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Hey there, it’s me again. I know, I know, my last newsletter was months ago, with a promise of more regular updates. But I come to you today bearing content — and a pretty big life update. Just a quick warning: I talk at length about body image, weight loss, fatphobia, and a lot of general body stuff. If that’s not what you need right now (or ever!) please consider skipping down to Lemon Zest for some fun, non-body related recommendations. As some of you original Lemonaders (is that a good nickname? do you even want a nickname?) know, I started this newsletter with a big admission about my mental health in the name of hopefully helping break the stigma and to show others they aren’t alone. So, in the name of being consistent with the origins of this newsletter, I am making yet another big admission: On Monday, July 18, I had bariatric surgery — also known as weight loss surgery. I have a lot of thoughts I want to share with you around this decision, why I’m telling you now, and why I haven’t brought this up before, so this might get long and rambling. Stick with me, if you can. One of the reasons I didn’t write this newsletter over the past few months was because my mind has been so wrapped up in the prep for this surgery, I found it impossible to write about anything else. I’ve been working with doctors, my therapist, a nutritionist, an exercise expert, and many more medical folks for nearly a year and a half to prep for this surgery. It was not an easy decision. But I knew it was the right one for me. Yet, it has felt nearly impossible for me to share my choice with the people around me. On one hand, my internalized fatphobia was so deep that I was scared to admit that I was even “fat enough” to qualify for a surgery like this. In the same way I grew up covering my stomach in the hopes no one would notice it, I felt that if I told people I was getting this surgery the curtain would fall and they would suddenly realize I was fat. Something about that felt so embarrassing. Can’t we all just pretend I’m not this size, everything is fine, and move on? On the other hand, while I scrolled through hours and hours of before and after pictures, I sometimes felt like my fatphobia was the one leading the charge for this surgery. Was it really for “health reasons?” Even though my vitals are and always have been perfect. Or did I just want to force my body into a skinny mold, to not stand out as much? And then aside from both of those worries, I truly feared (and still do, tbh) that I will permanently be viewed as a fatphobic, non-body-positive person because of this choice. That one really hurts. Because on my list of why I got this surgery, hating my body isn’t anywhere on there. But I know my choice is going to be triggering for some friends and acquaintances who still struggle with feelings towards their body and weight loss, and that sucks. I also know that I could not continue living life at the size I was at. I have always loved fitness classes, finding new forms of movement, and gym culture (I wrote more about that last year). But I’ve also been on diets since I was in third grade. These two behaviors combined began to warp my body so much that one day, after “failing” at another new diet, I found that I was unable to complete a 30 minute yoga class — even though just two years prior, I was attending yoga classes weekly. When I went to the gym to lift weights and row, I found that I suddenly couldn’t balance on the rower any more, and I barely fit in some of the weight machines. This made me too anxious to continue this kind of movement and exercise, and my body got stiff, tight, and weak. This trend continued as I went about the past few years of my life — not being able to fit into a chair at a restaurant meant I stopped wanting to go out, instead ordering in more. Finding myself out of breath walking up a flight of stairs made me uninterested in places where I knew I’d have to do stairs in public, like a museum. I have always loved musicals, but I didn’t attend any for years because I knew I would barely fit in the chairs, if at all, and even if I did, everyone sitting next to me would hate me. Same with airplanes. The obstacles for my body just seemed endless. And I ~ know ~ that these are societal issues. They are not a reflection of who I am or my worth. It does not make me a bad person for facing these obstacles. If you face these obstacles (or more), the same goes to you. It’s a failing system, you’re not a failure. The same goes for me choosing to get this surgery. I did not fail at life and need surgery to fix it. Nor am I taking “the easy way out” (remember, almost a year and a half of prep, classes, evaluations, etc!). It’s just a decision that made the most sense for me. Whew. I know that was a lot. This has been a long process and the journey isn’t even close to over yet. But I appreciate you reading through this and sticking by my side. If you have any questions about my journey or my decision, please feel free to reply to this email! I’d love to chat. Now, to get to the things I normally talk about in this newsletter. This surgery has introduced opportunities to do much reflecting and inner work. I get to create new routines for every part of my day as I work to hit my protein goal, take all my vitamins and meds, and hit my walking goals. I am forced to rest more than I ever have before — walking just a few blocks or even holding a long conversation with a friend absolutely wipes me out, and I’ve been taking daily naps for the first time since Pre-K. I also have to find a tracking and planner system that truly works for me, since measuring how much protein and liquid I consume every day is crucial at this point post-op. So, again — lots going on, lots of big changes, but I’m excited and ready to move forward. I hope you are, too! Thank you again, and talk soon, Emily P.S. This newsletter is NOT going to become a newsletter dedicated to my surgery or weight loss journey. If you’re new or want to check out my previous issues, you can do so here.
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