dreams of little black dresses

I went to see my doctor yesterday morning to talk about the surgery.  I was nervous while she was asking me all these questions because a) she’s super skinny (and totally cute) and b) I didn’t want to get any of the questions wrong.  Yes, wrong.  I’m sure they’re looking for certain things, and I’m a little nervous about that.  I meet the requirements in BMI, but without other health problems I’ve been afraid they’d turn me away.

So I’m sitting on that damn table, don’t know why I didn’t move to the chair, but I didn’t, and all I can think about is this and this and thiiiiis.  Ok, so I just threw the last, and very yummy, one in for fun, but the other 2 were really running through my mind.  I had to make sure that she wouldn’t turn me away.  For some reason that’s been my fear.  Shit, I’ve never wanted anyone to confirm my fatness this much in my life.  I answered carefully, and as it turns out, honestly.  It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected and she was very sensitive to the whole thing, which I appreciated.  I’m a warm

I left the office 30 minutes later with 2 vials less blood in my body and the phone numbers for 2 surgeons in my hand.  I can’t tell you how stupid I was about making sure I didn’t lose that piece of paper.  I called the first one as soon as I got to the car and found out that I would have to wait to schedule my appointment until after the first of the year because my insurance is changing.  Stupid Jesiis, Inc.  They’ve said that the coverage is identical, or better, and nothing has been taken away, so I shouldn’t have a problem.  I was just hoping to get the ball rolling.  I know these things can take awhile.

I can’t seem to stop imagining how I will look/feel after the surgery.  I never thought something could consume my thoughts so much, but I really think about it all the time.  When I walk by a mirror, or window, I find myself imagining how I think everything will look, what I’ll be able to wear, how much different I will feel, how much nicer people will be.  I know I’m supposed to be saying it’s all about my health, but that’d be a fucking lie.  Sure, I don’t want to develop serious health problems or die, but those other things are high on the list, too.

In other news, prof. adorable has lost all appeal as I find today that he STILL does not know my name.  What the hell ever.  I don’t think he even has a clue, and there are only like 19 people in the class.  And he knows all of their names.  I’m starting to think he must just be playing hard to get.