My amazing stomach

So I’ll be having my operation this Thursday, and I’m told I’ll be so tired/sore that I won’t even be up to sitting in an armchair and writing on my laptop (or, as I call it, “Being Awake”) for three weeks.

Chris is somewhat absent-minded, but I’ve asked him to post on my personal facebook page just to say, “Yeah, op’s done. Felicity’s resting” or some such, but I’m not sure he’ll remember.

So don’t worry I guess? If you don’t hear from me for a few weeks?

One side effect of my anxiety disorder is worrying about people worrying about me. So just don’t, mmkay? Promise?

Right now I’m writing a chapter about giant squid, so that’s good.

My feelings swing wildly hither and thither regarding the operation. There are three main axes (okay, four):

  1. I will be able to fit human-shaped clothes again… after nearly seven fucking years of maternity clothes! I might even be able to wear jeans again. But I’m super extremely giddily excited about wearing all my dresses (the ones that fit my overweight self)! It took me way too long to realise that every dress ever will exaggerate a big belly. And maybe I’ll fit into seatbelts properly again! And NOT get congratulated on my pregnancy (which I don’t have) every time I go to a party or run into an old friend. That will certainly help with social anxiety.
  2. Maybe, someday soon, I won’t actually be disabled any more. Maybe I’ll be able to do crazy stuff like walk to the shops or go to a playground that’s more than fifty metres from the car park. Maybe I’ll be able to just get rid of my wheelchair forever, and trust myself to travel solo again, and be… you know, capable and independent and stuff, without fighting so hard for the basics? And not so afraid of everything, because everything won’t hurt so much? Maybe? Surely, at the very least, my back and neck (and maybe migraines) will be a lot less of an issue due to not having an extra chunk of stomach pulling my whole body out of alignment. [Shout-out to all my chronically ill and/or disabled peeps out there… I don’t have anything good to say except I see you and I hope I do right by you in my life and in my stories.]
  3. What if all this is wrong and I just fail at everything and get fatter than ever and all those people who supported me financially and emotionally about this operation were just wrong and my body is just as useless and awful next year as it is right now? What if I go through all this only to end up just as unhealthy but twice as hopeless?
  4. I’m not good with pain, the kids aren’t good at boundaries, and Chris isn’t good at remembering minutiae (like taking Louisette’s leftover lunch out of her bag rather than leaving it to be discovered in February). This recovery period is going to be all kinds of torture. And then when I get to the “kinda okay” part of my recovery Chris will be gone and it’ll still be school holidays and it’s going to be even worse with kids present 24-7.


So I guess I’m a bit stressed out. Mostly about my own imperfect self re:immediate family members, and also trying to do everything that needs doing this year in the next three days. (Christmas is sorted, plus a bunch of other stuff including most of my writing gigs. I just need to write 7000 more words of a giant squid attack and then I can relax. Theoretically.)

I had Chris take some pre-op pics of me for comparison purposes:


“I just need to write 7000 more words of a giant squid attack and then I can relax.”

Story of my life.

Published by Felicity Banks Books

I write books (mainly adventure fantasy for kids and young adults), real-time twittertales, and a blog of Daily Awesomeness. @Louise_Curtis_ and My fantasy ebook is on sale at

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: