Lost my inflatable armor.
Nothing but skin and bones.
Nothing to protect me now
When they start throwing their stones.
I finally dropped my baggage.
I’m certainly much more thin.
The only problem now?
Unfortunately, so’s my skin.
I built that big wall high.
Tall enough for you.
Only a few who really knew
Could see the courtyard view.
Fat feelings of disappointment
In how I was rejected.
Only accepted when
I embraced what they expected.
I remember who you are.
I never will forget.
Those who leave a scar,
Those who owe a debt.
You pay me back
By feigning love.
One thumb up
From that little white glove.
This may surprise you,
I always deserved your like.
You were hateful and mean,
Only now does sympathy strike.
Outside? I may look tough.
Wrinkly, worn and old.
But this is recycled flesh.
Inside? I’m a newborn soul.
To those few who bothered to know,
They who loved me without fear,
I couldn’t have made it alone alive.
So. Thank you. I’m still here.
thank you, dear Readers, Breeders of radical thought
without you I’d be a noiseless gong in a scary-dark forest of not
you receive my transmissions, transgressions forgiven
you understand the urging Force of the maddened and the driven
they put me in a box, cover it with locks, ignore the insistent knocks
then wonder why through the bars i throw my jagged, hateful rocks?
but you, dear Reader, you break those locks
you answer my call and open this box
thank you, kind Listener, thank you
thank you for taming this blog beast who never had a herd
Thanks to everyone who has supported me. Read my blog. Cheered for me. Sweat with me. Held my hand, head, heart. Thanks to all you lovely, soft-hearted people.
Not everyone has been supportive. Some people, some family, some friends have been selfish or misguided. But I can’t control that. Nor do I want to. Just keep movin’.
Most of all, thank you to Sarah! I met her earlier this year. She had the same weight loss surgeon and was the main reason I decided to move forward. I met her in a restaurant the day before my last diet attempt on my own. That was to be my “last meal” before buckling down. She showed me her scars from surgery. She didn’t have to do that. She was our waitress*. She was brave to let us in. She was brave to get surgery. I owe her, my doctor and my husband my life.
She’s giving me her old clothes that don’t fit any more. She’s my inspiration. Thank you, Sarah. Can’t wait to catch up with you. 🙂 You look great. I owe you so much. More than I can repay. You rock.
*The fact that my waitress was a recent weight loss surgery patient on the day I decide to give dieting one last try before weight loss surgery is pretty freaking cool of God, the Universe and Destiny!