My wife and I drove passed the office without seeing it. SIRI kept yelling that it was on our left, but we still missed it. From the outside you see two glass windows and a glass door, like a downtown shop, with the clinic name and hours in white letters that were invisible against drawn white blinds. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this level of inconspicuousness was not it.
Despite subscribing to the personal belief that bariatric surgery was a sign of personal weakness or self-hatred, I have ruminated on it for years. I would binge watch surgeries on YouTube, exhausting the internet for horror-stories. After thoroughly convincing myself that I just need to be a strong person, I would dismiss the idea of bariatric surgery as too expensive and try to renew my interest in good ol’ hard work and will power. This is not a unique story. I think I may have popped into existence with love-handles and a six-pack of jelly rolls (to quote my wife) in the 80s. I know that I have been more than 200 lbs since I turned ten years old, yoyoing close to 300 lbs throughout my teens and twenties. I have dieted, exercised, lost weight, and then gained it back. Continue reading “Save my heart, save my eyes, save the feeling in my toes…”