And her cholesterol went up, and her self-esteem went down, and her chronic depression worsened. And every doctor she visited said if she could just lose some weight, everything would be OK. And all her 'friends' said if she could just lose some weight, that boy or that girl might like her back.
She believed them, and she didn't believe them. Being fat was only the obvious manifestation of a difference that ran all the way through to the center of her soul. There was something wrong with her, it must be true, everyone said so. But she was stubborn and she resisted, somehow - thinking and believing that the people who had told her it was what was inside that counted in her youth had been telling the truth. Stubbornly waiting for the world not to judge the book by its cover.
Then one day she finally met a doctor who looked beyond her size. The doctor gave her medication that helped her depression, helped her asthma. This doctor she started to trust. When this doctor talked to her about her weight, she seemed concerned about knees and blood and bone, and didn't act like it was the outer manifestation of an inner sin.
So she listened to the doctor, and she began to catalog the pains in her knees and hips and back. She began to wish she could sit with her legs crossed or her knees drawn up under her chin. She began again to hope the cursed hope she could be normal.
But she was still fat, no matter how little or much she ate. She cycled up and down through the year, but she was still fat. Happy peasant genes, built for surviving famine and farm work, too efficient for their own good. "You're healthy except for your weight" damning with faint praise.
Her doctor, the one she trusted, mentioned surgery. She balked, her whole soul rebelled at giving the hated ones their victory. I will not believe them, she told herself. Bu her knees said "we hurt" and her cholesterol crept upward, and when the antidepressants were working she felt like she didn't want to die. So she said "I will research" and found many stories. There were good stories and bad stories, happiness and pain. Some people even died. But all of them, all of them said that even with the pain, they'd do it again given the choice.
So she said to the doctor, 'ok' - give me a recommendation. And her doctor sent her to the UWMC, to a surgeon highly recognized by his peers. And the surgeon told her good things and bad things, even unto death, and said if she desired, she was a good candidate for the surgery.
And she went home and thought to herself and said 'what is life if you can't live it?' and 'I'd like to climb mountains again' and "I'm an adult now, so if I say 'no' people have to belive me." And she thought 'who knows, and if I die on the table then at least it's done with.
So she said "ok."
Then the insurance people started being shitheads, but that's another story.