My life took a sharp turn three months into my job when a patient assaulted me, breaking my wrist. During the months I was off work, my weight ballooned.
I was in my twenties, young and dumb, and ignored the first suggestions to consider bariatric surgery. I convinced myself I could handle it, that I didn’t need any drastic measures. But deep down, I knew I was addicted to food. The pandemic only made things spiral. I’d eat healthy, then wash it down with fast food or sugar, justifying it as a reward. I couldn’t even walk up the stairs without getting winded. But in my mind, I was fine. Despite the pain in my feet every morning, and the aches that lasted all day, I pretended everything was okay.
Then, we got a dog. My husband and I thought it would be a good way to get me moving. But I could barely keep up with our new puppy. That was the push I needed to take surgery seriously. The real turning point came when I was trying on pants and had to confront the size I was now wearing. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. “Who the f**k is this?” I asked the stranger staring back at me. The person inside me was screaming to get out, but I felt trapped in a body that wasn’t mine.
I went through all the steps to prove I was a candidate for the surgery. At my peak, I weighed 309 pounds. Heart failure and disease were always in the back of my mind. When it came time for surgery, I hoped it would be my last stop. I didn’t tell many people. I didn’t want to hear their opinions or gather the bullshit stories about someone else’s failure.
Post-surgery, I lost over 130 pounds. I’m thrilled with my life now. I ran a 10k marathonc, and I no longerdon’t get winded walking up or downon stairs anymore, and watch my husband struggle with them instead. Physically, I wish I’d had the surgerydone it sooner, but mentally, I wasn’t ready. The surgery was a tool, but the mindset was the real game-changer. Following five simple rules—protein first, vitamins, hydration, movement, and portion control—I truly transformed my life. Looking back, I barely recognize the person I was. No one forced me to do this; it was all me. That’s why I did it for myself, quietly, without needing to explain or defend my decision.