Rachael Greer

The Freedom of Finally Being Visible

After having my third son, I told myself, “This is it. I have to lose the weight for good.” With three active boys under the age of six, I was constantly trying to keep up, but it was becoming impossible. I tried everything—Weight Watchers, keto, even prescription medication—but nothing worked. One morning, I woke up feeling flustered and frustrated. I was doing all the work that other people do, and everyone was having results except me.

I felt trapped in a body that wasn’t mine, like I was living in someone else’s skin. 

A week earlier, I had gone to the gym, finished my usual routine of running and lifting weights, but instead of feeling accomplished, I felt sad. I was burning calories, watching what I ate, but it still wasn’t enough. I asked myself, “Am I going to live like this for the rest of my life?” Carrying around 300 pounds, I could barely keep up with my kids anymore. I’d hit my wall.

I started looking into bariatric surgery, and meeting with the surgeon was the first time someone truly validated my struggle. He told me my body wasn’t failing me—I wasn’t doing anything wrong—but that my body was just resistant to change. Hearing that lifted a weight off my shoulders.

 For the first time, I felt like my battle with weight wasn’t my fault.

The surgery process itself was nerve-wracking, but I was also super excited. After surgery, one of the hardest adjustments was learning to sip water instead of chugging it—my new, smaller stomach couldn’t handle it. But I was lucky. The mental work I did beforehand prepared me for the challenges post-op. There are still days when cravings hit hard, and I would love nothing more than to devour a sleeve of Oreos. But I have the mental and physical control to push through those moments.

One of the biggest changes? I can finally walk into a clothing store and find clothes that fit. I no longer have to shop in specialty sections or plus-size stores. It’s been two years since my surgery, and I still have moments where I instinctively reach for larger sizes out of habit. My husband reminds me that those sizes are too big now—it’s still an adjustment.

Before I lost the weight, it felt like everyone saw me as just “the big person.” 

People would look in my direction but not really see me. Now, people who never gave me the time of day reach out, wanting to do things with me. It’s disappointing, realizing that some of them wanted nothing to do with me at my heaviest, but now they want to be seen with me. It’s a strange feeling and a reminder of how people can change.

Now being in maintenance mode is actually harder than I expected. The restrictions aren’t as strong, and I can eat more, which means I have to be mindful every day. I still question my cravings, and the mental work continues, but it’s worth it. Before the surgery, I felt like I couldn’t live like that anymore. Now, I feel alive and present in my life with my kids, something I had lost for years.

Looking back, waking up every morning felt scarier than the thought of surgery itself. It wasn’t really a choice anymore—it was life or death. I’d choose this path again in a heartbeat. If anything, I only wish I’d known sooner so I could have started truly living sooner.