Surgery Diary – Day 6 – Part 4

Right… can we just pause for a moment and appreciate something truly ridiculous?

I now have a 26-inch waist.

Twenty. Six. Inches.

Let that sink in.

At one point in my life I was squeezing myself into a 48-inch waistband like an overfilled sausage roll fighting its pastry.

Belts were more a suggestion than a functional item. And i coulddnt wear a tie and a belt on the same day or i would look like sausages. Buttons lived in constant fear. Chairs made suspicious noises when I sat down.

And now I’m standing here looking at trousers that belong on a teenager and thinking, “Whose child’s jeans are these and why are they apparently mine?” 🤯

This entire journey has been nothing short of phenomenal.

From 140kg down to 57kg.

From XXL to “do you have this in extra small?”

From avoiding mirrors to double-checking reflections just in case I’m looking at the wrong person.

I came to Turkey expecting surgery. What I didn’t expect was to emerge looking like I’d been through a human car wash, a bodywork garage, and a very enthusiastic tailor all at once.

The surgeon has basically taken the spare tyre, the boot, and half the bonnet and turned me into a streamlined sportscar.

At the moment I’m still wrapped up like a human burrito in compression garments, held together with stitches, staples and hope. Odema and swelling. I resemble a badly packed Christmas turkey, but a very slim Christmas turkey.

Scars from hip to hip, drains doing their thing, and me shuffling about like an elderly penguin that’s lost its wallet. But every day gets better.

The hotel I’ve moved to is basically a five-star recovery spa. Fruit plates, fancy water, open-ended menus and nurses who pop in to check on me like I’m a delicate houseplant that needs occasional watering.

Meanwhile I’m over here trying to remember how to walk upright without looking like Quasimodo after leg day.

Two more days and I’ll be flying home to Scotland, where I’ll no doubt confuse the entire family by fitting into clothes they haven’t seen me wear since about 1997.

Honestly though, when I look back at where this started, it’s mind-blowing.

Diabetes gone.

Health transformed.

Confidence rebuilt.

And now a waistline that makes shop assistants raise an eyebrow and ask if I’m sure I’m in the right department.

None of this happens without discipline, stubbornness, a slightly unhinged level of determination, and most importantly the unbelievable support of my wife Jacqui who has cheered me on through every pound lost and every emotional wobble.

So yes, right now I’m sore.

Yes, I’m moving at the speed of continental drift.

And yes, I still have the turning circle of a small cruise ship.

But a 26-inch waist?

Absolutely worth every second.

Onwards and upwards… carefully… and with a lot of cushions 😄💪