Two years ago, while I was still on The View, a lady from Georgia wrote me a letter that took me to task for not "being there" for her as she faced her own health crisis. After I left The View, many women told me they felt empowered by my honesty over having been fired—but wished I was willing to be as honest about my weight loss. They were right: Gastric bypass surgery saved my life, and though I still believe wholeheartedly that health decisions are private and should remain between a doctor and his patient, keeping this decision private started to feel hypocritical and cumbersome. I couldn't justify it any longer.
In fact, true freedom and healing started to come when I began to talk about my surgery with strangers, around the time I left The View. I talked openly to people at the airport, to my taxi driver, to women in my exercise class, even to women in the middle of Target while shopping. We talked about my gastric bypass, their lap-band surgery, my breast lift and the loose skin some of us were dealing with. At first, I was terrified someone would sell me out to the tabloids, but as I began to trust the lessons I was learning about not being able to control everything, I was able to relax. And guess what? No one ever shared my story. How ironic: I was hell-bent on keeping the specifics of my weight loss private in an effort to maintain control—yet talking about my weight loss finally gave me the control I'd hungered for.
In January 2007, I opened up Glamour to find a story called, "What No One Tells You About Weight Loss Surgery." They printed a photo of me with a caption that said, "Star Jones Reynolds said only that doctors intervened.'" I put a mental bookmark on the article, determined to one day have the courage to explain why I'd decided to remain private about my surgery. And here I am.
Gastric bypass is a very serious procedure with its own set of risks. I've been afforded the luxury of consulting numerous doctors, specialists and colleagues who concluded that this surgery was the only way I could regain control of my life. It worked for me, but if you face a similar struggle, you'll have to find what works for you. It isn't an easy fix, and the recovery doesn't end when you come out of anesthesia—that's when the real work begins.
Every day I am learning to let go of my insecurities and acknowledge that I don't have all the answers, which is OK. My journey is far from over. I wish I could tell you that each day I awake renewed and on top of the world. That is not the case. More often than not, I awake cautiously, questioning whether I have the emotional reserves required to get me through the day. Four years later, I have been successful in maintaining a healthy weight and am proud of myself for that. I try to exercise regularly and use the portion control guidelines I was taught when I had the surgery. I'm not saying that in order to be happy, women need to be a certain size, but I am saying that we should all strive to be healthy. I still struggle with trying not to let comments about my body affect me. When I feel myself reverting to that place of insecurity, after a beat (or four), I gather myself, take a deep breath and remember what I know to be true: God did not bring me this far to leave me. I ask anyone who is struggling herself to try standing in the space that has been created for you by being braver today than you were yesterday—that is what I am trying to do every day.
Star Jones is the executive editor and host of the new show, Star Jones, now on Court TV.
