Trading Up
I celebrate my reconstruction scars and what's left of my sagging skin. It has taken me a long time to get to this point and sometimes I have to remind myself that I am at a point of acceptance, but I think I've made my peace. After a lifetime of beating myself up, I no longer hate myself for what I've done to my body. In fact, it's the reverse; I love my body for sacrificing itself for my mental health.
I won't bore you with all the details, but it hasn't always been an easy life and I haven't always been a happy girl. Food was my comfort, my solace, my ever present companion. When friends and family didn't love me (so I thought) or live up to my expectations, food did. Life is a series trade offs. I got comfort and acceptance from food, but I gave up my youthful body and eventually my health. That's OK because food kept me from becoming an alcoholic or a drug addict. I doubt that I would have made it through my teens without food. It was my drug of choice.
When I finally came to terms with the fact that I had abused my relationship with food and was ready to move on, I traded fat for sagging skin. I hated the sagging skin, but I hated being fat even more; it was a good trade. Then it was time to trade my sagging skin for scars. I'm at peace with my scars. Much to my own amazement, I'm not self-conscious about them and I'm kind of proud of them. They're proof that I'm a survivor.
Hugs,
Connie
Connie,
I feel the same way you do. I am 6 days post op from a lower body lift and breast lift and I look at my scars as a badge of honor. Not only that I could have WLS and make a better life for myself, but that I could complete the journey all the way. I don't feel self concious at all about mine, I want to shout from the rooftops what I've done and how I got these horrendous scars! I'll do anything not to go back to the morbidly obese person I once was.
Karen
Most Active
Recent Topics
