Losing weight was the easy part

I’ve struggled with my weight and food choices every single day of my life. In college, I ballooned to 240 pounds and remained that weight into my forties.

In 2012, after developing an unhealthy relationship with food and exercise and ultimately my health, I decided on surgical treatment: Gastric Bypass.

Only my husband and my mother knew of my surgery. I wasn’t ashamed of needing medical assistance, but I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion or advice. The process would be mine until I was ready to share.

Without complications, I was in and out of the hospital within a day. The physical recovery and transition through my first few months were easier than expected. As the pounds peeled away, I layered on more of my oversized clothing. I felt cold, exposed and vulnerable.

Mentally, the metamorphosis was exhausting me. My inner fat girl stood just outside the mirror image plagued with insecurities. My outside didn’t match my inside.

I’d receive compliments on the weight loss and would give a canned response. “I had gastric bypass surgery and have a lot of work in front of me.”

Even kind words felt like a pelting of spring hail. I’d brave through the situation by trying to change the subject but women tend to be fascinated by diets and weight loss. I didn’t want to come off as a hokey TV infomercial. I feared others would think weight loss surgery would be some sort of miracle cure while it was merely a tool in a greater puzzle of health.

By early summer, I’d shrunk to my lowest weight. My face resembled Skeletor and my underwear wouldn’t stay up even though I safety-pinned them together. Texas turned on the heat to full blast and I simply couldn’t stand all of the layers on my body.

I had to go shopping and it terrified me. What would happen if I lost more weight, or even worse, put weight back on.

Was I done and finished? Was I real?