It’s a weird feeling now I’ve made the decision to have the surgery. It’s like my brain is at a loss for something to worry about.
I’m not saying I floated around in a cloud of bliss today. I certainly didn’t. It was a Monday. It was too hot. I didn’t get to work at the time I’d planned. Lunch was not nice at the canteen today. My office is basically a sauna in this weather. I didn’t get enough sleep last night.
But I felt a new calm inside. I’m going to succeed this time. This isn’t one of those “Maybe This Time” moments. It’s a “Definitely This Time” moment. I remember a long time ago, a friend sent me a cryptic message asking “What if you knew you couldn’t fail?” I thought maybe she’d got into witchcraft or found Jesus or something because that’s not something that people usually say. It turned out later that she was talking about weightloss surgery, but in my arrogance, I dismissed that.
It is an incredible feeling though. Knowing that you’re not going to fail. For every diet I’ve been on and nearly been on, I genuinely believed I would follow it and succeed and be thin, but now, I don’t even have the niggling doubt I used to have. I’m actually going to succeed. I’m actually going to be thin. It’s real.
This is big. This means I get to draw a line under something. I actually get to move on. For 25 years I’ve been planning what kind of Connor I’d be once I lost weight. Now I can be that Connor.
It feels like someone I’ve been friends with for years has asked me to marry him and I’ve just realised that I’m in love with him too. A rest-of-my-life solution was just sitting there beside me all these years and I’ve only just seen it now.
I’m not waiting for the NHS. I can’t wait two or three years. Not now that I know this is the man I’m going to marry. I need to make him my own. I’ve already made an appointment with a private consultant. I’m going to be thin before I’m 40. Not maybe. Really.
The surgery will cost about ten thousand pounds. There’s an extra £500 for those with a BMI over 50, which is kind of mean and seems to go against the whole spirit of the thing. It’ll be a down payment of about £1000 and then payments of about £240 a month for four years, so it’s basically like buying a car. But better. It’ll be a struggle to put together the down payment, but I’ll manage.
I’ve spent an hour or two today googling my surgeon and reading the last three years of his Twitter. He has kind eyes. He’s from Northern Ireland. He likes gays and hates the DUP. He gets loads of good reviews online and lots of his former patients comment on how funny he is. (That could just be because he’s Irish. Sometimes I think I could say anything to a Londoner and they’d laugh because I said it in an Irish accent.)
My appointment with him is on August 25th. I could have the operation done by the end of September. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Brand New Connor on the way!