Hey I Just met you
And this is crazy
Answer these questions
I’ll clear you for surgery maybe

No, I have not tried any of the aforementioned crash diets. Yes I am sure. I have never used over the counter “diet” pills, nor have I abused medication for the purpose of losing weight. And I don’t binge and purge.

Do I binge and not purge? What exactly are we talking about here? I’ve done a line of Oreos. I’ll admit it.

I didn’t do commercially available diets because I’ve always believed DOCTORS that said exercise and a well balanced diet was sufficient. I didn’t do them because I knew yo-yo dieting was unhealthy and the longterm effectiveness of such diets are abysmal. I didn’t do them because I LIKED myself and didn’t give a fuck. I’m fat, obese even, and I LIKE myself. Isn’t that crazy? Although hopefully not too crazy, as I do hope to pass this psych eval.

Isn’t it ironic that I am now at risk, although I am fully insured, of not getting my health care needs met because I 1) am truthful 2) am well informed 3) listen to my doctor and 4) am not full of self loathing. If I failed more, if I took my health less seriously, if I made crappy lifestyle choices, if I let my BMI creep a bit higher…I would get my needs met. I would be a shoe-in for bariatric surgery, a model patient.

Many of these questions gauge my level of desperation. To what lengths would I go to lose weight- self injury? Do I deserve this choice? Have I worked hard enough for it? Have I suffered enough? And the worst is- have I tried everything else, is this my last resort? That mindset is so annoying. Of COURSE I haven’t tried everything. It is not humanly possible to try everything. Are we really going to set the bar there? No bold steps, no grand gestures, until you’ve tried everything else. Fuck that. I have one life to live.

My grandfather and my father before me, both big and active people were struck. My grandpa was diagnosed with diabetes and died of a heart attack in his sixties. Too soon. My daddy lives with diabetes and all the rigors of diet and exercise and pharmaceuticals and side effects that it entails. My grandpa whispers, “take care of yourself, don’t die from this” and my dad says “do whatever you can to avoid living with this”. So here we are, a life and death situation. What more convincing should be needed? Can I have door number three please? Can I seize this moment in time and change everything?

Believe me, I considered getting strategic about the psych eval. I thought about a tent-like top to look bigger, therefore needier. I could’ve accentuated my limp, taken an extra beat to lift from or lower to my chair. I have the acumen to really peel apart those questions, answering in a way that makes me sound worthy of help yet not pathological. I’ve honed my codependency skills for years (don’t fail me now!).

But here’s what stopped me. I was reminded of so many IEP meetings with my kids where I had to really bring all their deficiencies to the forefront in order to get the services they needed but hold back enough so that they weren’t placed in a more restrictive environment. All of this divulged to near strangers whose reports I had to decipher and the implications of which I had to predict. It was such a stressful, high stakes game. I had to shut down part of myself to get this dirty deed done. There are so many parallels to my current situation. But I have a choice this time and I am a smarter, more seasoned me.

I will walk this path with authenticity. I began this journey in self-love and thats the spirit in which it will continue. The ends justifying the means always comes with a price. And if I save myself from the manipulation and untruth then I can transport all that energy to dealing with the unavoidable means- the doctors, the appointments, the lifestyle changes…Just the unavoidable is a lot, I need to protect my spirit.

Its laughable to me to think of what I’m going through as the end of a long, miserable pursuit because to me this seems like just the beginning. And its really hard. I’m so glad I haven’t had a lifetime of obsessing about my weight before this, before all the poking and prodding and weighing and measuring and testing and documenting involved in this journey. I’m so far out of my comfort zone, I can’t even see land. I could NEVER do this from a place of desperation and disgust. But I can do it, and a whole lot more, out of love. A radical act of self-love. And that essential piece is the one nobody wants to hear about.

My surgeon says high blood pressure or diabetes or sleep apnea is the golden ticket, but I think (secretly) that self-love is. I would add bravery but the truth is, I’m scared shitless. But somehow, through love’s lens it all looks possible and I am led by my deepest core instincts and my weak backbone just comes along for the ride. Love is the engine.

Did I pass?