Necessary Mutilation

Donna (Broad in Buffalo) before surgery

I’ve always been fat. As I write this, I struggle to catch my breath after walking to retrieve paper and pen to write my memoirs.

Why write about such an embarrassing, grotesque matter at all? Because I am about to embark on what I hope to be a life-altering, skinny-making experience called Bariatric Surgery - i.e., make my stomach the size of a peanut so hereafter I eat like a size 2, not 26/28.

In sharing my early thoughts with my husband, his reaction both hurt and didn’t really surprise me. An exact quote is: “My first wife died at that hospital” (when I gave the broad brush, including the name of the center and hospital that the local bariatric surgeon works out of). Upon further discussion, I know him and understand deeply his concerns at many levels including fear of “losing you,” worry that “you’re doing this for me,” and that he’ll lose his eating partner (something we do well together). Normal worries shared by me - but not appreciated in stereo. Clearly we have lots more talking to do if/as I get approved and time goes by.