The Road to Plastics - My "Why"

T-minus 37 Days...

11 years ago, when I had bariatric surgery, I never considered plastics at any time. TBH, I didn't think the surgery was going to work for me and lose the weight, let alone have any excess skin to remove. I remember asking the bariatric surgeon about loose skin and his response was "Well then that would be a good problem because it meant that it worked." And that was that.

He was right. Why would I care about lose skin if it meant that I was finally healthy and not on my way to being a statistic? Nah, I ain't gonna care about plastics because that's not important.

I spent about 7 years post bariatric surgery, living my life without much of an audience or a social media presence. I posted before and after pics, or inspirational stuff but I wasn't really part of any online communities for bariatric or weight loss. I just did my own thing and documented my journey in pictures and blogs. I didn't have much to compare my success to, other than my recent pasts at any given time. So I was always pretty happy with my progress and where I was because I was constantly being better than yesterday and that was all that mattered.

When I got to where the surgery left me off at, 173lbs, I stayed that way for a long while. I was happy with how I looked, I had so much energy, there was new life breathed into me and I was so elated.

There was only one thing that bugged me on a daily basis.

My arms. The damn low hanging bat wings.

I didn't care about my jiggly thighs or the skin around my waist, because I had a fucking waist for the first time in my life.

I could go to an event and wear a dress with some spanks and a lifting bra and no one ever knew I had weight loss surgery or had lost 175lbs. I had a thick curvy hourglass and I owned it and I felt confident. Until I would raise my arm and then the rest of the arm would jiggle in the delays of gravity.

When you are over 350lbs, you are overweight everywhere. When you lose half of your entire self, you now havesome isolated parts of your body that are noticeably sagging or loose. My arms were always big but the fat filled them out. Now the air has been let of of them and they just hang there.

For years, I could hide my skin to the outside world and live in a body that was no longer obese. Over time, I no longer even thought of myself as a bariatric person. I was just Sheri. I was never going back to the version I used to be.

But every day, I was reminded everytime I looked in the mirror of who I used to be. The arms were a constant reminder of the failures to myself for decades and I wished that one day I could have that fixed and not be so insecure. I could hide the rest of it, but you can't hide the arms. Well I guess you can, if you live forever in long sleeves, which is not recommended in 100 degree heats in the summer.

Even at 350 pounds, I always wore tank tops because my boobs were so big that t-shirts felt suffocating or often times worse, I looked like a linebacker in them.

It didn't bother me much back then, cuz like i said, I was fat everywhere and the idea of ever being smaller never seemed tangibly possible so I never thought about my arms because I was more insecure about being seen by anyone at my size, or fitting into chairs, or bathrooms, or fitting into crowds in general. The arms were never on the radar.

Arms are not a medical necessity so no insurance would cover it so it was wanting to save money but then, ya know, life be lifing.

Family deaths, Nervous Breakdowns, Marital separations, pandemics, bankruptcies, life changing moves and depression and you find yourself 11 years post op with the same pipe dream. and no step closer to getting there..

Weight has fluctuated in 10 years, up 50 pounds, down 50 pounds, up 20 pounds, down 10 pounds, up 30 pounds and you stop trying to fix the scale when you are just trying to get through each day mentally.

And then arms stare at you every day. Reminding you of the failures like I said, and then the wins in the last decade, having something to compare your reflection to now, the ups and downs and the real story in between those before and after pictures you used to post on social media.

So I kept manifesting that I could finally bookend the bariatric journey and finally get my arms done. After many roadblocks, bullshit and wanting to give up at one point, I kept pressing on, visualizing the surgery I have dreamed of for a decade now.

December 16th, 2025.

11 years, 2 months and 27 days after waking up from Gastric Sleeve, I will be waking up from a Brachiaplasty.

It is finally almost here, in 37 days from now.

There is so much that has been going through my head for the last few months, let alone the last 2 years that will likely be spread into other posts.

But I am ready for this new chapter to come to fruition. Nervous, scared, excited, and everything in between but I am ready.

Everyone has their own reasons for plastic surgery. Some are medically necessary. Some are mental health necessary. Some are pure vanity.

This may seem to some as pure vanity to some, but for me, it's more than that. Its is releasing the reminders of the past and being able to move forward. To regain a new form of confidence. To better myself and celebrate how far I have come in this journey overall and most importantly I deserve this and want this for only myself.

Will it fix all my mental health problems? God no, LOL. But in fairness, this is not supposed to. I have been working on my mental health while feeling the feels and the insecurities and the overall fears of life. I am working through 44 years of internal issues and demons on my own because I know for me, thinking this surgery will "fix me" or "heal me" is an unrealistic pipe dream. That's not what this is about.

This is about finishing what I started, putting in the work and showing my reflection on the outside what I once felt like on the inside. I want this to be a reflection of my decade long resilience, strength and refusal to live in the past. I don't want to joke about flapping my arms around to desinations. I am ready to bicep punch my way to destinations.

T-minus 37 days. This is insanity to me.

Tomorrow is 5 weeks before and I have put togther a plan of action for mental health, physical health, emotional health and spirutual health. We are healing ourselves from all angles, from the inside out and prioritizing myself for the first time in my life.

This is my time now.

Namaste Bishes.