Nobody ever warned me that I was going to wake up one day and literally feel sick of what was staring back at me in the mirror, disgusted, revolted, sick.
Before any of this back crap happened, I was enjoying life, like I should be, like anyone should be. But after my 1st surgery, I didn’t realise just how much I was changing. Emotionally and physically. I didn’t eat any more than I usually did, in fact I probably ate less, due to the side effects of all the tablets, I ate healthy, drank so much water, everything I did before, but I was less active. Obviously.
Being told constantly by GP’s and Surgeons “You know you really are fat” – and no I’m not exaggerating, those exact words exited their mouths countless times – is a bit of a sole destroying moment. The thing that hurt the most? They ALL saw me prior to my 1st back surgery and knew that I wasn’t the size I am now. But instead of helping me, it felt like they just kept beating me with the fat stick.
I had had enough of being belittled every time I visited this one specialist, that when he mentioned my weight again, I literally lost the plot. In a sea of red list that descended I said to him “Instead of constantly saying I’m FAT all the time, why don’t you actually help me, and make my back better so I can be the person I was? I came to you for help with my back, and you haven’t helped me, so why don’t we concentrate on that first”.
I think he was just as stunned as I was, that the anger towards his spiteful fat comments had actually burst through the surface, there was now no longer the elephant in the room.
The first time I was told I was fat, was enough to make this lasting impression on me. The first time it was said, was 5 weeks after my 1st major spinal operation. Barely able to walk, he was expecting me to run a fucking marathon and be a size zero. Bite me.
I have never been ok with my weight, like so many other people, I’ve lost, I’ve gained and lost it all again. I’ve never tried all these fad diets, because I just couldn’t live on a shake every day, let alone eat cabbage soup *pass the sick bucket*.
But for the first time in my life, around 2009/2010 I was happy with my body. Happy is a bit extreme, but I could look at myself in the mirror and not want to cry. I got married in 2010, and you know what I actually looked pretty damned good if I do say so myself. I love to look at our wedding photo in the house and relive the day in my memory, but my heart, it’s filled with sadness, because that person staring back at me, doesn’t exist anymore.
3 months after my wedding and BOOM. My happiness snatched away from me as quick as lightning. My body will probably never be the same now, and my mental feelings towards my body will probably never be repaired.
The damage is done. The damage isn’t going to be fixed easily. All I can do is carry on. And hey, I will probably never run a marathon or even climb Mount Everest, but maybe one day I will learn to love what I see in the mirror.
Maybe one day soon I’ll be able to look in the mirror…..