Dagne Tripplehorn
I had a latent eating disorder from childhood. Treats were scarce in our home and I sneaked food and ate compulsively. Despite that, I was a slender child and later was usually the thinnest woman in any room. My life was active and crazy, and I had the worst self-esteem I've ever heard of.
I had surgical menopause in my 30s. My fiance left me because of the surgery. My children grew up and moved out, I moved away for a job, I was lonely. I quit smoking. I moved to a backwater town for another job and got lonelier--and the job was awful, largely because of the small-minded, vicious women I worked with. I got my masters degree while working full time. Then I got arthritis and couldn't walk or exercise much. The result of all this: I gained 200 lbs.
Now I was always the fattest woman in any room. (Strangely, although I was disappointed in my food addiction, I didn't hate myself as badly as when I was young and thin.) I longed to be free and mobile again. I could no longer enjoy being outdoors in nature. I couldn't walk on the beach, couldn't hike nature trails. I couldn't do my own housework (not that I wanted to), hated being in public, especially alone. I had disabled myself physically and socially.
Like most morbidly obese people, I failed at many diets and plans. I lost weight a few times and gained more back. When people suggested weight loss surgery, I refused to consider it. It was barbaric and crazy. But when I found out my new insurance would pay for it, my feelings changed. I had grown old being obese. I hoped to live a couple of decades longer and wanted to be able to travel and live life. I went for it.
As of this writing I'm five weeks post-RNY. I still have occasional tummy pains, but have lost some weight. It's slow, but it feels wonderful to not crave massive quantities of bad food constantly, and that freedom alone is worth the surgery. WLS has given me a reboot.
