TW: Eating disorders, mention of intentional weight loss, weight loss surgery and a sprinkle of a reference to drug use (not me, just a song).

I apologize for allowing a MONTH to pass without a dope beat to step to an email. Quite a bit has happened since I last sent out a carrier pigeon, but I want to cover it all - so expect several emails over the next short while.

For those of you who don’t know all my lore personal business (I don’t know how that could be at this point), I’ve previously had two bariatric surgeries. A lap band, which completely malfunctioned and required removal and said revision to said lap band: the gastric sleeve, performed so barbarically, I would later learn, it left me with miles of scar tissue, an eventual hernia and GERD so bad that I was eventually having to sleep sitting upright.

Now, I’m not here to debate the merits of bariatric surgery - that isn’t what this email is about AND my position on that topic is already well documented on Al Gore and Rihanna’s internet. Nor am I here to (publicly) talk shit about my surgeons, although I’ll gladly tell you who NOT to see in private, should you be in the Dallas area and considering this life choice. (Fun fact: When I was in food jail, one of my past surgeons had a clinic the next building over and I brought this to food jail’s attention - because of course I fucking did - management said they hated that fact, but he was there first lmao)

What this email is about? What is my point? What am I getting at? Where is my mind? How did I get here? It’s about tough choices.

Tired of taking ineffective medication for acid reflux, popping TUMS and sleeping at a ninety degree angle AND determined to get my money’s worth out of my health insurance (jk) - I started researching more aggressive options. I was simultaneously looking to end taking the weight loss medication (combined with an eating disorder) that nearly ended my life, but roughly maintain my current size as I had just recently given away all of my old clothes and purchased a new wardrobe to fit my post-treatment body. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own, and in the back of my head, I will also admit that whilst speaking softly, just above a whisper, the ED voice consistently trumpeted a need to get down to my exact initial post-treatment weight (I had gone through a refresher round of food jail a few months prior and my slightly higher weight was revealed to me on my way out the door). As I went to appointments throughout the spring, I asked my entire medical team for suggestions on both topics, even strangely enough, my gyno (feet in stirrups, course) and she was the first person to suggest a fix that could potentially address both issues.

She suggested I go talk to a bariatric surgeon because they are familiar with the inner workings of the stomach post-bariatric surgery AND (listening to the voice here) help me come up with a non-surgical, non-GLP-1 way to maintain (or maybe even lose(!)) weight.

So, after much deliberation - and I do mean much, because this wasn’t just a health issue, it was also a moral and ethical issue for me - I decided to have a consult.

Just a consult. No commitments, no set ideas, just exploring an option that had been presented to me. I knew I could do this, while also keeping myself safe and honoring my body as best I could. I felt confident in my ability to set boundaries and reject anything that wasn’t in line with what I felt I needed, physically or mentally. After all, this wasn’t my first time at the rodeo.

And so I went. We had a great appointment. She was very attentive and let me tell my whole story. I was incredibly upfront about my physical health as well as my mental health - from the bipolar disorder to the mountains of medication to the recent stints in food jail - all of it. Upon hearing this, she said she wouldn’t even make any suggestions until she was able to see what she was working with. This meant extensive bloodwork, imaging and a barium sulfate cocktail.

I was still exploring other options when the office called and told me I should come in. It was then I found out that my acid reflux had progressed to the point of an official GERD diagnosis, there was a hiatal hernia that was contributing to my difficultly getting food down and just confirmation of the sheer amount of scar tissue (which I could feel through my skin) the two previous surgeries had left me with.

It was at this point, (and to her credit - no mention of intentional weight loss) that she told me she could fix all of this very simply.

A gastric bypass.

A third and VERY final trip to the rodeo.

Everything got quiet. The room. My brain. The ED voice in my head. Complete silence as I took in the gravity of what she was suggesting. I also vaugely remembered her saying she’d want psychiatric clearance from my personal doctor. Everything else is a blur.

I told her I needed to think about it and talk with my husband and treatment team trio (hi y’all!) about this absolutely massive decision. I admit, I initially allowed my voice and the ED voice to be one and the same regarding the potential for weight loss here, even if it was just 25 to 30 pounds. How loud you ask? On a scale of one to ten? About a seven!

Everyone was initially against it. The louder I got, the more pushback I received. And I knew it was out of care and concern from all parties.

But even more than the prospect of weight loss, the promise of sleeping in a bed (not on a couch) and not waking up to the taste of my own stomach acid at 3 A.M. became a tangible reality.

It was at this point I decided I was doing this. And suddenly, just like that, I mostly forgot about the weight loss aspect and both Ariel brain and ED brain shut the fuck up on the topic. During the process of really explaining and advocating, the ED voice slid down to a whisper.

Eventually my husband and team slowly began to relent as the saw the work being done. It was my psychiatrist who needed the most convincing, but after a conversation with the surgeon, she finally gave her blessing. This process, along with insurance approval, took several months. Not everyone in my life was supportive. I wanted the blessing of family and a couple of other key people in my life, but most of them withheld it. And I realized that was okay. I was an adult and I could make choices for myself.

It was this realization that also silenced the ED voice on the matter of weight loss. Ariel was actively making this choice to better her life as a whole and while some degree of weight loss was to be expected, I decided to set some clear boundaries around that piece to ensure my safety.

I eventually settled on the idea of having the number on the scale kept from me. I’m choosing to focus on two things: how I feel (physically and mentally) and the fit of my clothes currently in my closet. Once those two things are in alignment, I’m done. I also put in a bottom number limit - if I were to reach a certain number on the scale before I said stop, there was to be an intervention on the part of the surgeon. And those were hard limits I made known before and after surgery. Once one of those conditions are met that point, we automatically enter maintenance mode.

I won’t go into what I had to do pre-surgery as it was positively dreadful. I successfully had surgery about two weeks ago and I had a successful post op-appointment last week; an appointment where I wasn’t informed about my weight and told to expect about two more solid weeks of pain (lmao). There will be no before and after pictures. There will be no mention of the “You can finally live your life” mentality. The ED voice has been satisfyingly silent for weeks now. I’ll never go so far as to say I’m recovered, but I’m eating several times a day, hydrating, being active, feeling great mentally, supported by so many, including a few bandwagon hoppers post-surgery. And most importantly, this was my final rodeo. I’m hanging my hat and slipping out of my boots for good.

Four other random hard choices:

Everyone told me that technically less than seven full days off work wouldn’t be enough. I made the immensely difficult decision to take another week off. More on this in another email, but I just knew I’d be bored (I mostly was) and I’d miss my job and coworkers (I did).

I basically had to blow up all of my plans for the first two weeks of October and sit my ass down. More than being bored, I DESPISE not being in control and even more, I DESPISE being needy asking for help and accepting limitations. I’ve had to do to a lot of this in the last two or three years. Even now, as I’ve returned to work, I hate having to ask my (more than willing) coworkers to grab and lift things I can’t.

Not shopping for clothes. Won’t be elaborating on this one as it hurts too much.

Keeping this to myself while giving myself time to accept that I made the best choice for myself and reconciling that with my personal beliefs and values. Two things can be true, fat bodies (mine included) are worthy and I will stand ten fucking toes down on business FOREVER.

I’ve done some a lot of shit in the very explicit interest of intentional weight loss, but this wasn’t that. And I know I said this email wasn’t about my general stance on bariatric surgery, but I will make a couple of points:

1. I will always be radically fat positive, but I also respect the individual’s right to bodily autonomy. And while I think it’s pretty easily understood that choices aren’t made in a vacuum, I accept that this can be a choice that some people, including myself, choose (for a variety of reasons).

2. Fuck GLP-1s and the horse they rode in on.

While I respect that in rare situations these types of surgeries or medications can be life altering/saving tools, in general, what’s my take?

Please see Verse 3 of White Lines (Don’t Do It)

P.S I have a song for that! Grandmaster Flash & Melle Mel - White Lines (Don’t Do It)