I am 16 months post-op from RNY bariatric surgery, and down 250lbs from my highest weight. I feel awesome, I walk with my head up and shoulders back, I catch guys checking me out, and women smile at me and carry on conversations easily. A big change from 2 years ago. I think I look PDG actually, even though I am still 20 lbs away from goal. Well, let me rephrase, I think I look PDG DRESSED! Naked, is a whole other story. I am 45 years old and have spent at least 22 of them at least morbidly obese, then moving into the super obese category. I really don't think there is any way that my poor skin can bounce back after being stretched to capacity for so long. Up until about 30 lbs ago, the skin wasn't too bad, but since then, things have just gone to hell in a handbasket, made of my excess skin. On a forum I frequent, www.bariatrictv.com, the ladies were talking about breasts and how much they change. The WLS veterans on there said the boobs were the last to go. Some change at first, but then watch out! And let me tell you, they weren't wrong! The general consensus is that for every 100lbs you lose, you have between 10-12 lbs of excess skin accumulate, once you are "of a certain age". My nurse practitioner told me that she estimates about 30 lbs of excess skin on me now. So, technically, that would put me well nder goal. So, I called a plastic surgeon. I mean there is NO WAY I am going through all of this and feeling worse about my appearance than before. And I do; feel worse about my appearance than before. How twisted is THAT! Seriously! At 441 lbs I was blind to how big I was, and it takes me to look back at old videos to actually SEE that I was massive! Aren't delusions wonderful things sometimes? But now I take off my clothes and UGH...I look like someone has thrown massive gobs of pizza dough at me and they stucks. Showering is like giving one of my bloodhounds a bath. The skin just moves around with a mind of its own. And, not to be too graphic, there are rashes and issues that are just...too much. I walk to the bathroom in my nightie and I hear flop, flop, flop of my apron slapping off the tops of my thighs, I sit wrong and actually pinch my own ass, from the skin buckling in the wrong spot. If I raise my arms in a high wind, I might just achieve takeoff from the massive wings. I am pretty good at distracting myself on a day to day basis, but bedtime don't lie. When I lie back in the bed I literally have a puddle of skin outlining my body, from upper arms to calves. Now, I knew going in there would be issues, there was no way not too. But NOW I am signing up for more surgery. My appointment is August 23 and I am going to ask for a quote on a complete rebuild. I KNOW I can't afford it all at onece, and it will take years, but it puts a certain quaetion in my mind. When will I be OK? I was huge, now I am not, not even close. But I am not good enough. I will get the tummy and maybe breasts done first, but will that be enough? If I get the whole she-bang done and I and tight and taut, will that be enough? I have to remind myself that I am getting older, and stuff does go south on the best of us. But it's almost like I was in genalogical limbo for years, a kind of coma I am just coming out of. Other than my knees, I sure don't FEEL 45. And I sure don't act like my Mother did when SHE was 45. Is that ok? Or, unbeknownst to me, I am the delusional woman dressing like a teeny-bopper (does anyone even say that anymore) and looking kinda sad? I know many friends that aspire to be classy like Audrey Hepburn, or regal, like Lauren Bacall, but I never did. I wanted to be sexy. Always. I want to wear makeup and heels, and clothes that were fitted. For some reason Mae West just popped into my head. I want to be "rocker chic" but I fear that I am too old for that. I might need a rethink of who I want to be when I grow up. Cause the time is NOW.