I wonder when my universe will stop revolving around the fact that I've lost this huge amount of weight in a short period of time.
Will I ever be--or can I ever be--just Jen? If I had lost the weight through conventional dieting, I suppose some day I'd just be a thin version of me. But because I had my innards reorganized and permanently altered, will I always be a gastric bypass patient?
Right now it's still easy to let it define my life. I have different eating habits and different nutritionals requirements because of it. It keeps me set apart from people in some ways.
But I'm at this point now where I'd like to let it start taking the back seat at family gatherings and in conversations with friends. I could just be me and worry about the last 10 pounds to lose like every other American woman.
Sometimes, though, I worry that I need the definition. What if there's nothing special enough about me to set me apart from people other than the surgery? What if it really is the only thing that makes me interesting?
We wear these labels around our lives. Some times they get slapped on us, some times we paste them on ourselves. I think they're probably like bumper stickers...they stick on us, making statements, getting all grimy and tattered, until we get up off our asses and peel them off ourselves. So what do you do then with the suddenly clean spot where the old one was? Stick on another?