"I had more fun as the school mascot than as a cheerleader."
I used to love being a cheerleader in high school — until my senior year, when I quit the team. I was tired of kids yelling nasty comments at me during cheer routines because of my weight, which fluctuated between 170 and 200 pounds, and it was embarrassing to have to special-order a size 18 uniform. I became the school mascot instead, and hiding in the lion costume was such a relief after all the public ridicule. I constantly measured myself against other people, and though I don't remember asking them to, my friends did the same: They would tell me who I was fatter than and who I wasn't as big as. They made me feel so self-conscious; even when I was just hanging out with them, I felt anxious and isolated. I had never been an overeater as a child, but now food was my only comfort. It totally owned me: I'd eat freely, then feel guilty after, and gain more weight. Every once in a while, I'd try to diet, but the scale never moved.

"I failed a class because I was too self-conscious to go."
When I got to college, I felt like every girl there was a size 2. Just being in school while obese was hard: I failed a class because I was too self-conscious even to go. I played trumpet in the school band, and when we flew to away games, I was mortified to see my hips oozing over onto the seat next to me. I tried Weight Watchers, the South Beach Diet, the cabbage soup diet, diet pills, everything. I'd lose maybe 5 pounds — a drop in the bucket.

By the time I was 20, I had developed an eating disorder. For two years, I ate only half of a bagel or a PowerBar a day and made it down to a size 14. I stopped after a guy I was dating sat me down and convinced me I was being dumb. Then he slept with my roommate. Again, I turned to food for comfort. By senior year, I was 250 pounds — the biggest I had ever been.

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After graduation, I got my first job, and shared an office with someone who'd had gastric bypass surgery. When I met her, I thought, She's beautiful. I could never look like her. But then she told me her story. So I went to an information session where a surgeon explained the three types of weight-loss surgery. Afterward, I felt optimistic. If this worked, I wouldn't ever have to worry about fitting into a seat. I could finally have a normal life.

Next, I was checked out by a cardiologist, a pulmonologist, and a psychiatrist; I also went to nutrition seminars. This gave me time to decide if surgery was what I really wanted. I still wasn't sure. I started a journal of things I hated about being fat — like those looks at the gym that said, "Why are you here?" Finally, I decided surgery was the only way to lose a significant amount of weight and keep it off. I chose gastric bypass because with other procedures (like stomach stapling or lap band) I'd still be able to eat sugary, high-fat foods with no consequences. I needed to make a bigger change. But I was scared. I scheduled the appointment, then felt like I was going to throw up. I'd always wanted to be skinny, but to dream it is one thing. To live it is different.