It was a game of Russian Roulette that night. He was drunk, out of his mind. He put the gun in my hand and told me to pull the trigger. I just knew I was going to die that night. I was mortified at the thought of my son not having a mother or a father. My ex told me not to worry; he said our son was coming with us that night too. He made me put the gun to my head and pull the trigger. *Click* Nothing came out. I never felt so relieved and scared to death at the same time.
You know what he said before he killed himself that night? He told me I was fat and no one would ever love me except him. Then he was gone. And for a long time, so was my mental health.
That night made me a monster. It put such a battery in my back to prove him wrong. It made me fierce. I lost 110 lbs. I re-enrolled in college. I finished my BS and earned two MS degrees. I went from making $17 an hour to six figures. I bought my first house. I’ve travelled the world. I was determined to be everything he tried to take from me.
It was something about the mental agony of an abusive relationship that caused created the pathway for me to go under the knife. I love me but I love the aesthetic that surgery gave me too. As a mother of two, I put back together what the kids took away. How many mothers can relate?
“Did you have plastic surgery?” is a question I get almost everyday. “Why did you have surgery?” is the runner up. I had surgery for me, because it made me feel good. I’m not ashamed and I’m unapologetic.