My Brain vs. Plastic Surgery

As odd as this is going to sound - there is a small part of me that is kind of sad to be having these skin removal surgeries. I've gotten used to this body. I know this body. I know it's capabilities and short-comings. This loose, soft, mess of a bod has become my normal. And as much as I poke fun at my vagina neck and my scrotum arms - and as much as I bemoan when I hear my FUPA slapping against my legs - - I'm also kind of proud of this body. 

This body hung in there pretty damn well when I pushed both of our limits, taking us to almost 500#. This body tolerated those early "workouts" when every damn thing about them made it hurt. This body kept going, and kept working - shockingly never having a serious injury we needed to work around - until we gradually got to this point. 

So all of that might help explain why although I'm looking forward to this next step, my brain has had numerous doubts. This is going to seem so scattered and random - - but scattered & random is exactly what has been going on in my head the last couple of months... 

Do I really need to have FUPA removal surgery? There isn't really that much skin on my stomach... I can totally live out the remainder of my days unaffected by this... 

You have lost all shame. You rock tank tops all summer, even with your scrotum arms swaying in the breeze. Why do you need to cut off the flub? You've survived this long with them - - what's 20-40 more years? 

You are not a girl that lacks confidence...are you? What are doing this for? Who are you doing this for?

Is the cost/pain/time associated with these surgeries really necessary? I mean - it's not like there is something I'm going to be able to magically do post-surgery that I'm not able to do right now. Cutting off my FUPA is not going to make me a marathoner (my knees and hips are shot - - removing a few pounds isn't going to change that). It's not like I can't get out of bed, but I will be able to once I have my scrotum arms chopped off. 

The boobs. Good God! The boobs! This is the part I'm having the hardest time with... I mean...it will be the weirdest to suddenly have boobs after rockin' these crepes for so long. It's not like I went through something traumatic like my brave, strong, amazing friend who had a double-mastectomy, and more than earned herself a set of sweet cans. I bulked WAY up, then shrunk down a bit - and my tits packed their bags and left... Don't get me wrong - having some boobs that are actually where they're supposed to be, should be pretty sweet...but seriously...I'll be a girl who had a boob job (insert eye roll)

Is this just entirely too vain? Honestly. Vanity has felt, at times, like the only legit factor in choosing to go through this. To put myself through the pain. To make my family take care of me. To be "that girl" that was trying to attain a perfect body through surgery. I just have moments where this feels incredibly narcissistic and selfish. 

But the truth is - there is no other way to get rid of this loosey-goosey skin suit. It is not going to magically contract if I just keep applying lotion. There is no amount of exercising on the planet that is going to tighten this mess up. This is quite literally my only option to not have a swaying orb floating around me at all times. 

I share all of this to let you know that I don't take this opportunity lightly. I fully recognize how lucky I am to be able to do this, and I'm 100% committed to making the most of it. I am very aware of how amazing it is to be surrounded by the supportive, loving, kind, entertaining, giving people that I am. 

I am so excited (and intrigued, to be completely honest) to see what we've been working on the last 3 years - because this has been a group effort. There is no way I would be where I am now without you guys helping to keep me going. I'm happy I get to share the good, the bad & the ugly with you.

I cannot fathom what it will be like to actually see what is underneath all of this...flub. I genuinely cannot even picture it. It's mind boggling. 

Now let's see what's next...let's take Natalie 3.0 for a spin, and see what she can do...

Have you submitted your guess for the weight of the FUPA? Do that here: Guess the weight of the FUPA (I fixed the link)

It Puts the Lotion on the Back

I think I was born with a FUPA...I probably came out of the womb covered in goo, rocking a fupe. I don't recall a day where I didn't have one. Sure - there were varying degrees. Some smaller - some so, so large. Now it's can best be described as saggy...a loose pendulum swaying side to side with my movements. 

While I had issues working around my whole body those last few years, my stomach was definitely one of the most problematic. I couldn't bend at my waist - - so trying to get my shoes tied, get a golf ball out of the cup, and a million other things - proved nearly impossible. You should have seen me struggle to cut my toe nails, or paint them...laborious to say the least!

This most recent version and I have developed a rhythm. For most of the past couple of years I co-existed with this more deflated version of my FUPA less than consciously. It became automatic to tuck my multiple layers around it, trying to keep the crevices clean & dry -- doing my best to not develop any of the painful looking rashes/skin irritations I have seen others suffer from. It became this soft and squishy extension of myself that I honestly barely noticed...

Well...barely noticed until I'd do certain things at the gym. When I exercise, I repeatedly reposition my workout pants to try to keep them between my FUPA and upper thighs - bound and determined to avoid chafing. Any sled-pushing, and burpee-doing, would result in an audible slap of my FUPA against my legs. Scott claims he couldn't hear it, but that sound was deafening to me...

So as my FUPA and I enter the end of our time together, I've tried to pay attention. To not overlook the inconvenience it causes. To not diminish the tedium of insuring my skin is properly protected and cared for. To actually see the drawbacks of having this dangling mass hanging off my body - - not just the weight of it, but not being able to see some of the progress I've made working my ass off for the last 3 years. I have no idea what's under there, and I'm finally willing to admit I'm pretty damn excited to see it.   

I'm looking forward to having "the spread" (the extra bulk on my hips/ass that spreads out when I sit down) tightened up a bit. (pulling up my lower core area will also pull up my upper thighs/hips/ass) I may legitimately fit in my plane seat, and not have the the spread spill under the arm rests next to me! For a girl who is really happy to finally fit in a plane seat again, this is just the icing on the cake! 

The only drawback is that I will legitimately no longer have an ass. I didn't realized that until we were doing "FUPA's Last Photo Shoot" and I made that video. When I pulled up on the top of my rear, that baby was GONE! Hopefully Dr Camp can build me a little something...we all know I have the extra material... but I've also warned Scott that my return to the gym will have to be known as "Operation: Build a Booty". 

We are down to our last 9 days together. It has been nice having this time to actually observe the changes to my body more closely than I have since my weight loss surgery...and it will be weird as shit for a while when it's gone...but I adjusted to this body pretty quickly. I'm confident I'll be just fine in my new FUPA-less existence. 

Have you guessed the weight of the FUPA yet? Here is a link: FUPA Weight Guessing Game