Anne was 43 when she had bariatric surgery. She had no choice.
Her scale was nearing 600 pounds, and it was either surgery, or a long slow decent into death, with every moment until then a disappointment that life had turned out that way for her.
In Annes’ life everyone spoke to her in disapproving tones. And if it wasn’t the words, it was the stares, the pointed finger from across the street, the quickly dropped eyes when she passed close to anyone at the store.
Thus, at a certain point, weight loss surgery is the only way to control weight – it is the only way to save a life. But saving dreams? …Saving dreams is not something that surgery is very good at.