Learning to live with a body that's always negotiating
Roots, rituals, and early messages
I was born and raised in Maryland, but my family’s roots are Middle Eastern, where food anchors holidays, gatherings, and everyday life. Many of us carry extra weight, constantly joking about our similar body type. At family gatherings, food and weight were constant topics of conversation, and commenting on other people’s bodies was normal—almost expected.
A cycle I didn't see
I didn’t think that I was living with obesity growing up. There were times when I felt slightly bigger than other kids, but that real awareness came later, in my 20s, after marriage, divorce, quitting smoking, and the slow accumulation of stress.
I tried every diet I could find — even cabbage soup. I’d lose weight, feel hopeful, then regain it. Each cycle convinced me I was the failure, not the approach.
The surgery that changed everything
In 2018, I had bariatric surgery — not by choice, but because severe acid reflux and a hernia left few options. Repairing the hernia without addressing my weight meant it would likely return.
I started with a gastric sleeve, then revised to a gastric bypass after complications. I lost 140 pounds. I wasn’t at my ideal weight, but I could cross my legs, sit in a booth, and rollerblade with my niece. Those non-scale victories mattered most.
Cancer and what remained
In 2023, I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma — an incurable blood cancer. Chemo. Hair loss. A stem cell transplant. Overnight menopause. They call surviving a transplant a “rebirth,” so I turned 50 and one year old at the same time.
But even in remission, cancer wasn’t my daily battle.
Obesity was.
The number catch up
At monthly oncology visits, the scale kept climbing. I joked that cancer might help me lose weight, but it didn’t land. Eventually, I said it plainly: “My weight… I’m 40 pounds higher.” My oncologist explained that metabolic syndrome is common after a transplant.
I left wishing I’d known it was a side effect.
The weight people don't see
Obesity rarely exists alone. It brings chronic pain, GI issues, fatigue, and constant mental noise — clothes that don’t fit, limited options, endless self-questioning. Therapy helps, but the thoughts persist.
So does bias: gowns that won’t close, unstable exam tables, a nurse searching for a larger cuff. An ophthalmologist once suggested Weight Watchers after an eye exam, without context. I left embarrassed and doubting myself, not the care.
Worse still is knowing that a heavier weight worsens my cancer prognosis — an exhausting truth to carry.
Finding solid ground
Understanding obesity as a disease, not a personal failure, changed everything. Support from therapy, friends, and groups like the Obesity Action Coalition helped me stop blaming myself and reframe progress.
Obesity isn’t about willpower. It’s multi-faceted, misunderstood and too often met with shame.
My nieces and nephews remind me why compassion matters — I want their generation to inherit less shame than mine did.
Understanding obesity as a disease, not a personal failure, changed everything.
Still moving forward
Obesity isn’t something you finish; it’s something you manage. Multiple surgeries and bowel obstructions have left me with a complex GI system, so progress means layering support and adapting as my body changes. It isn’t linear. But I’m still moving forward.
The patient story shared solely reflects the unique, personal experience of that individual patient. Nothing in this story constitutes medical advice, nor should it be interpreted as treatment recommendation. Individual patient experiences and outcomes may vary and are not representative of typical results. Zealand Pharma makes no representations regarding the success or failure of any treatment, therapy or medical intervention. Please consult your healthcare professional regarding your medical decisions.
