Sharshar_
It's All In God's Hands Now...
Sep 21, 2014
No one except my mother, brother and doctor knows I'm going through this process...
I don't tell anyone basically out of fear.... Fear that if I blab too much about it, I'll jinx it and nothing will go through-- because that's basically how it goes so far in my life-- I ask/wish for something but it rarely comes true... Whether it's from becoming too confident and planning things too fast or whatever, God usually gives me a "nope." though I hope that if this surgery request gets me a "nope", it will be more of a "not yet"...
I remember first noticing I was overweight at around age eight-- Latino family members don't really let you get away with much-- especially not my family members... I distinctly remember sitting near the blood pressure machine in the pharmacy at our local CVS once when a super obese woman walked into the store out of breath, limping with a cane, looking absolutely miserable. "You'll be just like her if you don't get it together" whispered my aunt Judy into my ear. My eyes just widened with fear. I had no words.
Another memory must have been around the same time when I was at a beauty salon and my mother was getting waxed. The busty, rail-thin Cuban hairdresser was blow drying my long, brown hair when she stopped, put her tools down, spun my chair around to face the mirror and right at her. She stuck her long, blood-red, acrylic nail in the air and said, "you have to promise me that when you come back to get your hair done, you'll have dropped at least twenty pounds." Once again, I was so shocked, I had no words. Since I was always taught to respect my elders, I just nodded and kept my head down-- both of these memories occurred before I was even ten years old.
Perhaps the worst memory is not even from childhood-- it's from five years ago, the last time I saw my grandmother (by choice). It was late at night, I got up to get a glass of water and actually heard my grandmother in my perfect cousin Natalie's bedroom cackling with her about my weight... Not just my weight but my "beard" as she called it when she was referring to a little bit of stubble on my chin from the hirsutism from PCOS. I have not visited my family or seen them since. It's too embarrassing. I refuse.
Last Thursday, I finished day my six-month medically supervised weightloss program. It is midnight, so technically Monday now, so I will call my surgeon's office tomorrow to see if they have sent all the documents to my insurance. I'm so nervous as I've heard many people get rejected after so much money being spent on all these pre-op tests and doctor's visits, etc. I have done all that my insurance and my surgeon's office asked of me and now all I can do is pray and be patient. To be honest, I'm sick of depression, anxiety, self-consciousness, the critics, hirsutism, pills.... I want my small dose of normal. No-- I want my dose of healthy.
I don't think very many people will run into this blog any time soon but if so, leave me a comment or something with your experience with childhood obesity or obesity in general. I'd love to hear about your approval processes as well...
until next time :)
Sharlene
