The Wizard

When I watched the Wizard of Oz, I was like every little girl, I wanted to go to Oz. It had to be better than the world I lived in, Alaska. When, The Wizard; first appeared I thought nothing more than he was a voice on the other end of the line. Within a short time, he was a voice I waited to call, he laughed at my jokes however juvenile and he said I was charming, it became days I would wish for a phone call to hear his voice hoping he would take me from the world I lived in.

As in Oz, there were signs of the tarnished curtain so very early, I should have realized long before I pulled it back. A picture early on in our conversations, me holding my 2 year old son, “Is that a shadow or fat, I see?”

My pause was one because until this moment, weight had never been, will say, an issue. The Wizard had only been my second boyfriend in my whole life(18); boys had been my friends but he was the first since my son’s father who had found me attractive. He was charming and witty and when he arrived in the hot air balloon, one spring afternoon I thought unlike the movie; please take me away, take me to Oz. I wished of Dorothy and the unknown places she was going to go.

I would eventually travel in his hot air balloon, and Oz was as I had hoped: scary, different, and well, magical. However, I was alone and now away from my friends and family. In Oz, I was Dorothy, a new place, new people and only memories of a world now a Hot Air Balloon ride away. The Wizard’s curtain was beginning now to began to tatter, what had been a hopeful future became debt and bills and battles that were long before my storyline ever started. But I was committed and I knew in Oz anything was possible, or so I hoped.

When opportunity struck him, I unexpectedly went from family of three to single mom and housekeeper, I begrudged no one for an opportunity so I quietly sat patient of his return. The Wizard traveled more then he didn’t. It wasn’t long to realize the debt that was still awaiting us and knew I couldn’t stay at home playing house, I quickly found a job that was wonderful, and I had my own supporting cast: a Tin Man, a Scarecrow, a Cowardly Lion and my own Toto.

The weeks of travel turned into months and I stayed ever patient that The Wizard would return home. After a specific trip home, I had mentioned a friend had come to visit immediately I was consumed with questions of this friend’s return and concerns over their occupancy of our residence. I thought little of the request that no one visit our home, unless The Wizard had approved of them far later realizing those approvals would never come. And upon his infrequent returns, if I did leave our house for even a brief time it was clocked on an egg timer, if my return wasn’t timely I was scolded.

There were a thousand small things that as a woman, I can say The Wizard was right. I should clean the kitchen, I should have done the laundry better(I HATE laundry, just a side note) but on others he was distinguishably wrong.  Upon buying a grill for our first Easter holiday, I was told build this please. I thought nothing of the 5 hours it took me to build it on our beautiful deck, until that evening when I went to lay down. I mentioned my discomfort and it was shrugged off as unimportant as was many things in those day, he had a trip and as I packed the last pair of underwear he proclaimed I’d be fine and to suck it up.

After dropping him off at the airport I arrived at work in tears. What the night before had been painful was now 2 inch blisters across my shoulders and back. I cried as my companions took my uniform shirt from my back and gasped. “How long has this been this way?” They proclaimed.

As tears rolled down my face, I was sent to the ER. I was immediately treated for topical third degree burns, not the worst thing in the world but it was then I began to discover I was alone, the doctors asked if I had someone to dress my wounds, and I wept. I knew not a single person in Oz except for my companions at my work but they had been put at a far distance because to The Wizard socializing with others was out of the question.

When a visitor from the North visited once, he commented about my lack of connections and friendship. His visit, as was he, mysterious at best.  When he arrived unexpected at my work, I cried as I wrapped my arms around him, he was Uncle Henry in my storm. He didn’t know but his questions of my life in Oz, were a turning point. Though I had only been there a short time, I knew something was wrong.

Even with a scarecrow, a cowardly lion, a tin man and a Toto I was only safe, I found at work. The one place he couldn’t control, in the end of our time together he did try to use my safe haven against me but with my companions I was safe and in the end, my story, ended uneventfully, but was eventful in its own respect. You see The Wizard had made decisions, like the ownership of our one car, who I was allowed to be friends with and what I was allowed to do. I was ill prepared for the world outside of his Oz. I thought I was now left to the flying monkeys who waited at the door, with a small child I took what we owned and moved to a neighborhood only blocks away from our original home. It was a horrible new reality but the one I was forced to live in, 5am wake up calls to get up an uncooperative toddler to the overnights of laying down on the couch and praying his favorite video would eventually sooth his toddler soul; because we were going to have to be up in only a few short hours.

I don’t know that what I went through all those years ago is defined as abuse, I can tell you he removed me from EVERYTHING, EVERYONE and made me believe for a very long time I was unimportant and deserved nothing.  There are still effects of those times and things that happened, I’m overly protective of my friends and whom I trust, I want to believe in all people there is good but I realized long ago that isn’t true. I hold no one but myself accountable for what happened in OZ.  The tarnished and tattered curtain of The Wizard was always apparent and had I listened to those around me or been more vocal of my fears in life perhaps I wouldn’t have suffered as long as I did. I don’t believe he ever meant to be a monster, I don’t think he ever thought he was a monster. But as in Oz, The Wizard was the one who changed me the most. 

YOU DAMN WELL BETTER KNOW IT

Eleven years ago… November 25th, 2002
I weighed 350 pounds and was a single mom.

I can’t seem to write that sentence without tearing up; I have heard many times, How did you do it? I’m fair, I mean, FAIR from PERFECT but… Boy if you had known me then, it is, far different.

When I was a little girl, my daddy told me one thing, “Kristin, you are a princess.” and it didn’t matter my outer appearance, my daddy thought I was the most beautiful angel ever. I was a chosen child, Kristin that’s my name, Chosen. So when you have that gift, OBESITY, doesn’t matter. I didn’t have bulimia or anorexia; I didn’t have cancer or leukemia. I, was healthy but large, and I mean extra large. For the most part, I did all things you did when you were young, I had a few things that I couldn’t do but well, I never thought I was different.  My parents made sure of that.

It wasn’t until I was a mom that I ever thought I was different, and when a future boyfriend, an abusive boyfriend asked was that a shadow or fat after sending him a picture (I guess I should have thought that was a bad relationship) but I charged thru and almost married him(insert really crazy face). Living in Las Vegas, I had personality and that saved me no beauty needed. That had always been my saving grace, Kristin was the funny girl.  I remember at 20 years old living in my second floor condo and having trouble breathing getting up the stairs carrying my little man, who thought Momma was the most beautiful thing ever.

It was unmistakably hard, I was alone alot, and I was scared. But my family, oh gosh, my mom and dad they stood by me every single day. My dad, he believed in and still believes in me every day. He never said an ill word about my size, EVER. And honestly, I don’t know how; love is the only thing I can say is what helped him. I know he worried, a lot about me. He worried about the little boy who would grow up mother less if things didn’t change and he worried about the life I would never get to lead, but he NEVER, EVER would have said a word. 

I can’t tell you when it happened but on a nondescript day in 2001, I called him and said, “So, Dad…”
And as is stereo typical for my dad, he responded, “How much is this going to cost?”
“$xx,xxx????”
“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, say what?????”

As I explained in my most brave voice, “I’m obese, Dad.” I could hear the deafening silence, “I’m going to die, Daddy.” Because I knew there was no way of getting around it, I was dying.

After a long and tearful conversation about options and things I had tried and things I could do and what ifs. My dad and I made what I can only describe as the most life changing decision ever, Gastric Bypass.

I have spoken about GB, many times and I stand to say GB is a commitment. Your life is forever changed because of GB. It will never be something that is easy, and anyone who says it is an easy way out can give me a call. Not that I think there aren’t better ways but 11 years ago, I saw no options to the decisions I made. And I live every day with conditions brought to courtesy of GB.

People often ask me, “Would you ever go back?”
“NOT in one millions years.”
Though I have things that have changed because of GB, I’m alive.


I wake up every morning with a husband who knows nothing of the past, my 15 year old remembers so very little of that time. And my eight year old, sees pictures and knows nothing of the person he sees. He recognizes his big brother(As they are identically twins, 7 years apart) but the woman, the woman he sees he knows nothing of. She is a stranger, and to me, she is almost gone, too. By pure size she is most definitely missing, and from memory it is almost frightening remembering who she once was. My best friend, Traci before she died often reminded me, “Don’t forget her, Kristin.” I saw her once, after the operation, at one of my lowest points in my weight lose, she cried. She wrapped her arms around me, and cried. In her eyes, I didn’t know what I saw but I know now, she finally saw my future, Traci knew I was going places.

I have to back up a moment, on the day of my operation, my dad had flown in, I think more to make sure the operation happen than anything else. He was there as the portly orderly rolled me away for the last time and he was the first hand and voice I heard the moment I woke up from my operation. He told me to listen, he told me the people around me would take care of me, he kissed me on the forehead and left for the airport, you see he had change plans to attend a meeting to be with me on my operation day. I fell prompt back to sleep, to wake up to the softest hand I knew, Trac, she was sitting there waiting for my eyes to open. I didn’t want to move, I didn’t want to do anything. To know Trac was to love her, and there was no getting out of doing as I was told. Within an hour I was up, I still remember her voice telling me, “You’ll feel better, if you get to walking.” “Get the gas out.” As she giggled.

I didn’t know where I was going eleven years ago, I didn’t know what to expect. My life, dramatically changed in 1,000 ways with in the first 12 months. Some for the best, and some for not so good. I have lost some friends and I have learned so much about LIFE, I didn’t know anything until GB. I was a baby, and very protected. I have gotten to be strong and defiant of society’s norms, am I different YOU DAMN WELL BETTER KNOW IT. And I’m proud of it. Do I wish I was more like my beautiful, stunning, amazing pageant friends, oh my, YES PLEASE. But Traci, my dad, my mom, and all my friends they knew I was going places, today I look around at all I have accomplished and do I wish my checking account had more zeroes in it, YEP, but man, I’m honored to be someone people look up to and people want to be like, how can I think I have it bad.

Life isn’t what you start with, it’s what you make it. My dad often laughs at me when I post pictures of the old me, and questions my motivation. Well, sometimes you have to be humble, she humbles me, as the does the tattoo I have on my foot, as a statement to who she was, being a whole person, I have friends who weight less than she did, makes you think. Go to the grocery store and pick up 50 lbs. of flour and carry it around the store, call me when it is over I carried 3 times that every day until November 25th, 2002 when I was 350 lbs and a single mom to a 4 year old little boy.

The View from the Cheap Seats

Mom says I was destined to be in pageants, you see the last time my mom held me, before my new folks came to get me all those years ago, was to bundle me up and we watched the 1980 Miss America Pageant. The winner was Miss Mississippi.

In my teens, I represented Alaska as Ms. Alaska Job's Daughter, highlight of my young life. It was an extremely small pageant but I got to travel to Fairbanks and Washington to represent our State and I got a sash and crown. And though it was a small pageant I had big dreams, I liked the stage.  I watched my best friend, named Miss Alaska Teen USA '96, I was so proud to watch her and did what I could throughout her year to support her.  I knew 1,000 other pageant beauties over the years and always supported where I could, even worked backstage a few years after Bran gave up her title. 

Throughout the years I always was bejeweled by pageantry but it wasn't until last year that I ever thought about a title associated with my name. 

Success has engulfed my life. I'm proud of the accomplishments I have made, and about the difference I make in my community.  When sickness started to befall me last year I made some hard choices and one really positive one, I wanted to show my family how proud I was of who we are. In a moment, I decided a pageant was the answer. With much confusion of my husband, he supported the endeavor sheepishly. More concerned my body wouldn't be able to handle the requirements, he sat on the sidelines and watched every movement in this intense game. 

The ride of a lifetime doesn't ever begin to verbalize the pageant experience. A whirlwind of laughter, hungry tummies, and sore feet, were all made possible courtesy of Mrs. Alaska America 2013.  In the end I walked away with a handful of metals: Mrs. Congeniality, Mrs. Community Service and I was runner-up for Mrs. Hospitality. I didn't win, nope that wasn't in the cards but I met people that would change my life. ;-)

Now I will admit I cried that night, when I didn't even place in the top 5 but after I took a moment I was honored to get to know our Mrs. Alaska, and boy am I so lucky to call her friend.  I was screaming the loudest at the computer screen the night she STORMED through the National Pageant and came out the other side, MRS. AMERICA 2013. 

As for me, 2013, I got to be part of the action. I volunteered whenever my scheduled allowed and sometimes moved things, just so I could help. ;-) I was extremely honored to accompany Mrs. America at a few amazing events. It wasn't just about the cool stuff I got to do this year, I watched each pageant girl I met grow, change, develop and even get married. Along the way I heard: "You are an inspiration," "I wanna be like you when I grow up," and probably my favorite, "We wanna help you, Ms. Kristin." 

I spent the year just being me, I got to watch my friends win nationally,  and in December I got to watch my cousin win the pageant I watched so long ago, Miss Alaska Teen USA. Then in January, I sat as my favorite Junior Higher was named to be the first Miss Alaska Junior High School. Its been a busy year in our house, lots of fundraisers, lots of dress fittings, lots of strategies meetings but overall what a year. 

Somewhere along the way I decided I wanted to do it again. So in April, on a PERFECT day, I ran for Mrs. Alaska United States. Though the outcome was much like the first, it was awesome to go try one more time. I walked in with more confidence and experience and well, it will always feel the same not winning, TOUGH. But I know that Mrs. Alaska United States has a big future ahead of it.  It like Mrs. Alaska America has a strong director and that's important. If nothing else if I had never met a single girl in either pageant, I would have simply been changed by meeting Ms. Rita and Ms. Renee.  I could only hope to be half the woman that these two are; Guess I'm the lucky one. 

People ask, "Kristin, you gonna do it again?" Some are quick to assume, "Absolutely, you got this." Others, "No way, losing can't be easy." Well walking across the stage in a swimsuit is probably the easiest part, but I'll be honest I don't know if I'll ever run again, almost to soon to tell. I can say it was really nice at the end of the pageant, a whisper in my ear, "I know how hard you worked." I did but for myself and my family. 

And lets just say the view from my seat this year has been UNFORGETTABLE. 

I have heard more this year about hopes and dreams, fears and weaknesses. I don't know that if I had won the crown I would have been able to experience it like I have. I can tell you though, this place it grows woman differently, in the most spectacular ways. Though I may not have changed them, I hope I helped them from the conversations over which dress should be worn to how to speak in your interview, I have been there in moments other people don't get. 

And maybe it won't be 2014, but I have some lofty goals and I have a cheering team like nobodies business. So a girl can dream, and she can always take to heart the first thing she ever did was watch Miss Mississippi become Miss America 1980.

There is a Monster under my bed

*********************************UPDATE************************************

It has been recommended and suggested that I let the readers know, you will judge this blog entry on many unknown facts. This is not about a man made or even a self made demon,

 this truly is about the unknown and accept what you can not change. 

Please enjoy!!!!!

*******************************************************************************

There is a monster under my bed, one without a name.

You will ask, "What is your monster, Kristin?"

Fortunately or unfortunately, those explanations will be left to be chronicled later. Not to say that they won't but its for another day and another time. As for today, why am I taking a moment to tell you about this so called "Monster" Well, because this person, me, has so many people whom look up to her; I want and need people to know I have my own monsters to survive.

Right now, it is a quiet monster, one that affects me only in minor ways; not everyday but on the days it peeks out, I must be prepared for ANYTHING.

Monsters, you see, well they are scary because they are unknown; if I could walk up and talk to my monster maybe it would be easier to understand.  Though this monster, it has come along for a long journey we have been together for years but it wasn't always as obvious as it has become in recent ones.

Now where the monster stands, is at the foot of my bed and each morning I wake up, remembering a time when I didn't want it under my bed and think now, I wish it only to go back there.  I have in fact, known this monster was coming; I could tell stories, it doesn't mean it makes it any easier.

There are days that yelling at my monster would be easier, then dealing with the situations it causes but I'm not allowed to yell at my monster because again my monster doesn't understand and that's just not fair. I wish I knew how to fix it, to make it easier to accept; this monster will eventually affect my children, affect my family, affect all around me and for that, I'm eternally sorry. You will make assumptions from that statement but you would be wrong, this isn't me, I'm not the story.

I know you are all asking, "What is the monster?" Well, as a amazing friend recently asked me after hearing a story about my monster, "What can I do for YOU?" And that is probably the hardest question, because I don't know how to answer, and because to those who do know and those who don't, my monster is scary to them in different ways, maybe its a fear that reality is worse then any fiction. And this is in, fact my reality, it is something that I have to learn to live with, I have few options anymore.

The monster has no name yet; the simple fact of, I didn't want to accept it. Naming it, well it made it real, and I know, I soon, will have no choice, it will have an ugly name and it won't be like Mikey from Monsters, Inc. It will be one that changes my world. I will have to explain to people the reality of my situation and take care of things I never expected to.


My monster has already taken away a lot, the darkness under my bed well it has started to ooze to touch things I have held dear, but it is not my monsters fault and that's the hardest part. I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY wanna be mad at my monster, but its would be to no avail.

So please know, though I have many things together in my life, I'm a proud mom, wife, daughter, and business woman but monsters still lurk under my beds.

I'll have to start at the end.

With Mother's Day on the quick horizon it got me to thinking about being a mom. I have been a mom just short of half my life. And not to say that's a bad thing, but if you had told me at 15 years old(the age of my oldest, come this August) that in 3 short years you will have a baby and you will change every molecule of your life for this little person, I would have laughed at you.  So that being said and with Aaron Michael not having any idea, here is OUR Story. And now you can say you know one of us...

To start I have to go to the end… He was born healthy and perfect, 12:04AM Thursday August 13^th, 1998 in Toowoomba, Queensland, Australia.

You’ll ask a thousand questions on my journey of telling this story and go for it, ask away the more you ask the more you learn.

We rewind, simple because we have to.

There really isn’t a good place to start, It was a rather un-unique exchange I was sent to live in Toowoomba in January 1998, I was suppose to live with a family for a few months, yada yada yada and then move on but I had a wonderful family who took me in longer then expected. Our neighborhood was like many in our town, house after house. Beautifully landscaped, and for the most part I had a perfect experience: traveled the country, went to exchange camp, got to stand on the steps of the Sydney Opera House: it was for all I can say, Amazing.

So here's where it begins to get "INTERESTING" Mid August, 1998; approximately 2 days before my 8 month anniversary of living in Toowoomba, my life began to change.  It was a school holiday and my host mum had left for the morning, so as a teenage girl I slept in. While lying there in my super comfy bed, I had, I MEAN, had to go the bathroom I ran to the bathroom only to not make it in near enough time. I thought little of the events of that morning; they wouldn’t become prevalent, in fact, for days.

It was a Monday August 10th, 1998, I would spend the day relaxing enjoying my day off, nothing exciting.

I must explain, a few months earlier I had been diagnosed with TB, I had gone to camp with a girl from a country deep in an outbreak of TB. I was given the regimen of meds for TB and I was on my way, ps not meds that are great for woman with child. Saw my doctor every few weeks but for the most part I stayed healthy. I would have to say I got occasionally quezy but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was at best considered a BBW at 18 years old I was 5’11 and weighed roughly 325 lbs. I was a big girl. I had been told cycles could change and so don’t be shock if it doesn’t happen for a month, please again hold back your giggling.

I could explain away any crazy food cravings for being home sick or new things living in a new place. For their part my host family kept me pretty healthy, I was expected like all the other exchange students to walk home from school most days of the week, so I was getting regular exercise almost everyday, and if I wanted any treats or sweets I had to be aware I was spending my fun money so I didn’t buy tons from the tack shop(Food Court).  And as a young person I had, had stomach issues that were horrible and uncomfortable so any issues in regards to my gut I had gotten use to and really just kept it to myself not wanting to complain.

Tuesday, August 11th; comes and goes and in my mind I couldn’t have told you if it was cold or hot or rainy or well anything. 

Wednesday, August 12th; I woke up to put on my uniform for another day of school. Reminded by my host mum it was a TB appointment day; they were going to check all my vitals, a simple check up and then back to school, where it was finals week.  The ironic part of all the ironic parts in this story was my final exam for my music appreciation class was to write and perform a song and let it be video taped; so that being said, I have never seen the video but I’m told if you make it to the end of this story you would laugh your butt off, you can visible see my eyes twitch as if I’m not feeling well. My music teacher, at one point asked me if I was feeling ok I simply said I was fine my tummy hurt alittle but oh well.

The day would finish and my 2 girl friends, one whom had a car said she was willing to give us a ride home. Simple thing you would think, however this would be a pivatly moment of the next 10 hours of events.  On the ride home we decided we were hungry so we stopped in to MCDonalds and got chicken nuggets and French fries, and if you ask me why I remember my meal that night it seems so simple, and it really was. 

I came home with food in tow and my host mum, snarled to see the food, she had wanted to make some supper before she left for Stick N’ Bitch, yep that’s what they call it. My friend had scarfed down her food as I sat uncomfortable having to go back and forth with no results from the bathroom. My school partner had decided that she would call her mum to be picked up since I just looked like I wasn’t feeling well. We said our good byes and she was off. In the mean time my host mum had been picked up because her car was in shop for yes you know, "Stick n' Bitch". Leaving with a smile she said, "That McDonalds made you sick." I sighed and headed off to relax.

My host dad arrived home shortly there after, asking the question I had spent my day hearing. "You okay, you don’t look so hot." I at this point was in pain, but I again knowing he had squash to go to simply said, "No I’m headed to bed." He left and I was alone again. I sat on the couch, I layed in my bed, I went to the bathroom, and final 45 minutes after my host dad left, I broke.

Little known fact, Midwifes are very good at their jobs, and they are very handy to have as not only your host mums dear friend but also your neighbor just 4 doors down. I phoned up to Terry's house and asked her to come to our house she laughed me off and said, "What’s wrong you have 2 legs?" To know her was to love her; upon explaining I couldn’t make it to the front door, her toned changed. She simple said, "I’ll be there in a moment."  

Moments later the front door opened and there she stood, she was prepared I could see for anything except what I was about to tell her. As I sat on the couch and she felt my abdomen, she began to ask me questions. It was simple questions, had I been sick, what was I feeling. And the question that would change everything; Had I lost control of my bladder today? I paused and said, "No, but on Monday I wet the bed."  I knew the turn of white in her face, something was officially wrong. I asked her and it was at this moment I started to panic. She explained simply either something inside had ruptured or I was getting ready to have a baby and either way the hospital was the best place for us to be.

The moments that followed involved my host dad coming home and walking in to Terry saying simply, "She needs to go to the hospital." No further questions were asked, no comments made, a well oiled machine. I was placed in the car and we were off. We were at the hospital in my mind moments later. So, Terry, the midwife well she was also a teacher and she taught at the hospital we were taken too; upon walking in we are whisked into a emergency triage room.  A beautiful nurse, in my mind,  asks me could I go to the bathroom and it was decided I didn’t have a choice. After the stick turned blue, had 2 lines and infact said POSITIVE across it, I was put in a wheelchair being pushed by a portly orderly who was gruff but knew the hospital and knew it well. Behind me came words and talk I couldn’t understand but I was pretty not ok with everyone else understanding what was going on other then me, so I stood up from my wheelchair and simple but loudly I let it be known I was not going anywhere with anyone until someone explained what was going on. 

And God Love, Terry, managed to sit me down and with her hands on my knees she said we have to check one thing and then we will explain everything, and that she was going to be with me through the entire thing.  With this promise I sat quiet as they took me to an examine room and I was hooked up to monitors and a belt put tightly around my waist.  As the bleeping started to get louder I remember a young nurse simply said, "Sweetie, do you know what that is?" Quietly I said, "My heartbeat," and she said, "No that’s your babies."  After a moment where nurses, doctors and my constant companion,Terry took a collective deep breath they explained that with my water breaking 2 days prior they wanted to make sure everyone including the unnamed child located squarely in my uterus was okay, that I had been at great risk since the moment my water broke.

Again the moments that follow grew faster and faster, I was taken to a delivery room. You’ll ask where are, my host parents at this point?  My host dad went and snatched up my host mum from Stick N’ Bitch explaining only he had dropped me off at the hospital because honestly at the moment he left we didn’t know what was going on. They were brought back to the delivery area and my host dad said, "You always did have to make a splash," we laughed at the fact that for all 4 of his kids he had dropped off my host mum at the hospital and said call me when it was over, don’t bash him I have learned it’s a cultural thing.  My host mum sat being extremely watchful of each and every doctor and what their position was in the operation. Word had spread across the hospital about the American Exchange Student and the unknown birth, Everyone wanted to help.

The labor was nothing exciting though now 14 years later I wonder was I just in plain shock or how do I not remember that moment. However, at 12:04am on August 13^th, 1998 Baby Boy Thompson was born to Kristin Thompson in a hospital somewhere in small town Queensland, Australia. A healthy baby boy of 7 lbs 12 oz. my host mum took baby duties and I stared at this creation, this thing. Yep, he was a thing at that moment. Nothing would prepare me for all that was about to happen or occur over the next few days and weeks of our lives. 

It was decided my host parents would go home and start making the calls that would be important, because in the 10 hours that had lapst no one was thinking to take the time to call my folks in the States. Left in the hospital was Baby Boy Thompson and I. So while I slept, the rest of my life, awoke to a vastly changed world. Though it was close to 3 am in Toowoomba  in Anchorage, Alaska August 12^th was just beginning  my mom was a school teacher getting ready to start her 30^th year as a teacher and my dad was a government official. As the phone rang in the Thompson house my dad answered to hear, a man whom, up until this moment he had never spoken to. With my American accent my host dad had never really gotten the hang of my dad’s name so the conversation started a little rocky.

"Is Abe there…???"

"No, I’m sorry there’s no one here by that name…" puzzled my father listens on.

"Are you sure, is this Mr. Thompson?" My host dad also as puzzled.

"Yes, this is Aves Thompson..."

"Oh, okay Mr. Thompson my name is Denis, your daughter Kristin is living in my home, sir."

"Oh yes, Denis hello."

"Mr. Thompson this evening Kristin went to hospital and she , sir, … Mr. Thompson Kristin had a baby boy early this morning."

My fathers talking to each other for the first time, now both changed and connected forever. 

It would affect each of us in different ways, my mother in America walked in and quit her job to be a full time grandma. My father would have to fight for his baby girl in ways no one should ever have to fight.

I remember the nurse walking in to hand me the phone the moment my parents called, the phone shook in my hand as I listen to my father tell me, "We just need to get you guys home." And there, there it was never a question in my father’s eyes WE were coming home and he would do anything to get us there. With governments watching over my every move I was put under a suicide watch and kept in close proximity to my host mum or a care giver whom all had a calming influence on my attitude at the time. I only remember  crying once in the beginning, moments after my parents first phone call, the nurse came back in to give me the phone saying it was my mom again. Puzzled of why she would be calling again so quickly I said hello and my best friend in the whole world simply said the best words ever… "I just want you guys home."

2 weeks later. Baby boy Thompson wasn’t that any more. With a birth certificate and a passport of a six day old baby, we flew from Brisbane to Sydney to visit the United States Embassy located there. And 3 weeks after his birth, on a day at the end of August in Anchorage, Alaska my mom and dad held for the first time their grandson Aaron Michael Thompson. How we got there was a long trip but one I wouldn’t have done any differently. My host mum took the journey back to America with us and helped me travel with a new born infant, not an easy task.

The story didn’t end there and actually writes itself every single day. I returned back to America only days before starting my Senior year of high school and was stunned to learn the school wanted to refuse my credits from my Australian schooling. Again my dad went to bat for me and I was allowed to use the amount of credits I needed to graduate with my graduating class in May of 1999. Aaron Michael grew up to be a simply amazing kid, strong brave resilient  We were only in Australia for a short time but I want to think he got it from his Australia grandparents, though Aar isn't biologically the first grandchild for my host parents, he arrived before any of my Australian siblings has babies so they simply adopted Aaron Michael so each year on his birthday, and at holidays we receive packages with love and affection from Australia.

My story is unique in some respects but not in others, I was a naïve child and I made some big mistakes but in the end I was given the best gifts in the world.  An extended family and a beautiful child one who shall he ever ask where he came from I’ll have to start at the end to start at the beginning.

Not the Title of my book

Here is the thing about weight loss, I never intended to weigh 350 lbs, nope it wasn’t my dream. Come to think of it, I know, no one whomever said, “Yep, My goal is… OBESITY.” (I’m getting phones calls about that one, for sure)

To that end, obesity isn’t laziness lets clear that one up, right away.

Every day as an obese person I worked to not be, and just like you, and you, and you, Somedays were better than others.

I don’t know that I was ever offended by my own weight. Well, that’s not entirely an accurate statement I was hurt, ridiculed, and shunned for the weight I carried, but that’s the thing it was others not me that were ashamed of my appearance, I actually thought for a “BIG” girl I was pretty cute.

Recently, it was brought to my attention that weight loss should now define my work, but ironically, She never defined me.  And now that she’s gone I have days I forget she was ever here.  Not to be funny but the only thing other then the large amount of skin SHE left behind is peoples curiousity about my journey.

My journey of weight loss isn’t exciting by any means.  A wonderful surgeon in Las Vegas, Nevada two days before Thanksgiving 2002, laparosopically detached 2/3^rd of my stomach and 5 inches of small intestine.  The procedure was met with no complications, I was up and walking to the demand of my NAZI recovery team, Tracey and Robyn with in hours of my procedure. However, within eight weeks I developed a very common complication and was readmitted to have my valve reopened.

Within months of the surgery, the Kristin of before just started to melt away; only weeks after the procedure when I traveled home to be with my family for Christmas my father teared up at the progress I had made in such a short amount of time.  People often ask, when you change so dramatically what do you go through psychologically, A LOT doesn’t beginning to describe it. I was a teenager for the first time at 22 years old, you all have one of me, the “BIG” friend the girl who in a bar is your “Body Guard” the “Protector, that was always me. For the first time I needed protecting.

And in 2003, I started over with this new lease and new outlook; I lost many friends those first few years, some were over people upset that I was now worth competing for, others because they thought I had “CHANGED” I was selfish and conceded in their opinion. Honestly, I think the friendships hurt more than any Bullying I experienced in my youth.  These were people I had known for years and then it was all my fault no support, no congratulations, pure hate.

There were days, and weeks and even a month or so where I dreamt of going back, to being invisible in the crowded room asking questions like: What if I hadn’t changed? Why did I think this would make things better? Would I have been better off another way?

Well, not changing was never an option at 350 lbs. my young son needed a Mother and if I didn’t do something quick he was going to parentless. Well, and things did get better! In 2003, I found the love of my life, Nicholas. To his benefit, he knows nothing of whom I was before the surgery but he owns my condition like a badge of honor. I say “Condition” to clarify and say remember when I said Obesity is hard, well, Gastric Bypass is harder. 

Gastric Bypass changes your life both in the short term and the long term, but under the watchful eye of doctors and psychologists, Nicholas and I brought our son, Logan in to the world in 2005. We were told by the best in the medical field that the pregnancy at least would be difficult not to mention risky. And on top of the insurmountable fear that my brand new baby would have the conditions which caused my obesity, the pregnancy put a great strain on our whole family. 

After Logan’s birth my health began to spiral out of control. Whether it was simply a need to control what had been out of control my whole life or a number of other factors, I was diagnosed with constant reoccurring severe anemia. I will admit nothing prepared us for the health battles we have been up against since, it hasn’t been easy.  Nic is the keeper of meds and hospital stays and he knows “American President,” is the only movie I want to watch when I’m having a rough day and half the time he knows before I do that we are gonna have a bad day.

I would say my anemia doesn’t bother me every day, but I would be lying.  Many days are worse than others but go back to the question I asked not so long ago, Why did I think it would get better????  Oh my gosh, because it did.

This condition and body won’t slow me down and weight loss as much as it is a Chapter it isn’t the Title of my book.

It won’t ever go away, it will always come up when I see someone after a long absence or when a new person asked, “So, what does 125 mean?” Referring to the tattoo that adorns my foot, my goal weight loss reached all those years ago. When asked I always say the same thing, “I carry her with me wherever I go.” Again, NOT, to write the whole story but to be part of every chapter.

Why don't you want to ask me????

Please ask me, don't be discouraged, just ask. What am I referring too? Well, in the last few weeks and months I have changed not dramatically but in very sudtle almost what to me seem microscopic ways. You say Kristin, what has changed. Well, I LOST WEIGHT. Yep, I said it. And gosh darn it I'm proud of it. On a great journey of self discovery, reevaluating friendships, doing an internal review of my operating systems and knowing that life is brilliantly short and illness or stupidity will only shorten what I have.

Now this is all came up because of a conversation today as I was at my son's school, let me say, I have been there a 1,000 times and after 9 years of kids schooling there I know, to say the least, a few people that work at the school.  Well, this morning, I was remanded to the Principal's couch to wait as I had a matter to discuss with her.  While sitting there numerous staff walked past, smiling and nodding that, "DARN it, I'm suppose to know her," Look. I smiled back with all the smile I have and thought nothing of it. 

The nurse, I literally have none since my teenager was a pup, walked up and said, "Aren't you Logan's Mom?" I said, "Yes, Nurse P." Puzzled as over the years I have spent more time in her office then I haven't. And she paused not sure what to make her next move, "Have you lost weight?" "No, really." "Have you lost weight?" As the secretary stood to say, "Yeah, I was wondering the same thing." I smiled and said, "Well, yes thank you." We spoke for a few more minutes about my weight loss and the run for Mrs. Alaska United States and they were off. But in the few minutes of our conversation it dawned on me, they had been standing in the nurses office for 4 or 5 minutes discussing if I really was my son's mother and what had changed. 

Needless to say this isn't the first time, THIS exact conversation has taken place recently. It has actually occurred more times then not, and everyone gets that puzzled look like, wait somethings different. Not good different, not bad different just different. I know why people are scared to ask, but really STARING is RUDE!

So I guess my point is, ASK me? Yes, in the last 10 years I have lost 160 pounds, In the last 12 months, do to hard work and a little bit of not so good luck I have lost 40 or so pounds. I have grown into what my dad would hate to hear, A HOTTIE.  I was at an event recently and someone said, "Do you know, how incredibly beautiful you are?" I smiled and said gracefully, "Thank you but no." Cause I know I'm ok, but I see myself at night I don't take a shower in the dark and hanging chads have nothing on things that should not be where they are.(Please someone say they got that joke) 

And really, when you ask, if I look at you like you have a third eye ball, please don't think its because I'm offended. But to me the changes in my body and face and structure are again microscopic and why would anyone notice.  I do appreciate all of it, your heartfelt joy for me in my successes and your down right bummed outness when I don't make my own goals. But this is me, proud, strong, courageous in knowing I have NO idea about the world at hand But I'm certainly going to try and figure it out.