irreversible steps

Already, I'm imagining how I am going to be, a year from now, and I haven't even totally decided that that's what I want to do, take such a major, irreversible step, I haven't gone to a consultation appointment -- I haven't even made up my mind if I'm going to that appointment. But I am thinking about how, a year from now, I will fit into Guy's sweatshirts, on a rainy, miserable day like this, without feeling like a crazed sausage, be able to walk up the hill from the bus without wanting to cry, be able to get the tattoo on my shoulder that won't look ridiculous on such a fat arm, be able to --

Fill in the blank here, with your own secret wish. You can fill in the blank with your own vision of how things will be when the weight is finally gone, and for good – you know exactly what it is I'm talking about, those overwhelmingly hopeful feelings you get, when you start again, when you think that this time, you've found a solution, and it is the solution, and you are proud and happy and confident.

I am not so proud and happy and confident, and I haven't even made the decision yet, but I can't stop having the fantasy.

Yesterday, I stumbled on this website, for a type of weight loss surgery I had never heard of. Weight loss surgery, to me, sounds like giving up, and dangerous and frightening, and dumping. It sounded like life-long deprivation and scariness and risks I would never dream of taking.

This surgery, the duodenal switch, is apparently different. I will let you read about the specifics yourself, but the basic breakdown is that it seems to be the most long-term successful of all the types of surgery, with the fewest side effects. I spent all day reading about, hours and hours researching, fascinated, and intrigued, and increasingly interested and at the end of the day, when I closed the browser, I thought holy shit, I want to do this.

Holy shit, what is wrong with me?

It looks like the easy solution I have cried about wanting, the problem-solving magic technique that I have begged for, in the middle of an hours-long session of self-loathing and self-pity and misery, after a day of clothing shopping or another failed day of a diet or one of those awful, startling moments when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a photo or a shop window and realize what it is you really look like, and are reminded why it is you find it so easy to forget, and hard to remember why any one loves you, looking the way you do.

It looks like the easy solution, and so I am deeply suspicious, and fully cognizant of the drawbacks, which sound awful, the fact that it is major surgery and involves intense pain and dead-serious risk and danger and dangerous, painful recovery and money, a whole lot of money, and the fact that I want it and I wish for it with all my heart even while I remain completely, totally unsure, and a little bit ashamed – surgery versus will power and strength, it seems to me.

I am ashamed to be so lacking, to feel like I could use such drastic help. I could use such drastic help. Do I need such drastic help? I don't know.

But I made a consultation appointment - just a consultation - with a surgeon in my city who has a very good reputation, and I will go to the support meeting, and I suppose, by next week, I will know for sure.

And if you have any experience with weight loss surgery, good or bad, will let me know in the comments, please? Thanks.