Ever since college, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my body. As long as I can remember, I would try to visualize myself with a different shaped nose or face. With different color hair or length. With brighter and whiter teeth. With a flatter tummy and bigger boobs. I can’t tell you how many times that I’ve been in a department store and saw that really cute bikini, but never dared to even try it on for fear that the store associate tending the dressing rooms would laugh at me.
Looking back now, I know it’s always been a self confidence thing for me and is probably why I’m so reserved with people. It’s probably why I hate getting my picture taken and why I’m rarely seen in public with a bathing suit on.
I admit it, I use food as my therapy. Food makes me feel better. It feels good to just indulge in that grilled sourdough jack with extra cheese and bacon. It’s heaven to have that large chocolate shake with extra sprinkles at Chili’s. I’m in utopia when I eat those cheese sticks with ranch dressing while at Sonic. Yep, food makes me feel good, but in most cases, food will not make me look good…eventually. This is what took me 5 years of battling weight to finally learn about myself. After my major weight loss, giving birth to 3 kiddos and loosing another 45 pounds after that, I’ve got the war wounds to constantly remind me of what I self inflicted onto myself.
I finally took matters into my own hands and have sought out medical intervention once again. Armed with my “never going back” motto, I finally mustered up enough courage to see a plastic surgeon and seek advice of whether or not my body can be saved and repaired.
On a cold and rainy January day, I finally met with her. I finally got the answers that I was looking for.
I think the doctor interviewed me longer than I interviewed her. The questions she asked weren’t just your standard medical questions. These were genuine getting to me and why I was there in the first place type questions. She took the time to listen to me explain how I got to where I was today and why this was something I wanted to do. Then after the last words came out of my mouth, there was complete silence. “Great”, I’m thinking to myself. “She thinks I’m a neurotic nutcase and wants me out of her office.” Then it happened. This beautiful Barbie faced person with the big beautiful blue eyes smiles at me and said, “Judy, what you’re seeking is the completion of a long journey.” WOW! She figures out what I’m about in 1 hour that my shrink hasn’t been able to figure out for 5 years!
“YES!” “That’s totally it. I want this reminder of the past to go away so I can look at myself with more respect, appreciation, motivation and confidence.”
Dr. Stiles (the Miracle Making Surgeon), just grins ear to ear. “I’m really glad to hear you say that. Too often I hear patients wanting cosmetic surgery for all the wrong reason’s. Patients with your attitude and beliefs are few and far between. I know that I can help you complete this journey.” Me: “Really, seriously, you mean I’m not seeking out miracles here? You really can help me?”
The MMS (Miracle Making Surgeon) walks me through what all is involved. She goes into great detail of the good, the bad, and the gruesomeness. Things like the surgery itself will take anywhere from 6 to 8 hours. Things like, you’ll remain in the hospital 1, possibly 2 days depending on my recovery…you’ll be on pain pumps and drainage tubes for about a week. You’ll be walking like a granny, bent over at the waist for at least 2 weeks and after all that, you’ll get to look forward to wearing support girdles and bras for about a month.
MMS: “So after hearing all that and what is involved, are you still sure that you’re ready for this?”
Me: “Um, Um, Um”
MMS: “Let me show you some of my work. I’m only going to show you pictures of those folks that had the same things that you want done and folks with the same body type so you can get a better idea of what you would look like.”
Now at this point, I’m getting a little uncomfortable. There was a very good reason WHY I did not sign the paperwork authorizing pictures of myself (you know, the before and after pics.) I was in mid sentence, “oh I really don’t think….”
Lights shut off and on with the slide show we go! 20 minutes of looking at tummies and ta-ta’s….after a while, it was like shopping for a new car. “Ooh, I like what you did here.” “That’s what I want to look like.” “That’s amazing, you really were able to do that?”
Now I’m sold. However, as with everything, I’ve hit a snag. Now I’m feeling tremendous guilt. Guilt that I’m being incredibly vain, guilt of spending so much money when others are in some much need. Guilt of feeling selfish for even thinking that I deserve such extravagance. Guilt that the money that is spent on this could go toward fixing up the house to sell. I go back and forth with this. So much so, that I think I’m managed to make the MMS office staff dread seeing my phone number pop up on their caller ID since I’ve called them no less that 3 times today asking stupid questions and 2 more additional times with the scheduling coordinator asking about surgery dates.
With the guilt, I’m also feeling the fear. The last thing I need in my life is to be featured on 20/20 or Dateline as the poster child for plastic surgery gone wrong. My luck is usually not good. I’ve gotten lucky 4 times in my life, all of which include Darren and my 3 amazing tater tots!
I’m still not sure how this will end up. I figure all of the stars will have to align right for this to happen. I will also need to get over my guilt and fear about this as well. That in itself could take the rest of my natural life to do. All I know is that I have gotten a peek of what the end of my journey looks like and although I love what I saw, I’m still not sure that I’m brave enough for this.
So I will go on with life, checking every once in a while to see if the stars are aligned right and continue to wish on those stars and keep my fingers crossed and pray that I’ll be given “the sign” that it’s ok to do this. Father time is on my side, but I’m not so sure Mother Nature is.
