I Must

I write, again, and again, I write. I don’t quite understand why I must. Why I must put these random thoughts down on paper, or whatever it is that we put them down upon. But I must do this. You may, or may not care what I have to say. May agree, or again may not. But I must express myself. Express myself publicly. Physically expose my thoughts, my feelings, what I want to present. It is strange, I want your blessings, your approval, I want you to like what I write. But at the same time, I really could care less. I have to write these words. I must write them.

I must.

So much has changed in the last two years. Too much. Really, sometimes it is just too much. One must be prepared beyond belief to deal with the change. The weight loss, the attention, the changes are almost too much to bear sometimes. Not that I would change anything, not one single thing. I cannot even imagine being 450 pounds again. I would venture to guess that SWMBO would agree. She can’t even imagine herself being almost 300 pounds again or me at 450. I even have trouble remembering that person today. Just 18 short months later. Who was that person, why did he get that big? How could he get that big? It is one of the reasons I blog. One of the reasons I write. I don’t want to ever forget that man. Ever forget that pain. Ever forget those feelings of inadequacy, the pain of that life, of being just that damn big. This is probably the main reason I must write.

I must write.

So now I start over. Start writing again. In fifteen days, I will again undergo another major surgery. This Abdominoplasty is the next to last step in my personal metamorphosis. That change from a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, a beautiful butterfly searching for its rose. I know, Jim a butterfly? I don’t have a better example. Give me one please. Something in nature that changes from one form to an incredible other form? I am sure there is one, one example. I just don’t know what it is. But I really want to be that butterfly. Amazing all as it sits there, emerged from that shell of a cocoon, letting its wings absorb the energy from the sun in preparation to fly. Then lifting off. The color in its wings, red and blue. Am I ready for this? The metamorphosis? This final change in my person? My body? I am looking forward to the scars. The forever reminder of where I was, and where I have progressed to, where I have been.

I must write this story.

This surgery will be much more painful. The last was six little holes. SWMBO tells me this will be bad. Damn, she watches way too many medical shows. She knows how long the recovery will take, talks about the number of drains, the two months or more of swelling. She knows just too much. But I have to have this. It is a need now, not just a want. I need this. Need the pain. I need this to remember. I need this to grow. The intoxication is still here. People that I have not seen in a long time are still amazed. But, the occasions of amazement are farther apart and fewer now. I need this pain to remember. Remember that intoxication that I call life. That intoxication will be rekindled, through this pain. Through this next to last change. So again, I must write. Let you experience my thoughts, my desires, experience this change with me. I will photograph, chronicle and share. I covet your thoughts and prayers as I go through this. Just 15 days away. Again putting my life in the hands of Surgeons, Anesthesiologists and Nurses. I will write it all. You will experience it all. I will hold nothing back. SWMBO likes that sometimes, and doesn’t other times. But you will hear about all of it. All of it. The pain, the tears, the successes and failures. For this reason I write.

I must.