I arrive very early for my appointment. The staff are friendly at reception. I see a consultant peep around the door. His patient is running late. I observe him – he looks friendly, almost fatherly. He disappears into his consultation room. I wonder what he does – is he a plastic surgeon or what?His patient arrives; she sounds American and appologises for being late. Now he makes her wait. I can’t help to wonder if it is a game. He opens the door and she goes in. She asks is she could kiss him, does so on each cheek and I think, he must be good at what he does if patient are this comfortable with him. I am seen by a girl called Cheryl. She is very friendly and seems to know her story. I think she might have had one of these procedures as well as she talks like someone who knows. I am not sure what operation I want to go for. A Gastric band like Fern Cotton had or a Gastric Bypass. She decides to go through the slide show of the band and shows me the difference between the two where applicable, I have a list of questions and she answers all of it being very patient.She weighs me and for the first time in my life I do not feel uncomfortable getting on the scales. She works with people who are much fatter than I am. It is kind of reassuring. Next I have to see Dr. Ashton. I’ve read up about him before the consultation and he seems very clever, knowledgeable and a leader in this type of surgery. I wonder if he is vain and if he has had a face lift, you know how these plastic surgeons are! I hear him argue his point with the surgeon who does the gastric band, while I am waiting to see him. He makes a convincing argument and the conversation ends in laughter. The doctor walks past me, stops shakes my hand and introduce himself to me. I wonder if he will do my surgery and feel safe already, he seems like a nice man. I step into the office and feel a little nervous. I sit opposite the doctor and he starts explaining why he thinks I should have a gastric bypass rather than a band. I was leaning toward the bypass anyway, but am impressed with the way he explains the procedures, the pros and the cons.  The next moment I find myself on the bed. He takes my blood pressure, the bottom reading is diabolical. I do not feel self-conscious about this. He works with fat people and this is normal. He is used to it. He does not go into melodramatics of it. But I realise more and more that this operation can actually safe my life or if I need to be less dramatic, add 15 years to my life. He examines me thoroughly and then he asks to see my stomach. I look at him like he has asked a 2 year old for their last bite of ice cream. You must be kidding me I think. I show NO-ONE my stomach! He looks at me reassuringly and proceeds to lift my t-shirt. I feel myself go crimson red it is not a pretty sight! But he is used to it and I am not the biggest person he has had on this bed. Some people do not fit on the bed! He writes down some info and suddenly looks up asking me why I look so bamboozled (he obviously does not use that word). I am very frightened at this moment. Still not sure I wish my partner was here. I tell him that I need to talk things trough with Stu. He is very understanding and even offers to see both of us if I feel it is needed.  I think I just realised that I have to do something mayor before something mayor happens to me. It is scary and I hate myself for letting my body get out of control like this!