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The fitting room

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Constance

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Tonight I spent too long in a fitting room. I know all the 'feel good', 'positive body talk' rhetoric and how we should be kind to ourselves. But frankly, I was so grossed out. Who was that fat girl in the mirror? The heaving lower belly, like udders without nipples. The new dark purple stretch marks, crawling from above my bikini line like poison in my veins. Who IS that? The ill-fitting bra, confused as to where it should rest, over or under the back rolls. The lumpy cheese thighs, spotted with patches of broken blood vessels. The butt, which starts somewhere below the back rolls and ends somewhere above the meaty calves. The stance, awkward and pigeon-toed because the thighs are too large for the feet to get much closer together. Notice I don't say MY feet or MY butt. Because it doesn't even feel like my body anymore.

The only good part of the whole interaction with 'The Body' was that it reinforced how much I would like to move forward with the surgery. My appt. with the surgeon is next week and I've been up and down with my feelings of certainty or lack thereof. In some sad but undeniable way, the fitting room, and so many other daily indignities may be what I need to muster up the ultimate certainty.

I had hoped the decision would come rationally and organically. I do the research, attend the seminars and supprt groups, read the materials and BOOM, I'm certain. But it hasn't been that way. I hear about slime and PBs and scars and no eating of dounts (Ever. Again.) and I feel totally uncertain, afraid. Like I'm a 15 year old getting a boob job or something. Like this is just so dangerous, vain and uneccesary. Sometimes I regret reading every gritty detail of any and everything bad that can happen. I think overall it has muddied what should be a clear decision.

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Tonight I spent too long in a fitting room. I know all the 'feel good', 'positive body talk' rhetoric and how we should be kind to ourselves. But frankly, I was so grossed out. Who was that fat girl in the mirror? The heaving lower belly, like udders without nipples. The new dark purple stretch marks, crawling from above my bikini line like poison in my veins. Who IS that? The ill-fitting bra, confused as to where it should rest, over or under the back rolls. The lumpy cheese thighs, spotted with patches of broken blood vessels. The butt, which starts somewhere below the back rolls and ends somewhere above the meaty calves. The stance, awkward and pigeon-toed because the thighs are too large for the feet to get much closer together. Notice I don't say MY feet or MY butt. Because it doesn't even feel like my body anymore.

The only good part of the whole interaction with 'The Body' was that it reinforced how much I would like to move forward with the surgery. My appt. with the surgeon is next week and I've been up and down with my feelings of certainty or lack thereof. In some sad but undeniable way, the fitting room, and so many other daily indignities may be what I need to muster up the ultimate certainty.

I had hoped the decision would come rationally and organically. I do the research, attend the seminars and supprt groups, read the materials and BOOM, I'm certain. But it hasn't been that way. I hear about slime and PBs and scars and no eating of dounts (Ever. Again.) and I feel totally uncertain, afraid. Like I'm a 15 year old getting a boob job or something. Like this is just so dangerous, vain and uneccesary. Sometimes I regret reading every gritty detail of any and everything bad that can happen. I think overall it has muddied what should be a clear decision.

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Guest MoOrLess

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If it makes you feel any better I have been going through the same exact feelings - up and down. And no, the bad stuff that 'could' happen isn't fun to read. But I look at it this way, I can either stay overweight and hate every minute of it or I can have the surgery and be happier, at least knowing that I am trying to improve myself. Hang in there, don't beat yourself up, and know that you will make the best decision for 'you'.

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Guest tetesnchz

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So, did you finally go thru with it what happened?, Its amazing to me how we can reffer to us in such a cruel way. we dont deserve that. This is one thing ive always fought with, me being my worst critic and sometimes my worst enemy. I mean you wouldnt speak that way about someone you loved would you? does this mean we lack love for our own person. Dont get me wrong, im not ragging on you I do the same thing, and my husband always gets angry and tells me to stop making myself feel so bad. Of course he alwas tells me im beautyful (thank god) even when i was 8 1/2 months pregnant with twins, i felt y was about to explode. God bless him. hahaha...

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