "husky."
I can honestly say that my weight has been a source of worry my whole life . . . 

I recall one short-lived triumph in September of my sixth grade year. My teachers welcomed me back to school that fall with accolades of my "having lost weight." They cheered that I "had become a lovely young lady by growing  taller and slender"  that summer. 

"Whoa, they like me so much more this way,"  my heart concluded at the ripe old age of eleven. I promised myself that I would never become "husky " ever again. . . (yea right.)

My first three boyfriends told me that I had a "nice" face, but that I was getting chubby. Why couldn't I just choose salad instead of ice cream? I hated my lack of self-control and comforted my grief with better ice cream (licorice at Bridgemans).

I did it all, just like most of us here on OH. I did Weight Watchers, went to and taught aerobics, memorized calories, went to "Spa Petite" (only those of us over 40 will remember that one). . . I have lost the same 30-40 pounds several times now. I know all the rules about weight loss and more. I did the 3-Day walk with ease, I bought an elliptical machine for home. I've done Curves. You name it- I've tried it. My cupboards are lined with low fat, low carb, go raw/cold foods, count your points, diet for idiots, hoodia nuggets, slim teas; It's all there.  (Did I mention the green tea chewing gum?)

I thought I was huge in college when I weighed 160. (I am 5 5") When I was pregnant and reached 200 pounds with gestational diabetes. I've spent most of my life trying to find a way to stay at a moderate 140-150 pounds. . . I have never succeeded in maintaining that okay place. My  "eating disorder" (I''ve named it the up and down, always on my mind syndrome) was never really significant enough to be noticed or treated. I couldn't purge and couldn't stand starving myself. . . I stayed within the "doesn't need help" zone. (I did, however, do therapy to deal with that shame under the blushing face I mentioned earlier.)

After Christmas, when my sister told me she was going to have RNY, I became obsessed with the OH boards, which she led me to right away. I knew in my gut that this was about me as well as Lisa. . . Then, our other sister announced that she was going to be banded. She explained her decision-making process with us and I was intrigued. I wanted this tool, but didn't think my BMI was high enough. I felt like I'd missed the boat to my dreams, by only minutes.

When Debbie returned from Mexicali with her lapband, Lisa and I drove up north to spend some time with her. She was doing great and was filled with hope. I asked both of them: "So. . . In your gut, do you think I will end up having WLS one day like the two of you?"  Lisa said, "Yes, someday, I think you will "  followed by Deb asking me how tall I was. . .
It was at that exact moment that I recalled that I was shorter than Debbie! I jumped up, measured myself and ran to the BMI calculator. I qualified, indeed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I screamed, "OMG. My BMI is over 30. I don't have to gain weight to qualify for this tool. I do now!"

Since that moment, my life has lifted. I am excited about doing things that I have checked off my list. I want to water ski, snow ski, go to water parks and more. Mostly, I want to eat carefully again without the nagging feeling that "this weight loss is most certainly temporary."  My husband met this news with much reservation (understandably) but has become educated to the idea of prevention rather than cure. He sees the genetic componet and angst around weight in my whole family. Now he is 100% (okay 95%) on board. I pull him over to the screen every night and show him how LIBERATING WLS can be for those that use it and work it.

My biggest struggle so far is ironically being at the low end. . .  Those gremlins inside my head weren't very supportive of this choice. "Why would you make this drastic decision when you're only XX pounds overweight? Can't you suck it up and do this by yourself? Think of the gossip around you. . . You are being vain, lazy, indulgent, wimpy, and wasteful. You could be feeding starving children with this money rather than spending thousands of dollars you don't really have- just to be spolied rotten with this drastic tool, which wasn't meant for you anyway. Baby. You're going to fail anyway. Once you have the band, you are going to be miserable AND still fat."   Nanananabooboo!

But the still small voice whispers, "You deserve to be free."     Surgery date: March 8.