The Day That Everything Changed

It figures that there would be both a five and a three in the date today. Those numbers have been following me my whole life.

Anyway, random numerology-thing aside, I just received a call from my surgeon’s office.

I have been reapproved for surgery!

…holy shit.

It’s one thing to want your life to change completely. It’s one thing to know that it’s possible for it to change completely. It’s another thing to know that it’s going to change completely.

My stomach is full of butterflies. I’m both intensely excited and, yes, more than a little anxious. Someone’s going to be cutting into me and implanting a medical device in my guts. But that same someone is also going to be fixing a problem—two problems, really—that have been plaguing me for years.

Goodbye, hernia. Fuck you. Fuck everything about you.

Goodbye extra weight. I will not miss you. I will not miss the way you make me feel awkward around people half my size. I will not make the way you make me feel unattractive even when no one but me is looking at me. I will not miss having to move the floppy skin over my abdomen so that I don’t pinch it while lying in bed (that, kids, is one of the things about being fat that you don’t hear about on TV). I will not miss anything about you.

And you, eating disorder? Kindly die in a fire. I’m already planning to talk to someone about eradicating the fuck out of you.

*deep breath*

Here we go.