Writing all these chapters about my life and my body is kind of intense. Last week, I wrote about a panic attack I had over my body three years ago, and I could feel my pulse racing as I wrote it; re-living the experience actually made me have another mini-attack.
It's amazing how much I seem to have blocked from memory. The smell of surgery recovery, the pain, both emotional and physical, that I've continuously put myself through in the fruitless pursuit of bodily normalcy... but I've forgotten good things as well.
Today I was writing about my recovery from plastic surgery, specifically abdominoplasty and brachioplasty (arms). And I was remembering the horrible, excruciating pulling at my stomach, and the fear that if I made one wrong move my belly would split open and all my insides would tumble out. But I was also surprised to remember how happy I was after those surgeries, and how confident.
The accompanying lipo made me retain so much water, I was beyond bloated. But that meant that my skin was so much firmer than usual, borderline taut even! And I was thrilled. It's funny how I kind of wish I could have those firm thighs back, even though they were only smooth because they were basically water balloons. But I was also confident because, for the first time in my life, I had two body parts that I felt I could sort of show off: my arms and my newly flat stomach. Sure, my as was still awful and my boobs were still saggy and uneven, but my belly was smooth and my arms no longer jiggled like an old lady's, and that, to me, was beyond awesome.
Before the plastic surgery, even after I'd lost a hundred pounds, I would read those women's mag articles advising readers to 'highlight the good areas' and think what good areas? To me, every part of my body was disgusting. But after my plastic surgeries, I finally felt like I had some good areas to show off.
And that pleasure is something worth remembering.
It's amazing how much I seem to have blocked from memory. The smell of surgery recovery, the pain, both emotional and physical, that I've continuously put myself through in the fruitless pursuit of bodily normalcy... but I've forgotten good things as well.
Today I was writing about my recovery from plastic surgery, specifically abdominoplasty and brachioplasty (arms). And I was remembering the horrible, excruciating pulling at my stomach, and the fear that if I made one wrong move my belly would split open and all my insides would tumble out. But I was also surprised to remember how happy I was after those surgeries, and how confident.
The accompanying lipo made me retain so much water, I was beyond bloated. But that meant that my skin was so much firmer than usual, borderline taut even! And I was thrilled. It's funny how I kind of wish I could have those firm thighs back, even though they were only smooth because they were basically water balloons. But I was also confident because, for the first time in my life, I had two body parts that I felt I could sort of show off: my arms and my newly flat stomach. Sure, my as was still awful and my boobs were still saggy and uneven, but my belly was smooth and my arms no longer jiggled like an old lady's, and that, to me, was beyond awesome.
Before the plastic surgery, even after I'd lost a hundred pounds, I would read those women's mag articles advising readers to 'highlight the good areas' and think what good areas? To me, every part of my body was disgusting. But after my plastic surgeries, I finally felt like I had some good areas to show off.
And that pleasure is something worth remembering.
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