many long and sleepless nights

On March 17th, 2005, I had a surgery to tighten my upper arms, and a breast reduction. It was just after a year from my gastric bypass.

It was a whole lot of changes.

I haven’t been writing much about it. Before I brought my blog out here, I’d started this whole blogging adventure on MySpace, and it was there that I was really trying to tell my story. Since I’ve been at this site, I’ve focused primarily on the present.

But there certainly is a story, and I need to capture it before it blends in with the din that is my entire past. I am already forgetting all the shocks and transitions and adjustments I’ve made over the last 3 1/2 years. I sometimes forget all that. And I should remember it; I should sometimes leverage the fact of this path so that maybe I’ll go a little easier on myself.

What I don’t forget is who I always was. I’ve adjusted so well, and I don’t forget who I am; I carry with me a confidence that I only found through losing this weight (and the cosmetic surgery). (Some of the weight has come back. Most of the gained confidence remains, and is mine forever.)

But who I was, who I grew up as, the child/teenager/young adult/adult that I spent most of my life as… that is never out of reach. Always on the tip of my tongue.

Me in a comment on Danny Miller’s blog, just today (I’m referring to being a 6th grader):

I was a fat girl who mostly avoided the kissing parties… because I was a smart, hip fat girl, and I didn’t want to suffer the humiliation that came either with being ‘passed on’ or being stuck with someone who was grossed out by being stuck with me.
Okay, I was a painfully self-hating fat girl.
Nonetheless, I managed to work my first kiss in at a party in 6th grade.

Yes, always right there.

But it has been a roller coaster. Here’s kind of how it went:

1/04 Gastric bypass (I spend the first four months sick/constipated/unable to eat more than like two bites without throwing up and with unexplainable by anyone back pain.)
5/04 I’m better! Finally feeling alive. And still losing weight every day. I can’t keep up with a wardrobe. I’m trying to wear the hand-me-downs that people have given me, but I also start shopping, because I want to look better than outdated second-hands.
7/04 I’ve lost well over a hundred pounds. Every day is elating and confusing. I go to Starwood and fall in love with like eight men. I sleep with two of them.
8/04 I get a promotion at work.
1/05 I take a lover.

Let’s stop here. This was a big deal. This is someone I don’t know well, but who knows my recent history. And I feel so vulnerable with him…

This is the first time in my life I look better in clothes than out of them. I had always been comfortable with my body, but now, while I made a great impression, things were sloppy upon closer examination. The fat in my arms had just… fallen out, (I could not wear any but the very longest of short sleeves) and my breasts had deflated. My stomach, when tucked into jeans, looked okay, but naked… I just looked disproportionate and distorted and kind of… ravaged.

This guy was very intense and saw that I was going through a lot, although he never really got it. And during the time I was seeing him, I was planning this next surgery.

And this surgery was a lot to face. I’d always wanted a breast reduction, but as it was soon becoming a reality, I was freaking out.

These were my breasts. And I was going to be allowing them to be cut and I didn’t really know what I was getting on the other side, and I was risking nipple sensation…

… this all accelerated the end of that little affair. He helped to open me up, but the last time I was with him prior to my surgery, he kissed each of my breasts goodbye. And it was meant to be sweet and playful, but I shut down. This was way too personal, at such a primal level as a woman (and simply as me) and it just felt invasive. And then he got pissy with me for shutting down.

Like I said, it only accelerated the end of something that was not going to last.

(And of course, if that was too intimate, then that’s an indication I shouldn’t have been his lover.)

The surgery was a breeze on almost all counts.

There were issues with a migraine and nausea and my recovery (just that first evening) was very rough.

But in so many ways, this was the beginning of my being able to really ‘come out’. Debutante. Once I was back to full-ish strength, I looked and felt amazing.

Amazing.

I didn’t realize how much smaller this would instantly make me appear. I hadn’t even considered that the loss of this excess would show in that way. Part by part yes, but overall impression? I had no idea.

And suddenly clothes were fitting, bras were fitting, short sleeve shirts were an option (nothing sleeveless yet, because of the scars). And I felt… adorable. Really cute. Little and cute. For the first time ever.

It was around the same time I started hanging out in bars, drinking a lot, and bringing home men. It only lasted a few months, and there really were only a few men, (turns out I am a quick study), but this was my time to try one of everything.

Again, weight has certainly been gained back, but the overall look is still one I’m happy with. This past halloween:

(The tattoo on my right breast was artfully preserved by my surgeon. It is different now, and will someday need to be reworked, but the doctor was respectful and attentive to it.)

So, March 17th, 2007. Two years. Same joke now for the third year in a row…

Erin go braless.

(Still funny!)