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I’ve been overweight for as long as I can remember. Growing up, I was always the "chubby kid" in school—struggling not just with my weight but also with the emotional toll it took. My weight became an ever-present companion, overshadowing some of life’s most joyful moments.
One of the hardest memories from my teenage years was high school prom. My friends were excited to find the perfect dress, but for me, the experience was different. I couldn’t find a dress that fit and had to lose weight just to squeeze into something passable. Instead of being a magical night, prom became just another reminder of how I didn’t fit in—literally. I also remember being at restaurants, anxious about whether I would fit in a booth or how I’d squeeze by tables without knocking anything over. These “fat fears” haunted me daily, turning simple activities into stressful challenges.
I lived like this for years. There was a point where I managed to lose 100 pounds on my own, but as with all the diets I tried, I eventually gained it back. The cycle of losing and regaining weight was exhausting. I tried every diet, program, and even medications that promised to help, but nothing worked long-term. My general practitioner eventually suggested weight loss surgery and put me on a waiting list. It took six years for my name to come up, and I can't thank my doctor and surgeon enough for giving me a new lease on life.
One of my lowest moments happened during Christmas dinner in 2019. I was surrounded by family and friends, including my boyfriend at the time, and as I sat down, the chair beneath me broke. I was mortified. Even though I was among people who loved me, the embarrassment was overwhelming. It was then I knew that I couldn’t keep living in constant fear of my weight controlling every aspect of my life.
Since having the surgery, life has changed in ways I never thought possible. The weight loss wasn’t just physical—it was emotional. I had to confront my relationship with food and face the reasons I’d always turned to it for comfort. I’m incredibly grateful that I live in British Columbia, where I had access to the tools and resources to address food addiction and develop healthier coping mechanisms. Weight loss surgery is far from the "easy way out"; it’s a complete transformation of both body and mind. The U.S. doesn't always provide enough support for the emotional aspect of this journey, which I believe is just as important as the physical one.
My main motivation for surgery was my daughter. I wanted to be the kind of mom who could do things with her—who could live fully without being held back by my weight. I wanted to live longer than my parents, who also struggled with obesity. My only regret now is not doing it sooner—if I had this surgery in my twenties or thirties, who knows how different things could have been. But I’m here now, living my best life, and I’m grateful every day.
One of the most rewarding parts of this journey has been connecting with others through social media. At first, I was hesitant to share my story publicly, fearing negative comments. But seeing how my experience helps others, and knowing I’m breaking the stigma that bariatric surgery is "taking the easy way out," makes it worth it. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I hope my story helps others see that it’s never too late to change your life.
