I regret having bariatric surgery

TRIGGER WARNING: bariatric surgery, complications mirroring eating disorder behaviors, body dysmorphia

On May 10th, 2010 — at 19 years old, I underwent bariatric weight loss surgery.

As we are exiting the acceptance of body positivity and cycling through the Ozempic Era with a return to the 90’s body ideals of heroine chic —

I am feeling burdened to write about my bariatric surgery from the perspective of the after, and many years later.

I always feel the need to state and share that this is my personal experience. No two experiences are alike. If you are post bariatric and you believe that your decision was the right decision for you, this probably won’t be the episode for you.

If you read or listen to this episode, and it causes unrest about whether or not you “should” have surgery – I need you to know something

Your autonomy to change your body is still 100% yours.

This is my experience and may not be yours.

But I still encourage you to sit in the discomfort of hearing another side — a side you probably aren’t used to hearing.

Ragen Chastain, Board Certified Patient Advocate, researcher + author of the substack Weight and Healthcare says that there are three categories of people who talk about their bariatric experience.

The Happy Group.

The UnHappy Group.

And the Dead Group.

Stereotypically we only hear from the Happy Group.

As I shared in an “what no one tells you when the dress doesn’t fit”

I decided to have bariatric surgery after many failed attempts to successfully lose weight the old fashioned way.

Retrospectively, here are things that are important to note.

I craved that attention.

I yearned to be told how proud people would be for how hard I worked.

Because despite my hardest efforts — I never seemed to be able to sustain any significant amount of weight loss.

I wanted the success of weight loss because:

• I wanted to be able to buy and wear cute clothes.

• I wanted the attention of men.

• I wanted people to praise me and be impressed by me because of my body.

I learned very quickly how uncouth it was to utter these things aloud.

I also adapted to what language was permissive.

But even if any of these were actually true— it really came secondary to wanting to no longer to hate what I saw in the mirror.

I ordered a “last meal” that I swore I’d never let myself eat again after the surgery.

I stood in a full length mirror and looked at my naked body for the first time in a long time.

I was hoping this would be the last time I had to look at this hideous thing.

I knew what I was giving up.

I knew that my food intake would be restricted. That I probably wouldn’t be able to eat many of the foods I loved. But I was willing to forsake food at the promise of thinness.

As I stared at my naked body, the cellulite, the softness, the parts that sagged and jiggled and brought me so much shame.

I had a strange but intrusive thought:

This isn’t going to work.

Baffled by this notion, I was able to reorient thinking: This HAS to work. And it’s going to because I know how I will try. There is NOTHING I can’t put my mind to.

In 2026, as I reflect on my 19 year old prophetic mind, I realize what my subconscious was trying to tell me back then.

I remember the yearning in wanting my body to match the expectation I had in my mind.

And when it didn’t, I would be devastated.

The body dysmorphia of seeing myself as a smaller version in my mind only to not have it match what I saw in the mirror was soul crushing.

I couldn’t understand how my body was shrinking, but the visceral hatred stayed the same.

I finally got the praise and adoration for my body — but it didn’t feel as rewarding as I hoped. Instead I felt like a spectacle being held under a microscope, waiting for them to find the flaw they missed and rescind their praise. It unlocked a new fear— that I could never let myself regain weight.

I remember asking someone who had surgery before me when the self esteem shit would improve… and they said,

 “Unfortunately, there is no surgery for that. That work is done in your mind”.

I think back to nineteen year old Bri and I just wish I could hug her.

She was so lost + was so desperately trying to find herself.

Her self esteem was so low, her only hope was anchored in the belief that if she could just lose the weight, she wouldn’t hate herself so much.

I believed that if I could shed the fat suit I was imprisoned in, everything would change.

Everyone else would see my charismatic personality this body cavity holds.

A man would desire me so much he would love me, but not just because of my body.

I would feel confident and courage.

And be able to find and wear clothes that I find beautiful and loved.

That I’d be able to look in the mirror at my naked body and love what I saw.

That I could be proud of my hard work.

And that THEN I could go on to the things I want to do.

When I lose the weight—

• Then I could pursue a career in theater or whatever else I wanted

• I could go out on dates and wear cute clothes

• But nearly a year into the surgery, and I had only lost a quarter of the weight I was promised no matter how much effort I gave it.

I had given up my autonomy around food, to eat with the risk of feeling sick, to barely lose weight and not feel any more confident then I started.

I felt lied to.

The surgery I had was the lap band – I’m not even sure they do this one anymore. It was a new surgery at the time and considered less invasive then the RNY.

In 2010, research supported that Lap band surgery could help people lose up to 50% of their “excess” weight.

I honestly can’t even remember exactly what I weighed. But whatever it was, it was over that imaginary line I had drawn in the sand of “how much weight was too much”. That number I deemed irredeemable that once you cross the threshold, there becomes another number that is “just too much”.

One of the complications I experienced with my bariatric surgery was I would feel like food was lodged in my chest, creating a burning sensation that often cued me to try and force myself to throw up. [As an eating disorder therapist, the irony of my medically sanctioned procedure that produces effects that mimic that of an eating disorder is a painful reality.]

Not being able to eat without the risk of excruciating pain, falling into a deeper depression as the hatred for my body only intensified, all the while trying to masquerade as a successful and well adjusted college student made life even bleaker.

• I still wasn’t dating (because of course, I felt hideous, other men had to think so to)

• I still wasn’t wearing cute clothes (because I was trying to hide my body and didn’t feel worthy of buying cute clothes)

• I still wasn’t pursuing the activities I wanted to — only the ones I believed would help me secure the smaller body I desperately needed.

• I stood on the scale every chance I could, just to make sure the number didn’t go up. That became a new fear every time I was praised for that smaller body. I better not regain this…everyone will notice when I do…

But then the scale stopped going down. And somehow, it was my fault. That “the surgery was a tool, not a magic wand”. That– even though I had cut out a significant amount of food, there were probably still foods I was eating stalling my weight loss. Or the movements I was doing were not conducive for weight loss.

And I believed them.

I was the failure, not the “tool”. Once again, I fucked this up. And the hope of my lifesaving body kept slipping further and further out of my grip.

Coming back to the year 2026, my heart is so burdened for the younger version of myself who made the best decision she could with the information she had at the time.

But I am also so burdened for the people in 2026 who still carry the weight of this albatross as their life’s mission to cure.

In 2010 – the lap band weight loss surgery was the second most popular weight loss surgery option. The research supported that people would lose up to 50% of their “excess weight” within the first few years.

In 2026 – the lap band weight loss surgery is practically obsolete. Research has documented that more than 50% of original band users have the band removed due to complications, band erosion, impact on quality of life + not losing weight.

I’ve hitched my cart to too many wagons that promised, “we’ve finally solved it”. But all the while those selling me the wagons were only invested in solving the problem for me for the day — not for the rest of my life.

And when the wagon failed, it was clearly user error.

They also failed to study the long term consequences that come from this wagon.

• What will the research about GLP1s for weight loss say in 16 years?

• What will the long term health impacts be?

• How long will the weight loss be sustainable?

I was warned that if I eat too quickly food might get stuck and I may have to throw up in order to release it.

I was warned I could regain weight through liquids.

I was told that I would have the surgery laparoscopically, but the only way to remove it was through open surgery, leaving me with a 3” scare across my abdomen.

I was never told that there was a possibility that the surgery wouldn’t work (unless of course I did something wrong). I was never told that 50% of people would end up getting theirs removed (of course, because they didn’t know yet) But despite not knowing, they had no problem performing this surgery on a nineteen year old girl. In the name of health, of course.

I didn’t know that I would develop gastroparesis– which impacts my ability to digest food properly. I spent the better part of a decade in the bathroom with medical professionals puzzled and chalking my symptoms to anxiety, IBS, or of course— my BMI.

When I talk openly about my disdain for my bariatric surgery, many people who have had the surgery become defensive.

They say, “I’m feeling great!” or “Well all my lab values improved” etc.

Mine did too, at first.

I am several years down the road you’re traveling.

And maybe they know a lot more than the did back then.

But I was never even offered another perspective.

My bariatric experience is just as valid as yours. And my experience doesn’t invalidate yours.

I just believe people deserve to hear both sides of the experience.

And so often, so many of us who are in the Unhappy Group feel so much shame for “failing”, we never talk about our experience.

I always believed that shame would brand me like a scarlet letter until I finally succeeded, till I finally lost weight.

I’m several pounds away from that original fear number I didn’t want to weigh back in 2010.

I am managing my gastroparesisas well as other my other medical concerns that went untreated for years.

This doesn’t guarantee me perfect lab work or a painless body.

But I go to my doctors regularly, consistently collaborate with them on how to continue to prioritize my health.

But it should be noted that my doctors have agreed to not bring up weight loss or cutting out foods as a response to my lab work. I don’t get a lecture before being heard and for the first time in my entire life, I feel believed when I share my experience.

I no longer battle around “what do I eat” and instead wholly trust myself to make the right decisions for my body. Sometimes, I get it wrong (ie, I’m still hungry, too full, and get stomach aches). But this isn’t a moral failing, just really cool information that allows me to continue to trust my body for the next meal. Having ADHD sometimes makes decision making harder, but I have learned to work with the brain I have, instead of trying to conform to the systems assigned to me.

Healing my relationship to food means I can go through a fast food drive-through without feeling like a criminal. Or smell a baked cookie wafting in the bakery and decide to honor the craving of “ooo that sounds good”. It also means I think about what foods would be kindest to eat to help me function throughout the day – but it is no longer about succeeding or failing. It has become as innocuous as picking what book I’m in the mood for or what tv show I wanna watch right now.

For years I used movement as a way to manipulate my body size. Then I spent more years trying to motivate myself to move my body through external reward (I legit made a sticker chart one year…) I used exercise to manage anxiety that really needed medication. And I bypassed years of burnout by forcing my body to move when it was begging me for rest.

This week — I didn’t do any formal workout. The week simply didn’t permit for it plus I was feeling unwell midweek. The kindest way to honor my body was to listen to it. But much like needing to go to the bathroom or needing a beverage— my body urges me towards movement. Once given adequate rest and permission NOT to move without falling into a shame spiral, movement (like food) became intuitive for the first time.

I’ve discovered movement I love. And discovered movement that bores me. And I’m unapologetic about the movements I don’t care for – no matter how unpopular it appears.

I no longer see pain as punishment but instead my body communicating to me in the only way she knows how. It’s an opportunity to connect and recalibrate rather than disconnect, shame, and try and alter.

I’m no longer accosted by my naked body in the mirror. I no longer avoid looking or feel immense shame when I see my softness, my curves, the parts I still don’t “like” or find aesthetically pleasing. And while I can now look at my body with fondness and an appreciation and not viscerally hate— when I can find myself sexy or attractive, it does not mean it is absent of parts I still don’t enjoy. But they are other things I don’t enjoy; flossing my teeth, olives, making phone calls.

The difference is those dislikes don’t cause me distress. They don’t dictate my goodness or morality. I make no other meaning from it.

This drastic change from all encompassing body hatred to radical acceptance did not happen all at once. But here is what had to happen to get there:

For years, I hinged my hope on the notion that one day, if I worked hard enough, I could achieve the body I always dreamed of having.

I started to float the idea — what IF that doesn’t happen? What if I am trapped inside this fat body forever?

I cried a lot.

I journaled a lot.

I said the quiet parts out loud.

I reckoned with the worst case scenarios and whether or not I believed I could survive that.

I began to notice the fallacies.

I developed awareness around beliefs I no longer wanted to cosign, even if it was unpopular.

I paid attention how my body communicated to me
But I also paid attention to how I communicated to it

I separated out the physical discomfort from the emotional distress

To create space for a new neural pathways

I stopped judging difficult body image moments
And instead learned how to de-escalate from “this feels unsafe” to “this feels uncomfortable”

I learned how to be resourceful enough

Through body connection that wasn’t too distressful and reshaping the way I spoke to and about myself and my body — I realized how disconnected from myself I had become.

I had learned how to shape shift into the person I believed other people wanted me to be, but I never truly connected to what I wanted or needed. And when I did identify want or need, I wondered how that would impact other people.

I realized this adaptive behavior was created to keep me safe, but instead it was imprisoning me from the inside.

I learned how many of my body image issues were hiding their real identities: self esteem wounds.

By reconnecting to my values, practicing to trust my body + speaking to myself with compassion + unconditional positive regard — I was able to highlight the gap of my mind (how I want to be able to think) to my heart (how I actually feel/ respond). And I was able to do this by

Yes, did I want a smaller body to be healthier? Sure.

But I also didn’t want said health if it didn’t also come with a smaller body.

Because being in this fat body meant I would have a harder time going to the doctors and being believed.

Being in this fat body meant I would have a hard time accessing clothes, public spaces + would constantly live in fear of if I would fit, both physically, and mentally.

Being in this fat body meant that no one would ever be proud of me and there would never be a man who would ever desire to be with me.

By recognizing the dissonance between the core belief wounds of my heart and how they differed from the values I hold – I knew I needed to create a shift around my thinking and no longer let these wounds speak uninterrupted.

Not lukewarm affirmations or silver lining sympathies

But statements and beliefs that are also true

That when (not if) the harmful beliefs arose, I had something to challenge them with

Not to fix or heal, but to sit alongside

And offer an additional truth for this thought process to flow through

That when I’d try on last years clothes and they didn’t fit —

I could see the pathway of falling into a shame spiral, but also see the pathway that I would never let any person cosign the belief that they were bad because clothes didn’t fit them.

I’d sit in the dissonance of those opposing beliefs.

When I’d be rejected by a man on a dating site–

I’d acknowledge how harmful this feels, but also acknowledge that this wouldn’t want to be a person I dated anyway. I’d sit in the dissonance of feeling hurt and angered. Future crisis averted and this still fucking hurts.

When I’d sit down with my friends at a diner and the booth no longer fit me —

I could make space for the utter shame I felt in that moment, but also recognize if anyone else experienced this, I wouldn’t feel ashamed of them. Rather, I’d feel pissed for them.

In all these moments, I allowed my most healed self to come through to my current wounded self. And while it didn’t magically feel different in the moment, over time I began to notice a subtle shift

I stopped working out formally for more than 5 years to give my body a chance to recover burnout + exercise abuse.

I started dating in the body I have, and found that it was more rare to find men who weren’t attracted to me then men who were…

I traveled, bought clothes, went to the theater — all while asking for accommodations for my body and not getting angry with myself when an accommodation was needed. With clothes, I’d let myself grieve for the difficulty in finding what I wanted, but also continue to search for something that felt like me!

It wasn’t without difficulty or moments of shame or even moments I needed to give up on for a little while —- it was like learning a new language.

Being able to name out loud to people who wouldn’t rush me to gratitude, or tell me to change what I didn’t like about myself, or tell me, “You’re beautiful”.

The people who were able to say:  I see you in this darkness and I’m holding your hand.

And being able to acknowledge that even that step alone is a step in a different direction.

I know myself very well, and I know that there was nothing current day Bri could have told 19 year old Bri that would have made her change her mind.

She was committed to this surgery + the taste of relief was so close, she was willing to accept the high risk that it might not work out for the fragile strand of hope that whispered “but maybe this time will be different”.

But my surgery’s failure, my education in becoming a therapist + then my experience working in eating disorder recovery as a provider all fractured the foundation of my “hope”.

I’ve had so many clients and followers tell me they feared me changing my mind and one day deciding to pursue weight loss.

While I cannot promise that my body won’t change (cause… that’s what bodies do)-- I know that I can promise to never go down that path again.

I found joy in singing; I found my voice in song and in self advocacy.

I have traveled, and seen things I’d pinned on my pinterest board for “someday”

In my fattest body I:

• Built a helping business that has generated over a million dollars in all time revenue

• Become a prominent leader in my field

• I bought a house without a partner

• Had some of the steamiest makeout sessions I’ve ever had

• Seen half a dozen Broadway shows

• Joined (and quit) a Choir

• Cultivated a closet of clothes I absolutely adore

• Found freedom with food without counting macros or cutting out food groups

• Created a movement habit without coercion or external motivation

I’ve made some very bad business decisions that cost me financially.

I made some calculation errors in how much this undertaking of a home on my own would be

I’ve cried a lot of tears over men who definitely didn’t deserve me.

I’ve been mad over how complicated trying to find clothes that I love can be

It was never either or; it was always both and.

You don’t get to experience the joy of living without experiencing the grief of living too.

There is no body, no privilege, no product that can protect you from the reality of grief – with your body and beyond.

You have the innate right to change your body if you desire.

But you will never experience the unwavering relief you crave if you don’t also do the mindset work. Otherwise the goal post of what your body should look like will always keep moving.

And while I regret the choice to cut open my body in the name of health — I believe I made the best decision I could at the time. Ultimately, I believe it led me to who I’ve become today, to Body Image with Bri.

It is what David Kessler and the Elisabeth Kubler Ross Foundation consider to be the 6th stage of grief: Finding Meaning.

Although I don’t wish my experience of body grief on any person, and I accept that there is no undoing what has already happened—

You don’t have to choose between body hate or body love— but that instead, you can radically accept the body you have right now.

But without ostentatious exaggerations of body appreciation, but a quiet surrender of no longer fighting what you never really had long term control over.

You can control and change your habits to manipulate your body.

But that doesn’t mean you will have the body you worked for.

And you have permission to grieve that hurt. And it is through that grief, and letting others witness that grief where the real healing actually happens.

Thank you for giving my body grief purpose.

I love you all.

If you would like to co-create healing around your body grief, be sure to check out how to work with me, specifically my Body Grievers Live Course.