Browsing through the latest issue of Newsweek, I came across a quote from a plastic surgeon talking about mistakes made by other plastic surgeons, including the ones who “… perform liposuction on women in their 40s and 50s, when their skin lacks the elasticity to adapt without puckering.” Wait a minute–I’m too old for liposuction? Even if I get back to goal weight and decide it’s worth it to spend thousands of dollars and expose myself to the risks of surgery in order to look better, I’m still stuck with my saddlebags? Bummer. There’s something comforting about having a plan, even if it’s one I never intend to follow through on, and this guy is messing with that.
I looked at the Polaroids of me in my unitard (wow, that’s a goofy word, but still better than “blog”) when I got down into the 130s back in 1993. My hip bulges and saddlebags got smaller along with the rest of me, but they didn’t disappear. And now I hear that time has run out on my idle dream of getting rid of them via medical intervention. Or has it? Maybe my skin is still elastic enough–there’s probably some way to measure that. Even if it isn’t stretchy enough, maybe the puckering wouldn’t be so bad. I bet I could cover that up with clothes more easily than I can these bumps and bulges I’ve got now.
Before I can even think seriously about it–including whether I want to risk scarring, especially given how poorly my abdominal incision has healed–I need to get back to a more reasonable weight. I hate, hate, hate that I haven’t manage to maintain any of the losses I’ve achieved before. How to turn that hate into something constructive this time is the question. I don’t have the answer.
There’s still time to vote for my photos in the ManHole.ca contest (first mentioned here). Right now, the bold blossom is in the lead, and the one with lots of tiny petals isn’t too far behind. (Not much time, though–the voting ends tomorrow.)
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