Who the hell am I?

Saw the doc this morning. I told her that I have gotten the ball rolling for surgery. She felt that plan was "wise" - of course she did, it was her idea! Heh! She cracks me up.

Tomorrow night is the seminar on the surgery. I have a metric ton of questions. I'm sure they'll cover most of them, it's not like I'm the first fatty to get this surgery. They likely have a near assembly line.

Two nights ago I was driving & thinking and something occurred to me. Something startling. I've been thinking that this will be relatively cut & dried; I've been trying to lose the weight for a decade, getting the weight off is the goal, once the weight is gone, the problem is solved. Right?

The thought that occurred to me last night shook my certainty. In fact, it has lowered my confidence and at the same time hardened my resolve to got through with this surgery. The thought was this:

I've always been "The Fat Kid" or "The Fat Guy" - who will I be when I am no longer fat?

On the surface, the question seems silly. But, honestly, it struck deep. The more I thought about it, the more layers the onion revealed. It was a pretty big and stinky onion, too.

The first layer was simple: My short label is "Fat Guy." As in "That Fat Guy over there." or "Which guy? The Fat Guy?" But, if I'm not fat, then what will my simple label be? Sure, most of us hate labels, but, let's face it, we all use them. "The Blonde Chick." "The Black Dude." "The One with The Nose." When I go to the Sex Positive Pool Parties, where just about everyone is over weight and naked, quick labels are useful. "The Tall, Balding, Fat Guy with a Beard & Glasses" describes about four regulars at the parties, we're all pretty chummy, too. Hmmm ... maybe that's a bad example. But you get the idea. What will people pull out about me? I doubt I'll ever be "The Skinny Guy." For a while I'm sure I'll be "The Dude with the Waddle" as the weight loss surgery will leave me with a lot of loose skin. But, really, what will people pick out that will mark me out from the crowd?

This layer gets thicker. This has a lot to do with identity. A lot of who I am is wrapped up in being fat. As a kid, I was picked last for teams and stunk at sports because I was fat. I didn't date much in high school or college because I was fat. I dress a certain way because I'm fat. There are lots of things I do, some I'm not willing to admit to, and I do them because I'm fat.

The next layer, the next thing that occurred to me, really kicked me in the soft stuff. This surgery has a 90+% success rate. 9 out of 10 people lose a large amount of weight after this procedure. I am really likely to lose the weight, at least for a while. If I put my back behind it, I'll have a good chance of keeping it off. This surgery will most likely work and work well.

Honestly, this is the first time I have really had to worry about my identity. I always knew I'd fail before. And, to prove myself right, I did just that. Okay, maybe that's not entirely true. Maybe a little harsh. But I'm sure in my heart of hearts, losing 300 pounds has always been daunting to the point of being overwhelming. Now? A day of surgery and observation, three weeks of recovery at home and bam! The weight is melting off simply because I'm burning more than I'm in-taking. It will be nearly impossible to keep up the 3000 to 4000 calories needed to upkeep my current weight. Add a little exercise and it becomes just that much more drastic.

I'm the Fat Guy, but only if I stay fat and this time the plan might just work, it only has a 90% chance of success, after all. When the weight comes off, who the hell will I be? I realized while this was buzzing around my head that it wasn't just about a quick label, or even surface identity, this was about the core of my being. Every summer, as far back as I can remember, even when I tried to tell myself I was comfortable with my body, I would think "By Fall, I will have taken some weight off." and I have failed like 25 or 30 times. For the last ten years, every few weeks I would start dieting, only to fall back off the diet and stop exercising only to restart a few weeks later. This blog chronicles five years of that!

Now here I am. I can still hear the voice in my head saying "SOMEONE has to make up the 5 to 10% of failures, ya know." I don't want to fail this time. It's going to be a lot of pain & trouble and bullshit just to have the surgery and survive the process. I want to be in the 80th or better percentile - I always tested well.

I don't know who will be living in my body at the end of this process, but I want to meet him. Waddle & all.