Post Gastric Bypass Plastic Surgery -To Be or Not to Be

Welcome to the Good, the Fat and the Hungry. I'm Karla and I have been -- or am -- all those things. Here, I will share with you my lifelong struggle with my weight, and I hope you'll follow along on with my determined attempt to lose nearly 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every win and setback along the way every Tuesday and Friday.

Wow! You mean people actually READ my posts? I guess the many comments from my last post mean that they really DO! I find that absolutely thrilling. Whether you agree with my decisions about my body or not, I thank you for taking the time to comment. I am honored. I read every single comment and most of the time, I reply -- so feel free to let me have it. Agree or disagree, your thoughts are just as important as mine. Only difference is these are my posts, so I get to speak first. LOL I like stirring the pot, so here's more on last week's post: plastic surgery after gastric bypass.

I started blogging as a way to share my weight loss journey from soup to nuts. It is also a great way to make me accountable for what I do, publicly. After having gastric bypass in 2006 and fitness becoming my companion in 2007, I thought my experiences were worth sharing. I am not a medical professional but speak solely from my own struggle to battle the demon of obesity. I was excited to see the many different views on my upcoming surgery. Some folks said had they lost massive weight, they would not care about the plastics afterwards. I think that is great. They should not do it.

However, I am not them, and I do care. I care very much. Not for the sake of vanity but for the sake of going all the way and finishing what I've started. My first surgery a few months back was abdominoplasty/panniculectomy. This was not a simple tummy tuck but an extensive excision of nearly eight pounds of skin. Having lost 214 pounds, I hate to think that I would've been stuck with eight extra pounds sagging from my midsection. That's the average weight of a newborn, eight pounds in SKIN! Sure I could've lived with it but thanks to insurance and it being deemed medically necessary, I didn't have to. The excess skin from my abdomen hung so low I jokingly called it a coochie curtain. It is now gone and I am on my way to a six-pack. This will be the first one I've ever had, well, that I didn't drink, anyway.

As for the rest of me, I look absolutely amazing. When I'm fully clothed. Naked -- not so much. My arms are toned and thanks to weight lifting with Jake the man, I have muscles you can clearly see bulging on top. But underneath is four inches of deflated skin, which just hangs around with nothing to do. My shirt size is a firm 10/12. However my size 14 arms didn't get the message yet so I have to decide between shirts to fit my big arms or ones that fit my smaller frame and suffocate my arms. Not a choice I want to make. With summer approaching, I'll take the scar that the surgery will leave versus long sleeves on my vacation to the Caribbean. My arms look like Brutus, but the rest of me looks like Popeye. That will never do.

I have a great pair of breasts. On my back. The front -- nope -- but the pair on my back are at least a C cup. I told my surgeon she should just turn my head around because the pair on my back look far better than the front. Two rolls that may have been love handles once upon a time still plague me. Why do they call them love handles when we hate them so much? I guess I love them now because they are going bye-bye forever.

Should I keep these things as a souvenir from my 400-pound days? Have I lost an entire PERSON to remain covered up due to remnants from fatter days gone by? I think not. I am blessed to be able to have surgery of any kind. If I weren't able, I would still be happy with my weight loss. But the fact that I can makes me a whole lot happier. I admire all the brave warriors who feel like plastics are not for them and are fine with the excess skin. That is wonderful. But I ain't them. I do not run, walk, lift weights, dance and swim five times a week to have to tuck excess skin into my sleeves like shirttails. In my mind, this is a way to further enjoy the fruits of my labor. No, these things are not for everyone. However, I'm OK in saying that they are for me.