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With the holidays peeking at us from around the corner, it's that time of year again. Military ball season. Homecoming dances to chaperone. Holiday parties are about to start cropping up on calendars. Ladies will need formal dresses. Ladies will need to shop for formal dresses. That phrase strikes fear into the heart of any woman that's ever had a weight problem - shop for formal dresses. It's insult to injury - you know it's coming, and there's nothing you can do about it.

First off, because this is the single most dreadful shopping trip you can imagine taking, you're going to put it off until the last possible second. So the pickings would already be slim in the best of cases. So keep that in mind as you head toward that dark corner where stores tend to keep plus sized formal wear - and plus sized formal wear is something of a misnomer - dare I say oxymoron; because all formal wear is plus sized formal wear if you listen to the designers. They use a totally different sizing scale when designing formal dresses - just ask the size 4 bride who's forced to order a size 16 wedding gown - and then it FITS perfectly! As though she's gained EIGHT dress sizes overnight! Stuff like this messes with your head. So you're already at something of a disadvantage, being made to feel fatter than you already are, even if you aren't fat at all. Then you add in an actual NEED for ACTUAL plus-sizes, and you're really screwed. Like, 'pack a bottle of bourbon in your purse, because this will NOT be pretty' screwed.

Once you come to grips with the fact that you need plus sizes, you'd think half the battle would be over. Wrong. The dress selections in most stores would make you never want to leave the house again, not to mention attend some fancy-shmancy BALL that you have to dress up for. Most stores don't even CARRY plus size formal wear. Implying a 'Can't you be FORMAL in a nice black skirt and a dressy blouse?' kind of attitude. The stores that do carry it will not make it easy on you. There are usually only one or two styles; and they are a few seasons late, fashion-wise, no color selection, or some ridiculously bright color or print that BEGS for attention - exactly what every plus sized woman wants. They are made out of clingy, bulge-enhancing, poorly-fitting fabrics, they are way too expensive for what you're getting (something you're going to wear once because you won't be able to BEAR putting it on again), or super cheap (looking). Or some combination of all of that.

Those were my "choices." Something that made me look just a LITTLE less like a battleship (if that's not too much to ask - if it is, just don't make me look any BIGGER, please and thank you), or made me look like my grandmother, or was sleeveless so it showed too much of my fat arms, or bunched up around my waist like I belt when I put on the control tops and tried to walk around. And who doesn't love the "take two steps, tug your dress down" dance? Yay. No wonder I took so much pleasure in shopping. With all of that to look forward to, who could blame ANYONE for dreading DRESS SEASON?

Nope, this year I was front row center, on the main drag through the store. Formal length, tea length, and short - something for everybody. Cute colors, designers with names I could recognize, every style under the sun. I found a few I liked, and took them back to the fitting room. I came right back because everything I had on my arm was too big. Yes, too big! I ended up with something that I LOVED, and I can promise you THAT ain't happened in a dress-shopping season or twelve. I tried on one dress, and while it wasn't exactly "Air Force Ball gown" material (a little more cocktail than dress) it fit, it was sexy, and I was ROCKING it. Just sayin'. I don't care if you can zip it up, I don't care if all the goodies are covered; there are some things a 42 year old mother of four does NOT need to be doing, and wearing this dress was one of them.

On a side note, I totally see how this surgery could be bad for some people - you switch one set of "self-destructive habits" for another. Whether it's all the new "attention" you get from gentlemen, or buying that gorgeous dress in every color because you FINALLY like how you look in something - you could end up in a serious world of hurt. Everything in moderation, folks. Moderation. Just like before - make sure what boosts your self-esteem today doesn't work to your detriment tomorrow. This is some powerful stuff we're dealing with here.

I was in there for an HOUR - I must have tried on 30 dresses. In part, because I could. Instead of HAVING to buy the ONE dress that FIT, (whether it looked half-decent or not), I had a CHOICE, because they ALL looked nice. I will admit to falling back into old habits - looking for something black, nothing short, avoiding anything that sparkled, had any kind of print, or did ANY ruching, anywhere. But I caught myself, and tried on whatever I liked. If a dress was excluded, it wasn't excluded SIMPLY because it was hot pink and silver zebra sequined.

Okay, yeah it was. But seriously. There's this moment, when you realize that it's YOU looking back at you in the mirror. That's YOU wearing a size 6 FORMAL DRESS. That's you in something short, something sleeveless, something backless, something you never pictured yourself in when you were heavy. It's scary. You know what it took to get here, and you hope like hell that it isn't a dream. You're scared to death that you won't CONTINUE to be a success, that you'll gain all the weight back. I had to take a step back, and remind myself to enjoy what I have. Everything about me has changed. This was the most amazing gift anyone has ever given me, and I am GRATEFUL beyond words for it. But I had to give MYSELF permission to take it. Permission to enjoy it. Permission to LIVE this life. A thinner, healthier life. 
 
A life with cuter clothes.

So I got a dress I loved, and came home to put it all together with the accessories I've got stashed in the closet.

Whoever invented pantyhose needs to be arrested. Seriously. What is the point? The control top Big Mama pantyhose (which I tossed) are an entity unto themselves. Why are they SHINY? They scream "HEY I'M FAT and TRYING to look SKINNY, but we all know it isn't working!" at the top of their lungs. I think I got those pantyhouse at the same time I got this pair of black pumps I've had for years. Years. More than I can count. I'm not a shoe person, unless it's running shoes; I've got five pair of those. They're all for different things, but that's another story. Right now I'm talking about this OLD pair of heels. I put on the dress, and stuck my feet into the shoes. I took one step, and my shoe fell off. I put it back on. Then I took another step and it fell off again.

My shoes were too big for my feet. I've lost 114lbs since I last wore those shoes. I sat on my bed and cried. The shoes reminded me of who I'd been before. I'd had this deeply moving experience while picking out a dress that did fit, but been reduced to tears by a pair of shoes that didn't. The fact that the shoes were too big didn't really matter. They didn't fit. How many times have I cried over things that didn't fit? More than I can count. And then I remembered; I gave myself PERMISSION to live THIS life - here, in the present.

I'm getting new shoes tomorrow.

We have reached our new base, moved into our new house, met our new neighbors, acclimated into our new environment (which is STUNNINGLY beautiful!) and now... the moment we've all been waiting for. I actually have to branch out and meet new people.

As a THIN person.

My husband is a First Sergeant in the USAF. He meets EVERYBODY in his squadron. He meets their wives, their children. He meets other First Sergeants, and their wives, and children. He meets his Commander, and other Commanders, and their wives, and children. And I meet them too. For the first time, I'm meeting our Commander as a thin person. I was called "athletic" last week - ATHLETIC! Me! The last time I met our Commander's wife, we met at the grand opening of the new base exchange - a HUGE affair. We bumped into the Burger King "King" and had our picture taken. I came home, looked at those pictures, and wept.

At 250lbs, I shouldn't have been meeting anyone, anywhere. But i HAD to meet people - I'm the First Sergeant's wife. And NOT for the first time, but for the WORST time, I saw what THEY saw when they met me. It was a nightmare to see those pictures. Jeans you could drive a TRUCK through, shapeless top. I was MORTIFIED. Not entirely coincidentally, it was not too long after that that I started my WLS voyage. That was almost two years ago. I've met new people since then, I've seen people I've known throughout my journey. But this is different.

Tonight I get to start a new chapter. I get to meet new people - as a thin person. No worrying about how I will look in WHATEVER I choose to wear. No worrying about being the biggest person in the room. No worrying about what people will think if I eat while I'm there at the meeting. No worrying that people will say, "Wow, he's such a nice Shirt, but his wife is so FAT..." My husbad would be proud of me no matter what happened, what I weighed or how I looked. But this me HAS to be much easier to be proud of.

Tonight, it is GAME ON. 114lbs thinner.

... Is realizing this isn't like having a baby. That's ALL for THEM. The baby. You endure ALL THAT; and even if it's an easy pregnancy and delivery, it's still not easy. But at the end of the voyage you can say, I did this ALL for YOU, precious. Most of us are VERY good at giving when others are involved. Especially if the person you're giving to is a sweet little helpless person that looks like the love of your life. I would joyfully give my life to bring a child into the world.

You start the RNY journey by yourself and end it by yourself. That means the only sweet little face you'll see at the end of a 3mi run is yours. The only face you're going to see when you walk away from the table full of cheesecake at a party is yours. The person you're sweating, and hurting, and NOT making ANY excuses for is YOU. Not making any excuses, and not TAKING any. I said, "Oh I could run further / faster if I was 20 / 30/ 40 pounds lighter!" Well, that's a reality now. "I'd run if my knee didn't hurt!" My knee no longer hurts. "I'd run if I had cuter clothes to wear!" Okay, that was just a ridiculous statement. But it proved that ANY excuse was better than none. I don't have any more excuses. I didn't do this for NOTHING. Didn't risk my life to have the surgery. I didn't leave the kids and my husband for a week while I was BACK in the hospital with... No one has any idea what I had. I didn't put up with those finger sticks ("I DON'T HAVE DIABETES!"), blown IVs, thrombuses that lasted 7wks (SEVEN WEEKS?! REALLY? I mean, come on people.) pressure pants and blood pressure cuffs that refused to inflate in synch, and hourly awakenings  - for no reason. I am longer content with just "being here." I want to be here, healthy, thinner, with normal blood pressure, with energy, and with an attitude that doesn't leave me hostage to ANYTHING - like my appearance, or FOOD.

That's what makes it so hard. I haven't done anything for ME in YEARS.  Trust me, I weighed 250lbs (270 at my highest) - I hadn't done anything for me in a while. I can do for my children all day, but carving out 35mins to work out took an act of Congress. The hardest part is the fact that I'm doing it for ME - not THEM. 35mins that don't involve juice boxes, cookies, crayons, glue sticks, construction paper or getting toys that fell under the couch. 35mins spent improving myself - weights, running shoes, THOSE socks, toenails that fall off at will, better endurance, normal blood pressure, and thinner thighs. Among other things.

The sweet little face grinning back at you as the numbers on the scale, and the clothing sizes, and your body get smaller and smaller will be YOURS. It's not for them. It's for you. Take it.