Physican Examine Thyself

Ive been thinking a lot about my
decision Tuesday to begin ...well maybe anyway...therapy.
It makes me think way back ( old feeble decaying mind reaches into dusty archives) to when I was 17 and about to go off to college. My weight was a problem...when has it not been.
So my mom and I went hopefully off to the Decatur Hospital which had what I
kindly referred to as The Fat Factory.


This lovely facility is where they break you down mentally to the limp noodle you would much rather be putting in your mouth than becoming..and build you back up into a healthy machine of drinking your 1000 calories a day, (YES thank you I just LOVE powdered ChIKin SooP)

We met with a strange man..god I wish I could remember his name! I do remember he was French and a total ( pardon MY French..) ASSHOLE!
He came in the office where we ..dear mummy and me... sat nervously on the edge of our chairs, waiting for this man, this miracle of the medical community, to present us with the solution that had eluded me for so long all my lumpy life.

Gastric Bypass.

The procedure in 1988 was still relatively new and a BIG FAT DEAL, so you can imagine what shape I was in for my mother to want me to risk my life for this surgery.

Not that its not a big deal now, it certainly is, but back then I think the general public actually viewed it as a big deal. Now it seems like when you have 20 lbs to lose people look at you and say..well why don't you just get that surgery?
Sorry folks..it ain't that easy.
Anyway..I digress..

So he..this man of science looks at me and in front of my mother begins to ask me a string of the most embarrassing questions Ive ever had to answer in my life...well up to that time anyway.

Do you ever look at other womens bodies and envy them? yes..
So you look at pictures of naked women? ....umm not usually...
Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror naked? ...NO! ( which was a lie..but god in front of my MOTHER??!!)

When you do..do you touch yourself? (No..he didnt say that last one...but it sure felt like it was headed that way!

Then on to..

Do you feel shame when you see people looking at you eating? ...sometimes...
Do you realize how much you eat every day? ...yes I think so...
Do you know what you are doing to your body? ....no answer...

These he did ask. I remember.

These are the ones I really remember the most but the inquest persisted for a good half hour.
When Heir Frenchie finally shut is cruel trap I thought OK. Well on to the next step.

So what about that surgery mac?

His suggestion to me was that I lose 80 lbs on a liquid diet..which I could conveniently buy there... and then come back for liposuction.

So he packed us off with mock ChIKIn Poop..I mean SOUP..and other assorted vile flavors of this protein shale crap and said good luck!!! See you in 4 months!!

No surgery, but I was going to be eating the same stuff that you did when you got the surgery, I just didn't have a tiny pouch to fill it with. I had The Monster to satisfy.

I go home. I was more depressed than I was when we went.
As it happened it was dinner time when we got home, or close to it and my mom began to prepare something like baked chicken and veggies for dinner.
Suddenly, as I looked into the plastic bag provided to me by Mr. Frenchie assistant #1 that contained my meals for the next 3 months I started to cry.

I went to my room. Trying to avoid the smells of dinner and cried so hard I thought I was going to be sick.
( actually remembering it now makes me tear up..no joke)

A little later my mom came up and told me it was time for "dinner" and I went down and made a HUGE bowl full of the Mock ChiKin poop, took it back up to my room and swallowed it as best as I could. I drank it all. I was that hungry.

Over the next few weeks I tried as hard as I could to stick to that liquid diet and not cheat. I even sat in front of a gospel program on TV thinking,..OK, I'll write to them and maybe if they pray for me it will help.
So I send off my letter pleading for help with my weight and my sores that I had begin to claw into my skin out of nervous frustration..( yeah thats another story) and my 5$ donation..just in case.
A few weeks later after I get a response back saying thank you for your donation. We are praying for your WRIST and your SONS to be healed....I guess they couldnt read my handwriting...


Anyway, the liquid diet...pfft! It didn't last. My will to eat became stronger than ever and I began to sneak things so my mom wouldn't be disappointed in me and still slurped down the vile shakes.
I even started to try and make myself vomit but never could quite get there.

I left for college and started to really lose weight for the first time in my life. But that was because for 5 months I didn't go to the cafeteria, for fear of eating in front of strangers and was
living off the Lipton Cup -O - Soup my mom had sent me in a care package.
One time I got so hungry I actually broke into my suite mates room while they were home for the weekend and raided their food stash. I left a note of apology with a 20$ bill and said it was a friend of mine in another dorm that was hungry and drunk and needed the food.

I did lose weight then though. A lot of it. But soon after coming home I started to gain it back and didn't stop until I topped the scale 7 years ago at close to 400 lbs.

Sometimes I think about that time at Dr. Frenchies office and wonder. What would my life be like now if I had been allowed to have the surgery then?
I cant have it now as an adult because my insurance wont cover it, but then it would have.
What if Id had a decent Dr that listened and didn't make me feel horrified?
I entered with hope, and left feeling ashamed and more embarrassed and hopeless than I had when I came through the big fat doors!

Ive carried these thoughts and so much more with me for so long. Ive tried to explain them to different people here and there in my life but I cant seem to get the real impact out.

I'm not saying that one Dr. or once incident in general fucked me up entirely, but I will say I'm 37 years old and I can still see his face and hear his voice.

I don't remember being as afraid to eat in public as I was after meeting with him, although the fear was there before for sure.
I don't remember spending endless hours examining my body in the mirror and crying before that, but I did afterwards.
I still feel in many ways like I'm still 17. Trying to fit in, have a normal life. My life is going by me in a flash and I'm still mentally in high school.

I guess I am just hoping that by going to a good Dr maybe I will be able to find what it is in me that keeps me going back to the comfort of food and further away from my real self that been buried for so very long.