UBM - Where've ya been?

Hi friends!  It's been a hot minute since I’ve had my fingers on the keyboard, and for that, I must tip my hat in apology.  Now, you might be thinking I've been off conquering the business world, but alas, that's not quite the case. Instead, I’ve immersed myself on content creation and community cultivation. And while I’m not ready to go public (stock market talk), I'm thrilled to share that 350 wonderful souls have decided to join me on this journey and I’ve teed up the site for my next social move. (more to come).

Speaking of journeys, let's talk about the one that's had me ditching soda, as well as coping and indulgent vices like alcohol, and fried yummies for a whopping 265 days. Yes, you read that correctly – 265 days of pure, unadulterated commitment.  And while I've indulged in the occasional sweet treat (because what's life without a little sugar?), I stand before you, 45 pounds lighter.  That’s right, there is a lesser gravitational pull on the scale which has me sailing past my post-gastric surgery weight from 2010 and am now cruising back to my collegiate days with my high school graduation weight on the horizon. 

Now, the plot thickens as I eagerly anticipate my consultation with Dr. Sedrak, the first gatekeeper to my body transformation – affectionately dubbed “the plastics”. For those not in the know, that's a whimsical reference to a tummy tuck and a little boost upstairs, if you catch my drift.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed and my expectations in check, hoping that the insurance gods will rubber-stamp their approval upon my endeavors.

It's a wild thought, isn't it? To consider a reality where the body you've known for so long is transformed into something entirely different. It's not just about the quest for clothes that will embrace this new form but also the curiosity about the changes from within. Will there be a newfound "tightness"? A reduction in the aches that often accompany us through life? Perhaps a sense of lightness, or even a more statuesque posture, unburdened by gravity's relentless pull?  Yet, the physical metamorphosis is only one facet of the experience. The mental and emotional landscapes are equally, if not more, compelling.  Will I "like" myself more?  

I recall an impactful conversation with Jerrod, a friend well-acquainted with plastics.  He spoke of his satisfaction with the outcomes, yet he didn't shy away from voicing a caveat: there is a known addictive nature to cosmetic enhancements.  Jerrod insisted that the dependency doesn't originate from an affection for the surgical blade or risk of growing addiction to medication (one would assume); it stems from an altered self-image. Following the procedure, individuals often engage in meticulous self-scrutiny, obsessing over every minute imperfection—each line, indentation, bulge, and sag.  Jerrod's caution resonated with me as I assured him of my resolve to limit my aesthetic endeavors to these two specific procedures. However, his insights now echo in my mind, painting a picture of a potential future. It's a precarious descent where initial contentment might spiral into a relentless pursuit of an elusive ideal.  But even as I type this, I’m haunted by his word of caution knowing how overwhelmingly burdened I've been by my body dysmorphia as each inch is lost.  What do I do?

Walking into this next chapter in my journey, I remind myself that this journey is not just about the physical transformation but also about navigating the psychological implications that accompany such changes. The allure of perfection can be enticing, but it's the acceptance of our unique beauty that truly defines us.   As I stand at the crossroads of change, I find myself looking back on the person I once was with a mix of nostalgia and disbelief. There was a time when confidence was my silent partner, accompanying me through the days with an unwavering presence. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing the good parts, the strengths that made me, me. My arms, for instance, never seemed to be a source of concern.  Yet, life has a way of testing our foundations, shaking the very ground we stand on. This past year has been nothing short of a seismic shift in my self-perception. The journey has been awkward, filled with moments of self-documentation and observation that have often left me more critical than appreciative of my progress. Now, when I look at my arms, I see a wobble that wasn't there before, and my gaze quickly shifts to find new areas to scrutinize.  It's a sad realization, this shift from celebration to critique. My body has changed, and with it, the shape of my self-image. The struggle to embrace this new form is real and far from easy. Amidst this internal battle, a fear lurks in the shadows—the fear that even after successful surgeries, satisfaction will remain elusive, and the words of doubt, like those from Jerrod, will prove to be true.

But I refuse to let fear dictate my path. It's time to gamble, to bet on myself and the resilience that has carried me this far. The end of May marks not just a date on the calendar, but a milestone in this journey of transformation.  Time to kick therapy up a notch.  

In the spirit of transparency and to bridge the gap since my last update, I'm sharing some progress pictures. They serve as reminders of where I've been and where I'm headed. To those who find themselves on similar paths, remember to be gentle with yourself. The road to self-acceptance is seldom straight, but every step, every stumble, is a part of the story we're writing for ourselves.

With anticipation and a heart full of hope - MLB