Earlier this month I had my appointment with my surgeon but he wasn't available on the day so I met with his registrar instead.  It was a very brief appointment where she looked through my various results, reassured me that I'm in perfect health and had a feel of my tummy.  She told me that I had been accepted for funding on the NHS and I will now be looking at a maximum of four months wait for the operation.  It's all starting to feel very real now and I'm having to make the decision whether or not to tell my extended family and friends.  My parents and husband are all very supportive of my decision to go ahead with the surgery and have promised to stand by me all the way through.  My brother and sister, both younger than me, just want me to be happy and healthy.  I'm very close to my grandparents and have not yet broken the news to them but I really shouldn't keep them in the dark.  My gran is due for a visit next week so I will have to find the right moment to tell her, I know she will be worried for me.

In other news it was our two year wedding anniversary last week and we spent a few days in Manchester visiting the sights and museums.  All in all it was a wonderful trip away, but as with everything that involves me my weight always gets in the way.  Booking a trip away turns into a massive upheaval.  My weight and size becomes this all encompassing part of my life and I have to order everything around it.  I'm very big, but by no means ginormous and a lot of my worries are completely imaginary.  I have to make sure we have seats on the train located close to the doors so I don't have to push my bulk down the center of the narrow train.  I have to make sure that it's not at a table incase I don't fit behind it (we always end up getting allocated table seats and I've never had trouble getting in but that stupid niggling feeling is always there!)  Then there's the completely irrational fear of turnstiles.  When we got to Manchester Piccadilly station I was bursting for the toilet so we immediately went in search of some only to find that they were manned by turnstiles.  My stomach went through the floor.  I have never been stuck in a turnstile or even had trouble getting through one but the closeness to my body and the restriction makes me freak out.  I have terrible mental images of me getting trapped and everyone standing around laughing.  So I point blank refused to go.  I'd much rather wet myself than face the indignity of squeezing through one of those steel demons.

One of the most hurtful things about being overweight is the critical stare that some people fix you with.  The loud whispers behind hands and the heads whipping around for a gawp at me, sometimes it's more than I can deal with.  I feel like a circus freak, a walking amusement for everyone around me.  I get so sick of being the sore thumb in a crowd.  On the night of our anniversary we decided to go to our favourite italian restaurant for a nice meal.  We were lucky when we arrived there was only one table for two left, we sat down ordered drinks and waited.  My back was to the window, husband infont of me and the restaurant behind him.  Over the divider I could see a blonde haired woman looking directly at me, it made me feel uncomfortable but I shrugged it off, blaming it on me being paranoid.  Then I saw her talking to her friend, seconds later she whips around and looks me up and down, then the next friend and the next.  My face flushed and I tried to look away, my eyes prickled with tears.  Then I could see her jutting her chin inwards and making a disgusting face with double chin, a grotesque masquerade of me.  I'm not a violent person, never have I ever laid a finger on another human, but in that moment all I could feel was unrelenting, shaking anger.  I wanted to walk over to her and pour my champagne on her head, slap her, pull her hair, make her feel as hurt as I did.  Instead I folded.  I asked Mark to cancel our order and we left.  Only when we left did I allow myself to release the pent up aggression and I sobbed my heart into Mark's chest.  I must have promised myself a million times to never allow another person to hurt me and make me feel horrible, but yet again I let someone dehumanize me.  I felt like an animal.

Some days I just want to shut myself in the house and never leave.  It's the only way I can guarantee that no one is going to hurt me, but that isn't practical in the slightest.  I have to go out everyday and try and put a brave face on, hold my head up high and pretend everything is fine.  Torment can break a person and my mask has so many chips in it I'm surprised it still holds together.  I know that this operation will help me.  I don't want to be thin so that people notice me and think "Oh, doesn't she look nice" or "Isn't she pretty."  I want to be thin so that I can disappear, melt into the background and be able to go out without fear.