You read that right- I am having bariatric surgery on April 22nd, 2024. A Gastric Sleeve to be precise. To learn more about the procedure, click the link to my surgeon’s website, here.
The Past Shapes the Future
I don’t remember a time when my weight wasn’t a source of shame or self-hatred. For every beautiful and positive memory I have, there are at least three negative memories or experiences I can recall that stem from my weight and being bullied, discriminated against, or shamed for the way I look.
Painful Young Memories
In the 6th grade, I was a cheerleader. I can remember jumping up and down, waving my pom-poms in celebration as the boys’ basketball team ran up and down the court. I can also vividly remember one specific boy on the team making jokes about the whole earth shaking as I jumped (and loud enough for everyone in the entire gym to hear). I was humiliated. The next day I decided that I could never eat lunch in front of my peers at school again. This is the first memory I have of beginning a “diet”. What it really was, though, was food shame and the beginning of my disordered eating.
Like so many, I struggled all through the rest of middle and high school with my appearance. I was never pretty enough, trendy enough, skinny enough, my teeth were too crooked, my hair was too short or too brown. I wanted to change everything about myself. When I realized couldn’t, I would turn to the one thing that brought me some comfort and temporary happiness- food.
I remember going on an incredibly expensive medically-supervised diet program in high school. I was able to drink a meal replacement shake for breakfast and lunch, and allowed one meal per day. That meal was required to be strictly meat and vegetables. I was allowed one snack per day- one small pack of seasoned pine nuts. I was consuming just under 800 calories per day. I lost several pounds on this diet. I also lost my vibrancy. I couldn’t stay awake in class, I was so hungry all the time that all I could do was think about how everyone around me was able to go out with friends to eat and I was trapped in this cycle because my body was too fat to be socially acceptable. I gained all of the weight back and then some.
On and On it Goes
I remember random well-meaning women in my community volunteering to “come alongside of me” to help me lose the weight… Like they held the code that would finally unlock my ability to be lovable or worthy. Every time, I worked hard, lost some weight, and then failed and gained all of it back, plus more. My shame grew deeper. I was a disappointment to myself, and to others. At least, I thought I was.
In high school, one of my best friend’s boyfriends actually told me I needed to go on a diet to be able to be her friend. He forced me to only eat pickles when we were around each other (which was very often at the time). Another time, a different boyfriend of hers wanted to spend some time alone with her while I was with her, so his solution was to show up with a McDonalds cheeseburger so that I could enjoy that while they had some “alone time”.
By my senior year I had heard everything from “How far along are you? Oh, you’re not pregnant? Just fat?” to “You have a pretty face. If you just lost some weight…” to “Boys might want to date you if you tried to lose some pounds.”
When will the Misery End?
In college, I tried a variety of diets. I had met The Lord during this season of my life, so I even hyper-spiritualized my weight-loss approaches thinking that “if I just had enough self-control” I could do it. I read a book called “Fit for My King” (it is a real book, y’all), trying to will myself into honoring the Lord and treating my body as a temple. I tried the Daniel Fast. I even went vegan for about six months (Ps, if you didn’t know, you can actually be really unhealthy as a vegan… Sugar, cocoa, and vegan butter make excellent cookies). I even made a covenant with God and myself that I would lose weight and had my best friends come over and sign it as witnesses to hold me accountable.
I ended up taking a semester off of college and interning at Disney World. That was probably the healthiest season of my life in terms of my physical and mental health. I was working 60+ hours a week at times and was always on my feet. I didn’t take a car to Florida, so I walked everywhere (and took the bus). I spent my off days running around all of the Disney parks or at the beach.
Little Victories?
I came home from this internship about 50lbs. lighter than when I started. I didn’t change a thing about my diet intentionally. I attribute this major loss to my being truly happy for the first time in a very long time. When I was happy, I didn’t run to food. I ran to fun. I spent time with my friends. I lived my life to the fullest. When my internship ended, I went back to college. I gained all of the weight back, plus more.
Toward the end of my college experience, I did an internship at a church that I loved. I met my husband and we got married. Early in my marriage, my mother-in-law gifted me some “new clothes”. I was a size 24, but she gifted me a size 32 dress. I was mortified and so embarrassed and hurt that I ran and hid in the basement laundry room of our apartment building and sobbed.
Shortly after getting married, one of my bosses from that former internship called and offered me a job at a new church he was working at. I was elated to be pursued for a job in my field, and to get to work with this person that I greatly admired again. When I got there, one of the first things he said to me was “Molly, this position is a student worship position. We want the person filling this role to be one that parents look at and can say “I want my kid to be like this person in every way-” and you are definitely that person! Except for physically. So part of your job description is going to be going to the gym and losing weight.”
In hindsight, I obviously should have never accepted that role. But I had spent so many years desperate to break free from the prison of weight I was bound to that I chose to gaslight myself into believing that this person just cared for my physical health as much as he cared about my spiritual health. This, my friends, is an example of spiritual abuse.
The Turning Point
In 2017, one of my best friends got married. I was his “woman of honor” in the wedding and it was one of the most fun nights of my life. When the photos came in, I couldn’t wait to see them and relive the entire experience. And then I saw the first photo. I didn’t even recognize the girl in the photo. How could I have let myself spiral so out of control? Once again, I was embarrassed and ashamed, and I knew I had to do something.
This time, things were different, though. I started talking with a trusted mentor who helped me identify some areas of my life that were deeply unhealed. When I started to deal with those things in prayer and in counseling, I started to be able to identify unhealthy thought patterns and I was empowered to start making healthier choices for myself. Because I was worthy of those healthier choices and the benefits associated with them.
Below is a picture of me from the wedding in November 2017 (on the left) and a photo of me sitting in my car before a counseling session in March 2024 (the right).
Fast forward to my life now. I am 32 years old. I have been married for nine years. My husband and I have struggled with infertility. I have a diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder, Type II Diabetes, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, and most recently, Pseudotumor Cerebri (read more about that here). My weight is still a battle and I am often reminded of it by well-meaning friends or family members who make comments about how I just need to be more disciplined or how scared they are for me. As if I am not terrified for myself. As if I haven’t spent my entire life consumed with self-hatred over my multiple failed attempts at getting free.
But I’ve also lost 78 lbs.
It is a huge victory to have lost that much weight naturally. It took me seven years, but I have done it. Seven years of learning to scratch the surface of what it means to love myself where I am. Learning to understand what my body needs vs. what my brokenness and sinful flesh desire.
I needed the last seven years of learning, fighting, and healing to prepare myself for the lifestyle change associated with bariatric surgery. It might not be the best choice for some. But I am more than confident that this is the best choice for me.
God’s Faithfulness in the Midst of my Pain
When I first stepped onto this path, I was burdened not just by physical weight, but by a heaviness deep in my spirit. I had tried and failed numerous times, each attempt chipping away at my confidence and self-esteem. The road has not been easy. There were moments of vulnerability, where I felt exposed and defeated.
Yet, it was in these moments that I felt God’s presence the most. He was there in the early mornings when I laced up my walking shoes, in the late nights when I journaled my thoughts and prayers, and in every choice I made towards a healthier lifestyle. My weight loss journey became a spiritual journey, transforming not just my body, but my heart and soul. I learned to see myself through God’s eyes – not defined by my weight, but as a beloved child of God, worthy of love and capable of incredible things.
This renewed mindset is what led me to choose life, and to do so by having bariatric surgery. My PCP, my fertility doctor, and my bariatric surgeon have all shared with me how a lifetime of diet culture has not only wrecked my mindset, it has also wrecked my metabolism. My hunger hormones are out of whack. My relationship with food needs healing. All of these things have been, are being, and will continue to be addressed through my bariatric journey.
For once in my life, I am excited about my future, not looking ahead with fear. Doors I thought would be closed forever now seem accessible. I might finally get to carry a baby to term, hold them in my arms, and raise them. I will be able to hike and enjoy the beautiful mountains I live near. The inner healing I have worked so hard to attain will, for the first time ever, be visible on the outside.
This journey has taught me that our vulnerabilities are not weaknesses, but opportunities for God to work through us. It’s a reminder that our battles, whether they’re with weight, self-esteem, or any other challenge, are not fought alone. God walks with us, providing strength, comfort, and guidance. My journey is far from over, but I move forward with a lighter step, not just in body, but in spirit. For anyone standing at the foot of their own mountain, remember, you are not alone. With faith as your foundation, perseverance as your path, and God’s love as your strength, there is no journey too daunting, no mountain too high.
If you’re a fellow bariatric patient (or love someone who is a bariatric patient), I invite you to join my private facebook group called Bariatric Besties: A Vibrant, Supportive Community for Bariatric Patients.
