Industrial Sized Woman: Entry 1
Thursday 25 February 2021 whilst on the bus into central Ōtautahi Christchurch I saw I had received a missed phone call from a new number. I was two sleeps out from performing my solo hour of stand-up comedy, Cardigan Faget (pronounced “fah-jey”) for the second time. My mind was fixated on humour and silliness. What the heck, I thought, I have half an hour riding into the city to call back this strange phone number.
“Hello this is Jadwiga, I had a missed call from this number?”
The person on the phone introduced herself as the assistant to Dr Rita Yang, Aotearoa New Zealand’s sole practicing gender affirming surgeon (vaginoplasty only). Matter of factly I was informed the call was from a plastic surgery department at a hospital in Wellington; I was being considered for publicly funded gender affirming surgery. There was a significant catch: I must lower my BMI by 8 points for a consultation in July and again by 10 points before surgery. Though I have wanted this operation, or rather a physical sense of completeness since my earliest memories, my heart rate did not increase, I did not become excited, I was in a state of disbelief. I handled the phone call pragmatically, asking simple questions. I was considerately asked questions about my sexual health.
“I’m on the bus” I answered bashfully.
The assistant and I laughed together at the unfortunate timing.
“Well, I’ll email you to give our address and you can reply with all your information”
Arriving at Good Times, Ōtautahi Christchurch’s own dedicated comedy venue in a hectic state amid renovations, I shared my good news with the manager Georgie. I took out and cracked open a cool can of fruit juice in the stinking heat and toasted to my good news. That night I celebrated and indulged for what will be the last time at least until July. At Hachi Hachi with my friend Audrey I ordered a pork set menu and Takoyaki. At Wunderbar in Lyttleton for comedy with Hannah, I drank bourbon and coke. I gave in to temptation.
The next day I proactively contacted my general practitioner, my dietitian, and arranged a first appointment with a new personal trainer at my local gym, City Fitness. I have since met with each of them. My GP in the little one storey complex with the low dark brown wooden support beams I duck under every time I walk my sometimes-inconvenient height through the door. “I’ve never had a client go through this, so this will be new for both of us”. My dietitian who likened her pregnancy to my surgery, “I’ve wanted to be pregnant my whole life and every day I wake up happy and excited, just like you with your surgery”. She assures me the requested weight loss by the Wellington hospital is “physically possible”. And my personal trainer, who pushes me safely to my limit despite my severely unfit body pleading me to stop. She doesn’t say much other than fitness stuff.
I remember when Dr Peter Walker retired in 2014, the only gender affirming surgeon providing vaginoplasty in Aotearoa. I had only just come out of the closet, it was horrible timing to swiftly learn that then, patients being sent overseas for surgery, the waiting list had leapt to some 40+ years. I knew petty little of the trans community and of activism then but still, I knew 40+ years was sickeningly unjust. Trans people live and die in that timeframe, too many through suicide. I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to pay for my own surgery in Thailand (then upwards of $25,000 NZD).
I remember years ago my endocrinologist in Wellington, a kindly older man expressed as gently and sweetly as he knew how.
“Do you have a partner?” he asked at a routine check in to monitor my hormone levels.
“No?” I answered confused.
“Well when you do have a husband I stress you tell him ‘I really love you but I don’t think we can have sex yet. You see, I’m not complete. Once I’ve had the surgery and I’m healed, then we can make love properly’”
I nodded, shielding my then Lesbianism from the medical records. I’d been through the psychological assessment and passed with flying colours, granting me necessary access to hormone replacement therapy. I wasn’t about to risk anything now and have “DYKE” in red stamped across my files. Would they question my desire for genital surgery if they knew I was attracted to other women? Too many friends and acquaintances certainly questioned how one could be trans and gay at the same time. Heck, even I used to question whether I could be gay and trans. It sounds silly to think I had to hide being gay but that’s how I felt.
Though it felt useless to be on the waiting list for gender affirming surgery, I knew it was a political act. And as my political awareness grew, I wanted our community to be heard. There were petty few if any surveys and studies being conducted in Aotearoa about gender diverse people. One of the only ways for the common person to show the growing demand for trans related surgery was to join the high-cost treatment pool, the waiting list for surgery.
At Wellington hospital, back when I was skinny, I clip-clop marched down the glass corridor in my black ankle boots with the thick heel, past the crumbling original façade and into the fluorescent lit windowless interior, up to the endocrine department and into the office of my doctor where I pestered the soon-to-be-retired gentleman for my access to the waiting list. After all, I met every ideal that he looked for. My body was responding well to oestrogen, I had a job and was saving my hard-earned money for facial feminisation surgery in Argentina, I was conventionally, sometimes passably feminine, conformed to social standards and I was straight (Dr didn’t need to know the gay truth). My pestering succeeded, I was allowed on the wait list and then forgot about it for years, never in my wildest fancy expecting to be given surgery.
So how am I going on this weight loss plan? What are my stats, what are my goals?
I am a whopping 202 centimetres (6.62 feet) tall
On Thursday 25 February 2021 I was exactly 195 kgs (430 lbs) with a BMI of 47.79
To be considered for surgery I must lower my BMI to 40 by July.
This means I’ll have to lose approximately 32 kgs (70.5 lbs) in roughly 17 weeks.
That’s roughly 1.9 kgs (4.18 lbs) a week.
That’s gonna be fucking ridiculous to attempt. But I can do it. With the support of my GP, my therapist, my dietician, my personal trainer and most importantly, my friends and whanau, I can do this. But the next few months until July are gonna be a fucking grind, and after that until surgery will be just as hard.
But I’ve wanted this my whole life, since my earliest memories I can recall needing this physical sense of completeness, this outward acknowledgement of my true self. I’m now completely out and honest about my sexuality. I approach my healthcare professionals, even kindly outdated endocrinologists, with openness and transparency. Food has always been a comfort for me, as it is with so many fat people. Whilst I will still nourish my body, I will abstain from junk. No burgers or fast food, no alcohol, no sugary drinks, a minimum intake of fats, sugars and carbs.
I woke at 5:00 am the morning I wrote this to go to the gym before creative writing college. It was dark and the car park was almost entirely empty. I worked out hard, I could feel it in my muscles, aching. But I did it, I did that workout. I’ll check in with journal updates every once in a while. For now, this piece of writing will serve as the introduction to my journal towards surgery.
The date I published this journal entry was Thursday 01 April 2021.
Currently I weigh exactly 186.20kgs (432.54 lbs) with a BMI of 45.60
That means I’ve lost 8.8 kgs in a little over a month.
I have to lose another 23.2 kgs to reach my goal BMI for my surgical consultation.
I want to end with a disclaimer: “healthy” is a loaded word and means different things for different people. Rapid weight loss is not something “normal” or advised but for extreme circumstances such as my own. This journal is not a prescription, if you look to stand-up comedians for medical advice, you’re looking in the wrong place. This is a very personal story of determination and will power, a journey towards a lifelong goal of completeness and acceptance.
