Last Monday I had weight loss surgery. If you prefer a more graphic image, most of my stomach was cut off and sucked out. This was done just before a hiatal hernial was repaired. In the trade speak of the industry, I’ve been “sleeved.” I probably won’t talk a lot more about the surgery itself; if you’re interested there are a lot of good blog sites. Just ask.

I would, however, like to share my observations regarding such a drastic move. I’m not really hoping to be invited to the prom or become a ballerina. I don’t particularly want to live a longer life. I mostly just want a good quality of life in the years I have left. And since my chosen profession is that of a writer, it is inherently sedentary. A drastic move was called for.

Oh, and as I told my friend Barry, I want to be able to shave the backs of my legs again.

Apparently my reasons were good enough because I passed the psychological evaluation that is required. But that leads to a really interesting thought about compulsions.

Bariatric surgeons and nurses consider obesity to be somewhere between a disease and an addiction, manageable by diet but not curable by it. I have been warned to watch carefully because that addictive personality is still here. One “sleever” told me that she started shopping and didn’t stop – her addiction became a financial disaster before she got it under control.

So if any of you notice that I’ve started to play around with heroin … or to campaign for any of the Republican candidates currently available … or begun to knock over liquor stores … be a friend. Remind me that nobody will call me Fatty anymore. But they could still call me Stupid.