Hahahahahaha. Oh man, the fact that I see the humor in this and am not at all upset by your little diatribe is actually irrefutable proof that I'm WAY better off emotionally than I was two years ago. Three years ago, *while I was actively undergoing eating disorder therapy* (ahem... more on that in a second), your little rant would have sent me off to an emotional-eating frenzy just to prove to you that it is NOBODY's fucking business what *I* do with *my* body. Guess what? It still is NONE of your business what I do with my body, but this time I'm going to tell you that and go eat my canteloupe and yoghurt. Larra is 100% spot on - your little post to me is saying way more about YOUR baggage than anything else.
For what it is worth, I am SORRY you feel you had WLS before you were ready and didn't work on yourself adequately. The fact that you think that is the case with me, though, is nothing but projection. Here's why:
First off, I am HAPPY. Ridiculously happy, in fact. I not only have a GOOD marriage, I have a great marriage - and to top it all off, I'm a newlywed. I'm a hugely positive person - my friends call me bubbly, annoyingly so. I'm an enormous optimist. Sure, we have debt, but it's manageable - and will be even more so when I get a job (keep your fingers crossed ladies, I just applied for something I'm eminently qualified for and I bet I get an interview... I usually do). The only unhappiness in my life is my health. Unresolved trauma? Not quite. Remember how I said "more on that in a second?" Here's your "more."
Let me tell you a little bit about my journey to WLS. You've made huge assumptions about who I am - so now, I'm going to tell you why you're wrong, and since you judged me you're going to be a better person and read all of this. This is what happens when you get judgmental with a writer. You get a nice long life story to read. Hopefully the other board members won't mind. Buckle up.
I have an eating disorder. Binge eating disorder, specifically. My grandmother, who raised me, had an eating disorder of her own and starved me and fed me over and over again in an endless dieting cycle all through my childhood. 700 calories at age 7. That's the short version.
When I was around 21 (I'm 35 now, by the way), I sought eating disorder therapy for the first time. I had a terrific therapist who was able to stop the active binging. I no longer ate until I made myself physically ill. I no longer ate everything that looked appealing in the house, all at once, out of fear it would be taken from me if I didn't eat it right then. But at this point I was already ~375 pounds and my body just would not let go of any weight even after I stopped binging. I tried dieting on my own for six months after that counselor moved away, but failed miserably and ended up at about 425 pounds. Quite honestly, I wasn't ready. My eating disorder was better managed in that I wasn't actively binging until I felt sick anymore, but being told I couldn't have certain foods I wanted to eat (even by me!) still triggered me to want to eat them 100% more. I ended up moving and attending one of the top 20 colleges in the US, where I ate really well and quite a lot, heh. I lost a little here and there due to walking around campus, but mostly maintained my weight. Then I studied abroad for a semester in Spain, and lost 75 pounds from all the walking I did. And, of course, promptly regained it when I moved back to the US in about six months and moved back home (do we see a pattern here)? I still wasn't ready.
I graduated from college and moved back home. I ate pretty much whatever I wanted and gained and gained and gained over a period of several years. I was about 525 pounds and still gaining. Finally, after being hospitalized four times due to an ulcer on my leg (a condition actually unrelated to my weight.. really rare autoimmune condition), and seeing how I was treated in the hospital, and faced with my own mortality... it clicked. I needed to lose. I was ready. Even though my weight wasn't what was hospitalizing me, it certainly wasn't helping. I had to do something about it. Even at this point, I was NOT considering WLS. I had been rabidly anti-WLS for literally years (ever since I found the Fat Acceptance community around age 21 and had read all the horror stories posted by people there who had had WLS and failed and gained all the weight back, or people posting about friends who had had WLS and died from complications). Of course, what I didn't know is how one-sided the information I was getting truly was... but anyhow, I hated the idea of WLS. Why would I permanently reroute MY body when I still believed I was capable, if I tried REALLY hard, like, SERIOUSLY TRIED, of losing weight on my own? So I tried to diet on my own again... and was once again facing my eating disorder in black and white: every time I tried to say "No whole pizza for dinner" to myself, that's all I'd want, and I'd eat pizza until I was full. Even though I'd stop well before I made myself physically ill, as I recognized and listened to my "I'm full" signal, years of overeating meant that I could eat a WHOLE helluva lot before I felt full.
So I made one of the best choices I've ever made, and looked for another therapist. This time I sought out a therapist who specialized in "alternative lifestyles." Frankly, I wanted a therapist who could understand that I was super fat AND had a ton of self confidence AND loved my body AND thought I was sexy (I do!) AND was dating men who thought I was the sexiest thing ever, but that I wanted to be healthier, and I did NOT want WLS. Under any circumstances.
Luckily for me, I found her. She really got it. And she and I worked together on my eating disorder for about two years. About halfway through, when she thought I was ready, I also began seeing a nutritionist who specializes in eating disorders. I had a problem though. I was finding that of these three qualities: easy to prepare, cheap, and healthy, I could only ever find food that fit two of those three criteria. "Easy to prepare" wasn't out of laziness - at almost 600 pounds I couldn't comfortably stand long enough to actually cook for myself beyond throwing something in a microwave. And my monthly food budget was only $100/month, which leaves hardly any room for fresh fruit or veggies. So I ended up on a diet that was mostly comprised of smoothies for breakfast (frozen berries are cheap + milk + store-brand granola + chia seeds on the rare occasions I could afford them), Lean Cuisines for lunch (oh, the rewards points I had with them), slim fast shakes for breakfast or lunch when I didn't have time to make a smoothie or was out of Lean Cuisines, almonds and string cheese for snacks, and lean cuisine for dinner when I was really tired, or some sort of easy chicken breast + frozen veggies dish for dinner when I wasn't. I did well on this for several months, but then I got down to 502 and saw 499 in my future and I just freaked out. I suddenly couldn't handle this diet anymore, I was sick of it all, whatever. I freaked out. But unlike previous times in my life where I had given up on diets, I DIDN'T THROW THE BABY OUT WITH THE BATHWATER. I kept right on seeing my therapist and nutritionist. They helped me deal with my feelings and brainstorm as best they could ways for me to eat as healthily as possible. I started doing better and better - I had several breakthrough sessions with my therapist and I stopped feeling that eating healthily was depriving myself. I just really needed a better food budget. I started looking for jobs that would pay me more, and looking to move to the other side of the country, away from toxic grandmother. I thought San Diego sounded wonderful.
Then, out of nowhere, a man came back into my life. A man I had loved for years, who I had quite a history with, but who had ended up moving to Australia right as we were getting super serious (he had applied for a job transfer right before we started dating and thought he hadn't gotten it. A year later, he found out he had). He said that about six months after he moved to Australia, he realized leaving me behind was the biggest mistake of his life. He was still in love with me, but he had to wait two years from moving there in order to be a permanent resident so that he'd qualify to sponsor me for a visa and I could immigrate to the country. He asked me to marry him. Obviously this was earth-shattering to me, so I asked for a few days to think it over (lol). I talked with my therapist (really in-depth), my family and friends, and the consensus was: do it. So I did.
Here's the thing, though - Australia doesn't let you immigrate unless you pass a health exam. They're concerned about your cost to the system, so in regards to mental health are concerned primarily with any potential for psychiatric hospitalizations. (I've never thankfully needed anything like that). We were REALLY REALLY worried about passing the medical exam, as you can imagine. My therapist had to write a letter. Here's a little excerpt copied and pasted for you with my (former) last name redacted - no one can tell you better than she can what the state of my eating disorder therapy was at that point:
There you go. A statement from a health professional to a governmental entity.
So I made the move here, started eating low-GI with hubby (who is insulin resistant), became a lot more active because you really have to walk to get anywhere in the city here, got married, and started losing weight left and right for a few months. I actually didn't even know I was (though hubby insisted he could see it) because I literally didn't unpack my scale for several months. I had been too heavy for it in the US. When I finally unpacked it, I realized I had lost 75 pounds. But then the weight stabilized, and that was it... it wouldn't go any further for several months. I was hospitalized on our wedding night, though, which was devastating, and the specialist here confirmed that while my autoimmune disorder won't go away with weight loss, the ulcers it causes on my legs will heal more quickly. That was all I needed to know. But I was already doing all the "right" things and not losing. I know my body - from having spent virtually my whole life dieting, I know that it will just plateau, over and over again. To do the same thing over and over again and expect different results is madness, as the old adage goes. I want kids. I want a life that involves sailing and scuba diving and walking around the city without having to stop at a bench every block or two. So it's clearly time for weight loss via a different route than dieting - and my decision was that that meant WLS. Only, it needed to be a WLS that wouldn't make me feel deprived - so I threw myself into research and discovered the DS. As I've said, I don't count calories but can count carbs and protein just fine, and I'm doing great eating the way I'll need to eat post-DS.
So... believe me when I say I am BEYOND ready. It is time. I am mentally in a very different place than I was before, and I am READY.
I'm sorry you weren't ready and you didn't do the work first. That doesn't mean someone else isn't ready, or hasn't done the work. I have fucking worked my butt off to resolve old issues. I realize this was a very long read, but I hope the next time you jump to judgment on someone and try to project your own issues onto them, you stop and think - you NEVER know who someone is or what their story is until they actually tell you. Stop making ASSumptions. They only make you an ass.