September 28th 2024.
Ever since I underwent a weight loss surgery nine years ago, I have regretted it deeply. It all started when I was watching an episode of "Fat Friends" and heard Norma Patterson mention getting her stomach stapled. I was immediately intrigued and paused the show. Could this be the solution to all of my weight struggles? I couldn't believe there was a way for me to lose weight and actually keep it off for good. After doing a quick Google search, I discovered that there were actually three different types of weight loss surgery available. I was overjoyed at the thought of finally being able to achieve my dream body.
Out of the three options, gastric band surgery seemed like the most sensible choice. It involved placing an adjustable band around the top part of the stomach, making it difficult to overeat. Being an impulsive person, I wasted no time in researching everything I could about the procedure. However, I didn't qualify for the surgery through the NHS and the waiting list was four years long. So, I made the decision to go private and paid a total of £12,000 for the surgery. I was 32 years old at the time.
Although I have lost eight stone since the surgery, I often find myself regretting the decision I made nine years ago. Looking back, I realize that my unhealthy relationship with food began when I was just eight years old. Starting school was a difficult transition for me and I constantly felt out of place. This is when food became my best friend.
I can vividly remember the moment that changed everything for me. It was in January 1991, when war broke out in my home country of Somalia. My family and I had to flee, leaving behind everything we knew. We walked for days, often going without proper food or water. When we finally reached a refugee camp in Ethiopia, we were starving. The simple bread and water we received felt like a luxury after the traumatic events we had just experienced. And so, I turned to food for comfort once again.
Eventually, we were rescued by the Red Cross and brought to the UK seeking asylum. I will never forget the first meal I had here: fish and chips from a local chippie. The taste of the salty chips and crispy batter blew my mind and provided comfort during a time of great uncertainty in my life. Food became my coping mechanism and my relationship with it only became more unhealthy as I grew older.
Even though I was eating at home, it was never enough to satisfy my hunger. I would sneak packets of crisps into my pockets and eat them on my way to and from school. This caused me to gain weight quickly, but in Somalia, having a bit of fat was seen as a sign of success. However, once I started secondary school in the UK, I began to feel shame around my size and weight. It didn't help that everyone else around me was obsessed with losing weight. My classmates talked about diets constantly and I felt pressure to do the same.
I started trying out different diets, but none of them ever worked for me. I would starve myself or only drink shakes for weeks at a time. I even went through a phase where I only ate cucumbers for two weeks straight. Unsurprisingly, these extreme diets never stuck and were always followed by binge-eating sessions. My parents never seemed to notice what was happening with me, as they had seven other children to take care of. I was left to deal with my disordered eating on my own.
By the time I reached early adulthood, my unhealthy relationship with food was deeply ingrained in me. I hated my body and even fantasized about getting rid of my stomach in order to have a flat tummy. It was during this time that I made the impulsive decision to undergo weight loss surgery. Looking back, I wish I had never gone through with it. It was a waste of time and money, and I realize now that the root of my issues with food go much deeper than just my weight.
Looking back on my life, I have come to regret a decision I made nine years ago. It all started one evening while I was watching a show called "Fat Friends." One of the characters, Norma Patterson, mentioned getting her stomach stapled as a way to lose weight. I immediately hit pause and my mind started racing. Could this be the solution to all my prayers? Was there finally a way for me to lose weight and keep it off for good? A quick Google search confirmed that there were in fact three different types of weight loss surgery available. I was overjoyed at the thought of finally achieving my dream body.
Out of the three options, gastric band surgery seemed to be the most sensible choice. As someone who tends to act impulsively, I wasted no time in researching everything I could about it. Unfortunately, I didn't quite qualify for the surgery through the NHS and the waitlist was four years long. So, I made the decision to go private and paid a whopping £12,000 for the procedure. At the time, I was 32 years old and eager to see the results.
It's been nine years since I went through with the surgery and although I've lost eight stone, I can't help but wish I had never done it. It feels like a waste of my money and time. Looking back, I realize that my unhealthy relationship with food started when I was just eight years old. As a child, I always felt like I didn't fit in, especially when I started school. Food became my comfort and my best friend.
I can remember the exact moment when my unhealthy relationship with food began. It was January 1991 and my world was turned upside down overnight. I woke up to the sound of sirens and bombs falling in my home country of Somalia. War had broken out and my family had to flee. We walked for days on end, often without food or water. By the time we reached a refugee camp in Ethiopia, we were starving. The little bread and water we managed to get felt like a luxury and brought some comfort after such a traumatic experience. This is when my comfort eating began.
Shortly after, we were rescued by the Red Cross and brought to the UK seeking asylum. I'll never forget the first meal I had here: fish and chips. The taste of the salty chips and crispy batter from that East London chippie blew my mind. It provided me with a sense of comfort in this new and unfamiliar place. Food became my solace and my way of coping with the strangeness of my circumstances.
As I started school, I continued to feel out of place and turned to food for comfort. But even though I was eating at home, it was never enough to satisfy my hunger. I would sneak packets of crisps into my pockets and eat them on my way to and from school. I quickly gained weight, but in Somalia, being a bit overweight was seen as a sign of prosperity. However, as I entered secondary school, I started to feel ashamed of my size and weight. This was only made worse by the fact that everyone around me was obsessed with losing weight. My classmates would constantly talk about diets and I started to do the same.
I tried every extreme diet out there, from living off shakes to starving myself completely. I even spent two weeks eating nothing but cucumber. Unsurprisingly, none of these diets ever stuck and were usually followed by weeks of bingeing. My parents never seemed to notice what was happening with me. Being the oldest of seven children, they had bigger things to worry about and I was left to deal with my issues on my own.
By the time I reached early adulthood, disordered eating had become deeply ingrained in me. I despised my body and would often daydream about cutting off my stomach just to have a flat tummy. It was a constant battle and I wish I had sought help instead of turning to a quick fix solution like weight loss surgery. I have come to realize that true happiness and self-acceptance cannot be achieved through external means, but rather through self-love and embracing our imperfections.
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