I can confidently say the hardest part of surgery and recovery has been the lack of showers. I’m a 2x a day showerer, and going 3 weeks without a proper shower was a challenge…to say the least. For 3 weeks, I was creative with the XL body wipes, rinse-free scrub pads, portable bidet, baby wipes, and salicylic acid wipes. So, it’s not like I was riiiipppeee when it was finally time for a shower. However, there is nothing quite like stepping into a hot (or lukewarm-ish for now) shower and letting the water just wash over me.
I do my best thinking, planning, and strategizing in the shower. The sound of the water calms me and allows thoughts and feelings to surface. During my first post-op shower, there was (expectedly) a flood of emotions and feelings. This was the first time I’d really had a chance to see and touch these new legs. Usually, bath time involves inspecting incisions, removing sutures, applying antibiotic creams, and frantically trying to jam my legs back into the compression leggings before they swell too much. As I carefully washed and rinsed, I was struck by just how much they had changed in such a relatively short amount of time. The doctor and nurse keep saying you won’t see the full results for months. There’s a lot of swelling at the beginning, so don’t get discouraged. They’re right. There is a lot of swelling, but even with that, I’m still shocked by the stark difference in size and appearance.
After that initial disbelief wore off, I was hit with an overwhelming sense of sadness and grief. For decades, I beat my body into submission via restrictive diets and excessive exercise. I would starve myself, deprive my body of basic nutrients, and then push my body to exhaustion with difficult workouts. In the end, it never really changed. I’d lose some weight. I’d feel good for a little while. Eventually, my body would rebel against the severe restriction, the weight would come back, and the then more nodules would appear.
For the last year, I’ve watched my body shrink and change despite me not engaging in the usual restriction and intense exercise typically needed for this kind of change. Taking medication to properly manage my insulin resistance meant my body was working like it was supposed to for the first time in my life. The weight came off, which was great, but also the inflammation and swelling came way down. It wasn’t effortless, because I’m still me so you know I had allllll the side effects from the new meds. But compared to what I had done in the past, this was infinitely easier.
These last few weeks have been confusing because I’m enjoying all the tasty carbs, engaging in very light exercise, not dieting (per doctor’s orders!), and my body is responding how I’ve desperately wanted it to respond for years. Now, I look at my legs, and I can’t remember the last time they were this size. Let’s be clear, I’ve still got a long way to go to be fully recovered. My legs are still quite large by most standards. However, I’ve not seen them this size in at least a decade, if not more.
This feels like an odd betrayal. When I did all the things I was “supposed” to do, they grew larger and lumpier. The decades spent counting calories, weighing food down to the gram, exercising well past the point of exhaustion, going to bed hungry, beating myself up for struggling so much with a basic human need…all for NOTHING. Absolutely nothing!?
The grief hit HARD. So much of my life has been wasted obsessing over what I put in my mouth, how big my body looked, and how I could shrink it. SO much time spent avoiding situations where I couldn’t easily hide my body. Wearing unflattering clothes to camouflage all my “problem” areas. Avoiding outings and events because I didn’t have anything to wear or I was uncomfortable with how I looked. Skipping family events because I’d gained weight since the last time we had all gathered, and I was ashamed. Avoiding pictures because I hated how large and uncomfortable I looked. Sabotaging relationships because how do you even begin to explain all this to someone without sounding absolutely ridiculous?
I’m not gonna lie…there’s been a lot of sadness this week. Of course I’m grateful for how well my body is responding and bouncing back from surgery with relative ease. Taking care of my body in a few small but meaningful ways and seeing tremendous results is remarkably motivating. I can’t help but feel sad for that version of me that tried SO hard for so long and never had success. The version that nearly killed herself to see a fraction of the results I’m seeing now. The version that was constantly at war with this body. The version that felt like a failure while fervently fighting a losing battle.
I can’t take back the decades of damage I’ve willingly inflicted on myself physically and emotionally. But I can commit to being kinder and gentler with myself. I can care for this amazing body that has been through A LOT and keeps on keeping on. I can wear what I want. I can take more pictures. I can be more comfortable in my skin. I won’t let negative thoughts keep me from venturing out of my comfort zone. I won’t let shitty narratives ruin my relationships. I want to spend the rest of my life living large and unapologetically, and that begins now!
The LipeDiva 