Wow look at my friend Jen's illustration. Isn't she amazing? I love this, so simple, and sweet and the colors, very French and cool. Love her so much. I hope she doesn't mind that I put it up here, I just wanted to show you in case you haven't seen it over there.
Well, I went to the bariatric surgeon today, the weight loss doctor I've waited NINE MONTHS to get in to see. I'm glad I went, glad it's over, but it was scary. The soonest surgery date they could give me is in February.
I think I should have taken a pal with me. I thought I could handle this on my own, no problem, but everyone there had someone with them, husbands took wives, wives took husbands, daughters took their parents, and there was a mom with her daughter. Nice to see people having so much support. I could have had support too, but I didn't think to ask.
It was also pretty challenging to see all of these very large people and have to face that I was one of them. Oh, and I got weighed and forced myself to look at the numbers. I've been standing with my back to the scale for about five years now. Even when I was doing the whole Phen-fen diet disaster thing, I never let anyone tell me what my actual weight was, I would just weigh-in standing backwards, and then ask them how many pounds I had lost or gained.
It's also challenging to have strangers look at your body, poke around here and there, and make comments. They told me I have to lose twenty pounds before I have the surgery. Man, I really felt like a freak when I head that, but I figured out that they tell everyone that, and after that I felt a bit better about it.
I waited three hours before I saw the doctor. Two hours in a waiting room with lots of people talking about their surgeries, some good, some bad, (two women almost died, lovely), and then one hour all alone in a little tiny exam room with nothing to read and nothing to do but worry. I brought my camera because I want to document all of this, and share it with you, but I was so bored and desperate for anything to take pictures of I found myself photographing bottles of Betadyne and hydrogen peroxide.
I finally asked a nurse if they had anything to read and she brought me a year old competition skiing magazine with a heading that said something like, chick magnets, on the cover. Yeah that's cool, give the fat people extreme sports magazines. It was just so weird, I mean most of the people in that office were about four hundred pounds, I doubt if any of them have spent too much time on the slopes, or want to know where the latest "chick magnet" ski resorts are, puhlease, how about Big Beautiful People or Gourmet Fudge or Ha Ha Ha Fatty or something more apropos of the setting?
I was so desperate for contact I called people on my little flashing colored lights cell phone. Those darned lights make me so happy, they're just so colorful, pretty, and cheerful. My phone always makes me smile. Simple pleasures. Anyway I called my Mom and then I called Scott. My Mom asked me a few questions, and then started trying to guess my weight. Yeah that's supportive. God, it's so all about looks for her.
I'll tell you guys what I weigh eventually, but I just can't bear to write the number here yet, it's too painful. But let's pretend it's something outrageous like five hundred and twenty three or something. My Mother has this frightening, uncanny ability to guess your weight to within about five pounds. Scott made me laugh tonight when he said, "Maybe in one of her past lives your Mom was one of those weird circus people who can guess your exact weight." I mean when you're up in the weight range where I am, it's just so unfamiliar and bizarre that I don't know how anyone can guess at this, but she did. She said, "What do ya weigh now five hundred and twenty three?" "No Mom, not five hundred and twenty three." "Five hundred and twenty-two, twenty, fifteen, ten, what?" I hung up on her. She was just too greedy for the number, it feels too weird and personal. I swear she knows everything there is to know about me, so I keep two things secret from her, the number of cats I have, and my actual weight, a grrl's got to have some secrets.
It's four am and I have got to drag myself to bed. I made myself come in here and slog some hours away at my eBay e-mail. I was so ashamed tonight when my phone rang and it was a hearing impaired eBay seller, having to call me with this relay operator phone system, to find out why the heck I hadn't written to her about the auction I had won from her over ten days ago. I felt so bad about this, and I was so moved to be talking to her in this special way, that I started crying, I hope the operator didn't relay that.
"Hello Jacqui. I am calling about the eBay auction you won with me. It's been ten days and you haven't written and your feedback is almost perfect I just wondered if you were still going to pay for this. Go ahead"
"I'm sorry I haven't paid you for the beads and sequins yet, sniff, sniff, but I've had the flu, I'm so sorry, sniff, sniff. I promise I'll pay you. Go ahead."
Oddly this little exchange was the highlight of my day. I felt so privileged to be able to talk with her like this. I can't explain why. I guess it's because I feel this tremendous warmth towards and empathy for people who are hearing impaired. Whenever I see people signing I'm like a puppy, I just want to run up to them and ask them to let me love them. I'm the same way with lesbians, don't ask me why. God I wonder what I'd do if I met a deaf lesbian, probably lick her or something.