Am I supposed to write everyday?

Why am I so obsessed with blog rules that do or so not exist?

Anywho, I had dinner with CMB and KGB this evening. I really enjoy and love them. I feel that I can be vulnerable and real with them. We also have good food all the time, which I absolutely adore.

I want CMB to be my advocate for my surgery, but I was hesitant to ask because I feel that she doesn't completely embrace my decision. She mentioned tonight, however, that if I couldn't find anyone else to call her. Should I? I suppose that I should just ask her and see what happens.

We talked tonight about live horror stories regarding people in the hospital or in emergency rooms. I suppose I should be dissuaded from having an optional surgery given some of the issues people experience in hospitals. I'm not dissuaded, though. I want the surgery and I want it as soon as possible. I want a new birthday. A new life.

SJ and I were talking about what a new life for me looks like. I have no answer. I think that it emanates from a feeling, which I don't have right now. I believe that I'll have it when I'm thinner. Right now I feel that everything revolves around my weight. I don't know what life looks like as a slim person. I don't know exactly what I expect. I just expect to feel different. And that by feeling different I'll have a different life experience.

I hope that it's a life filled with companionship, love, laughter, fashion, health, movement, travel, sex, entertainment, good food, good drink and good choices. I hope that it's a life that's more complete than the one I have now. One that's more expressive and interactive and fun and meaningful.

Probably a lot, too much, actually, to hang on a lower weight.

Speaking of a lower weight, it's been a month since I've been to my fat center and I haven't lost a pound. I suspect I've gained. I don't want to face the nutritionist again. I felt judged and apologetic and I don't want to feel that way again. I suppose the larger question is why can't I lose a pound? Am I insane? Am I just a failure? Am I hopeless? Will surgery work for me? Do I have a right to try after having failed so many times? I don't know. The whole thing makes me sad.

I shall face the nutritionist and the scale and while I may not be victorious, I can at least not be pathetic.