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Time for a Change


Benedict

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Well, the time has come for me to right my final blog as an unaided dieter. I will hopefully be signing back in soon after the operation at the weekend to update the few and far between people that read this that I made it through to the other side (well, not that other side...this side of that side!).I don't have much to talk about myself in this "instalment" - instead, I would like to focus on others.With the operation being so close, I have had to disclose details to a couple of very close friends and some family. Initially, I wasn't planning on telling anybody about this until after the fact; but good sense and a certain amount of social responsibility crept in.Being very fragile beasts, us humans don't take kindly to people doing things that apparently put themselves in danger and knee jerk reactions take hold. The first thing everyone did (and, if you are reading this as a friend or family you will probably do) was stand amazed. Their mouths drop and form the agape and hollow "O" of shock and horror. Then, they furrow their brows in utter confusion."Did he just say what I thought he said?""Is he serious?"Well, yes I believe I did...and I do think that I am.The reason they are doing this is primarily out of ignorance. Not in life in general, but to the procedure. They immediately see knives, death, butchers, stapling, cutting, more death, blood, guts, bruises, some more death and blood; but, most of all, they see failure.I often like to consider myself well educated and quite intelligent - just because I am very arrogant like that. But, this time I know for a fact that, on this particular subject, I am far more read up than everyone I have told and will tell in my circle of friends. Even more informed than one of my closest buddies, the heart surgeon. All because I have read everything there is to know about the procedure and the lifestyle changes involved - because it is happening to me. Not one person I tell will have read anything outside of the odd celebrity tabloid splash.No I am not so up myself to imagine I know more than all of them on every subject - in fact, I would say I know a tincy wincy bit less than the heart surgeon in the field of say, heart surgery. But, I'm sure he recoiled at the horrors of voluntary general anaesthesia. Something he himself went through for a dicky shoulder not so long ago.Neither am I assuming I am better versed on my friend the multi-marathon runner and ultimate endurance athlete in the topic of fitness. Even with the best will in the world, his knowledge on the subject was so far superior than mine that nearly every word he uttered to me on the subject - and there was a lot - didn't fit into my brain and fell immediately out the other ear.So, when it comes to informed decisions on Lap Band surgery, I am the one who can make that and confidently know I am making the right decision.I would, challenge anyone who is preparing to consider me a failure or taking the easy way out to do some research of their own on what I am going to go through and come back to me when they feel they are even half read as I am (and as the thousands of fellow chubsters across the globe become before making this decision) - and try and counter-argue why I have chosen this path and what I am doing it for. I bet your bottom cream cake that they won't attempt to.Immediate reaction is a good thing in terms of survival - but I would suggest that if you are finding out about my experience on this blog and you know me - please don't jump and judge me for taking my last resort on turning the corner on a very tiresome journey to 215lbs.For a simple and effective tutorial on how I came to this choice, follow these steps:

  1. Smoke the strongest marijuana you can find until your eyes nearly fall out of your head. Get hold of that feeling of the most uncontrollable munchies and maintain that pose for fifteen years - sitting opposite a bowl of your favourite comfort food. Keep smoking and stay in front of that food. When you succumb, invite people to mock you for another fifteen years for being a failure.
  2. Go into a hall of mirrors and look at the biggest, ugliest version of you that you can find and proclaim that you love the way you look in that mirror...do this for fifteen years, whilst praying that someone smashes the mirror. When they do, turn around and realise all mirrors now show the same thing.
  3. Go shopping for clothes that do not exist in your size and ensure that the assistants look down their noses for you having the gall to ask if they stock anything appropriate. Do this every weekend. For fifteen years.
  4. Strap a fully grown small adult woman to your chest and walk around for fifteen years like that - don't worry, she will just hang there and say nothing. She may prod you in the liver once in a while, give you diabetes and make people laugh and be disgusted at you once in a while - but that's not too much for you to take is it. When, after trying to get her off repeatedly for fifteen years and you decide the time has come to ask somebody to help you unstrap her...watch out - I understand that people maybe judging you for being a failure of for taking the easy way out.

All I ask is that you close your agaped "O" and think. How bad must my health and self-image be for me to make this choice. Me - the coward of everything; from flying planes to tiny spiders. Me - the hater of hospitals and needles. Imagine how much misery and pain I have suffered quietly for over fifteen years to entrust myself to a surgery that I really wouldn't want to have if I did not have to. Imagine if you were as heavy as me.All I ask is that you empathise, do some research and realise it's not quite what you think and wish me well on my way to being healthy.See you all on this side of the other side.Respect!My Blog - Banded BenMy Site - Benedict Francis

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