I am known by many names: Rubenesque, Pleasingly Plump, BBW, Large & Lovely, Thick Chick, Giantess, Full Figured, and of course Obese.  All my life I've lived at one end of the overweight spectrum or another.  In little more than two weeks my life, literally my life, as I've always lived it, will change. 

Until two years ago, living as a sensual woman of size was the norm.  After years of dieting, exercise programs (when work and energy permitted), and being a single-working mother (translation - making time for everyone and thing except me), I'd learned to accept myself and reaffirm my worth.  Admittedly, this wasn't too hard in my geographical area (plenty of men that "Love 'Em Large").  For the most part I've lived an active and full life.  Family and a small clique of great friends have always infused me with love, acceptance, and support.  So what happened to change my life this drastically? My health.

Over the last two years I've developed painful arthritis in my knees, suffered from chronic lower back pain, been diagnosed with high blood pressure, and learned I am pre-diabetic.  For the last several months I went from being pretty healthy but needing to lose some weight, to developing severe medical issues that can and may well degrade my quality of life (if not shorten it - at any time).  Needless to say, fear can be a great motivator.

So for the last nine months I've been enrolled in an extensive bariatric program that culminates with gastric-bypass surgery (Roux-en-y Gastric Bypass).  This process has entailed:

Primary Physician Recommendation
Mental Health Clearance
Dietician Consultations
Medically Monitored Gym Appointments
EKG
EDG
Sleep Study
Cardio Clearance
Ultra Sounds
Chest X-rays
Insurance Approval
And Endless Lab Work

Only now that I'm within days of surgery has it hit me.  Everything is going to change.  The way I've self identified will change. 

Will I like me anymore? 

Being a large person is more than hoping you'll fit into the airplane seat, or being presumed lazy.  It's an attitude (armor) developed over time that helps you deal with the negatives that go along with the pounds, and the safe environment needed to build your self esteem. 

In forty-three years my armor became stronger than iron and fit like a second skin.  I have a helmet made of self worth and accomplishments that protected me from lethal doses of self loathing.  My chest-plate deflected countless slings and arrows, and gave me the space needed to love and be loved.  Arm and leg plates along with a shield that stretches from head-to-toe, granted me the confidence needed to plot my own course and plow through those who stood in the way.  My armor has served me well; I don't know that I'm ready or willing to put it aside.

I'm not accustomed to letting fear dictate my actions, and I'm willing to face myself head-on, and with your consent I'll take you along for the ride.  Over the next twelve months I will document my successes and failures with monthly posts and pictures. 

I won't shield either of us from the fallout, nor withhold any of the victories.  I hope at the end of this first year you'll still be with me, and together we become stronger.

New Body, New Me? - April 2010