My Bariatric Year: Bariatric Series, #2

By Tim Hatch

My Bariatric Year is an insider's look at author Tim Hatch's weight-loss surgery. With entries dealing with tough topics like self-image and self-evaluation, this is a fascinating look at coping, reflection, and relearning the process of living.

Part Two begins a discussion about body parts, and as Tim says, "I'm gonna be as tactful as possible, but if the point of all this is to chronicle the things I'm going through, then it's going to have to veer away from polite dinner table conversation." Don't worry, he maintains his sense of humor and decorum with only a few poop jokes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pelekinesis
• Release date: Apr 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949790344

Book preview

My Bariatric Year

Pt. 2

* * *

Tim Hatch

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www.pelekinesis.com

My Bariatric Year by Tim Hatch

Part 2

ISBN: 978-1-949790-34-4 (ebook)

Copyright © 2020 Tim Hatch

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.

Layout and book design by Mark Givens

Special thanks to Robert W. Zailo for permission to reprint the text message exchanges.

First Pelekinesis Printing 2020

For information:

Pelekinesis, 112 Harvard Ave #65, Claremont, CA 91711 USA

For Annette

Introduction

Prior to having bariatric surgery, I had to take several classes during which they told us to be careful who we talked about bariatric surgery with because we were, for sure, going to encounter negative responses from the people we love. And truth be told, I did encounter a few, but they were mostly thoughtless words, heavily informed by ignorance. For the most part, I had nothing but supportive responses from the people who matter most to me.

That said, I was still super careful who I shared this information with, especially when it came to the people I work with. The week before I had my surgery, I was lying to people I work with—people I like and respect—and it felt wrong, but it also felt safe. Anyone who has considered weight loss surgery understands shame. Anyone who is overweight to the point of endangering their health understands shame. I think on some level I was feeling shame at having to have the surgery. It’s obviously a good thing to make a positive change, but I’m almost certain I was feeling shame over having gotten to the point where the change was necessary.

When I finally woke up from the surgery (it took some time, I was really out of it) I had clarity like you wouldn’t believe. I won’t bore you with every single revelation, but above all else, these two words kept coming back into my head: Fuck shame.

On the third day of my recovery, my second day back home, I got on my phone, found a thing I’d written a few years earlier, deleted all the stupid parts, and started writing the first entry in this book. It probably took an hour or so (writing on the phone is slow for me because I’m not 13), and when I was finished, I published it to my website, posted a link to my social media accounts, and called it a day. That was my whole day, everything else was sleeping and drinking small sips of Hydrocodone.

The response I received to opening myself up like that was 100% positive, which was wonderful, but not entirely unexpected. What did surprise me was the incredibly personal responses I got—from people I’d known forever to people I didn’t know that well at all. I was told by several people that journaling was an excellent idea, and that it would help me be successful in my journey (not a fan of that word). Well, journaling was going to happen anyway, but after the response I got, I really wanted to keep going with it, and I