I'm less than half the woman I used to be, yet I'm twice the woman I ever was. Bariatric surgery helped me to lose almost 200 pounds over the past two years, but the changes I've undergone in that time can't be counted in clothing sizes.

I topped the scales at 335 pounds when I first considered surgical weight loss. I had been morbidly obese almost as long as I could remember, weighing 199 pounds or more since the age of 10.

By the time I was 26, I suffered from high blood pressure, joint pain and water retention. At 5-foot-3, I squeezed myself daily into size 28 outfits that cut into my skin because they were so tight.

I had Roux-en-Y gastric bypass in February 2005, a few months after I turned 27. I entered the operating room at 310 pounds. Today, I hover between 135 and 140. I didn't just lose the equivalent of a whole person; I lost an obese person.

What's more impressive to me than the difference in my weight, though, is the difference in me.

People often ask me whether I am treated differently now. I am. The next question is whether the difference in treatment upsets me. It doesn't. The fact is that I am different.

I am more confident, outgoing and active now than I was when I was morbidly obese. That alone has changed my world and the people I encounter in it.

I had no idea how sick I was until I lost my first 80 pounds, and it no longer hurt to walk. I didn't realize chronic pain wasn't normal until I no longer felt it. Pain is a powerful thing; it had made me cranky without me ever realizing it. As my excess weight melted away, my personality brightened. I became more engaging and social.

Though many consider surgery to be a coward's method of weight loss, I've never worked so hard in my life. This journey has required me to focus on myself and my health for the first time in my life.

I used to consider exercise a luxury I couldn't afford and used that excuse to remain sedentary.
 
I convinced myself that my job was too demanding to allow for planning and cooking my meals, and I often ate fast food daily. I spent many years hiding behind my job, saying that if only it were less stressful, I would have the time needed to lose weight.

Then I was diagnosed with obesity-related infertility after a year of trying to conceive. My weight problem was no longer something I could put off to deal with later when life was less hectic.

It was then that I realized something had to change. I knew bariatric surgery would force me to rethink my priorities. Rerouting one's innards leads to an altered perspective. Suddenly, exercise was a necessity instead of a luxury. Planning my meals was as important as breathing, because protein deficiency would lead to serious complications.

Rest became something upon which I depended. Before surgery, I would sleep two to four hours a night, figuring the time most people spent in bed was better spent at the office or trying to catch up around the house.

Surprisingly, focusing on me and my needs didn't make me lazy or put my job in jeopardy (my biggest fear). These changes have made me more productive. It's amazing how much you can accomplish in a standard day when you're operating on eight hours of sleep and are appropriately nourished and hydrated.

I've gone from working 18-hour days to 10-hour days, and my husband loves the fact that he finally has a wife who comes home at night and has energy left over to devote to him. And most importantly, my weight loss and change in perspective have prepared me for the challenges of motherhood -- something I hope to experience in the near future.

Tonya Luiz is a journalist and surgical weight loss consultant and educator. Her blog, Inside Out, is at http://insideout-tonya.blogspot.com. To reach her, e-mail: tonya@bariatricnetworkassociates.com.