Welcome back to The Weight Loss Collab! In this deeply personal and inspiring episode, Dr. Dovec opens up like never before, pulling back the curtain on her journey through shame, self-doubt, and ultimately—radical self-acceptance. Recorded live at a groundbreaking retreat, Dr. Dovec shares heartfelt stories of perseverance, from professional setbacks to the confetti-filled highs and vulnerable lows at the grand opening of the Surgical Institute of Central Florida.

You'll hear about friendship, the power of community, and the invisible weight of shame that so many carry—especially in the world of weight loss and bariatric surgery. Dr. Dovec tackles tough topics, from infertility and body image to breaking free from the expectations of others and building a practice that's uniquely her own. Along the way, she offers wisdom on why shedding shame is every bit as important as losing pounds, and how real transformation is rooted in connection and authenticity.

Join us for an episode that's not just about weight loss, but about betting on yourself, defying gravity, and finding the courage to live unapologetically. If you've ever felt held back by shame, this is one episode you won’t want to miss.

Is truly from the heart that I want to share some things

that are deeply personal because I know how vulnerable you

all are to be here today, to fly here, to travel,

to take a Saturday for this. And that's major. And

Laura and I have been really reflecting on that.

So I really want to start with a confession

and I want to start about a night that

many of you were actually at. A lot of my friends

and my family and my Body by Bariatrics team were

at this beautiful night. This was the grand opening of the

Surgical Institute of Central Florida. Many of you were

there last night as well. I poured

an indescribable amount of work and energy and time

and money to get to this moment. It

was everything. It was the building, it was the details. It was a celebration

itself. It was a lot of planning. And for years it was grueling

to really get to what I felt was going to be impossible. But when I

felt that things were so hard, I truly,

I swear to God, I just imagined the night and

cutting that hot pink ribbon on that pink carpet with that pink confetti

hitting my blonde hair. Like I could feel this

moment. And I really use that kind of visual

just to get me through it. And then it came and the confetti went

off perfectly. On cue, the cameras flash. You all

cheered. It was amazing. It looked like the

greatest night of my life. It was picture

perfect. I was surrounded by all of you and

Dr. Lane and everyone here in this room.

So who's Dr. Lane?

Dr. Lane is my partner. She's my dear friend. She is

my true colleague. She worked with me shoulder to shoulder. I love this picture

because it's us. She's witnessed me scream,

crying. She's witnessed me breaking down. She has

witnessed me laughing so hard I have to be silent so that I don't

pee myself. She is just truly

everything to me. And she's helped me through all those breakdowns.

And she's become my family. And her family has become my family.

So this is her family. This is on that night. Her dad was there,

her brother was there, her sister, her soon to be brother

in law, her husband Mike, her stepmom, her mom. Her mom

even helped me pick up my beautiful dress and hers. And we were perfect.

They all came together to witness all the hard work that she had done.

And do you know what I did? I did an acknowledge for that night.

In this moment, I knew exactly that I had forgot

her. I cut the ribbon and I realized I didn't say

anything about Diana.

And as that Ribbon fell. I felt that shame. You know, that

feeling, like when everything goes kind of like

those closes in on you and you feel like, oh, my

God, I'm smiling, I'm happy. Oh, my God. Thank you.

But on inside, you're kind of like, spiraling. Like, how do I do damage control

on this? Like, how do I fix this? Like, oh, my God. Her whole family's

there seeing this, and it looked like

I was losing my mind, and

everyone noticed, and I tried to

make it right, and Diana was super cool about it, and. And then later that

night, I saw that that moment was posted on Facebook. Somebody did a

Facebook live of the night, and the comments rolled

in, and the first comment was,

did she mention Dr. Lane?

No, she did not. And then, guys, if

you ever really want to hurt somebody, just insert this emoji. In

particular, I just want to be clear that this emoji

will really mess you up, because that is what

I would describe as the shame emoji. It's called a pensive face. I've looked it

up. But I will tell you that that's not pensive. That's shame

right there in that emoji. And I was

reliving it again, over and over again with that moment.

Diana forgave me. But me, I carried it

along with me. Obviously, clearly, here, I'm still carrying it with me long after the

confetti was swept away. But that's what shame does. It

ruins what was beautiful. It rewrites the story so all you

can see is your failure. And if you let it, shame seeps

into everything. Your work, your relationships, the way that you see

yourself. Think of your confetti moment. I

know you all have one. That time when everything looked great. But inside, you were

drowning in shame. You're not alone in

that. Clearly, for many of you, shame shows up in your body.

The mirror, the room where you feel visible, or even worse,

invisible. Shame whispers, if you were just

smaller, if you were better, more, then you'd be worthy.

And so you chase that goal weight, thinking once you

hit it, shame will finally release its grip.

Everything will be happy. But the goal weight is really just never the goal.

That's why we're all here today. Because shame does not disappear

when you shrink your body. It just finds new ways to

remind you that you're still just not enough.

Shame has made my body feel like it was a traitor, too.

And for me, that was infertility.

Years of needles, shots piled on surgeries,

medications piled on prayers. My Life ran in

28 day cycles of Fragile hope and crushing

disappointment. And I would ask myself, why me? Why do I have to deal

with this? Why? I don't have time for this. And I was

a surgeon. I'm saving lives. I'm doing so much great work.

I'm super successful. I work hard and I get results. That's how

this works. But it didn't work. It whispered, you're broken.

Still not enough. But isn't that how obesity feels?

It's unfair. It's isolating. Other people

just don't get it. They look at you and assume you're

weak. You don't try hard enough. You don't have willpower.

You've been fighting harder than anyone could ever imagine.

And I've witnessed that over and over again with every

patient encounter that I have.

But guess what? There are happy endings.

Here's what is true. After the pain, after the ivf,

after the heartbreak, there can come three beautiful babies. And

I know that if you let it, your journey is so

beautiful, too. Aren't we so thankful for the hardship to make

us really appreciate what we have?

This picture got me in a lot of trouble back in the day. Yes, I'm

naked. I am naked. If you're listening to this online, that's me naked

now. I strategically have my babies covering all my

privates. And, you know, I feel

like this picture is just the purest picture I've ever

taken. And in it, you can still see a little bit of shame,

though. You still see how it twists that story into

weakness instead of resilience. That's the lie. Shame. It

blinds you to your flight, your courage and your grit.

Shame started early for me. That's me.

I know. I grew up in a steel town in a small

little town in West Virginia. I was tall. Super

tall. I'm awkward. I was shy. Not pictured as my rat tail.

Yes, I had a rat tail. I'll never forget being

in my dancing school performance, and

I was dancing away, dancing my heart off. And I

realized, man, I am so far stage

right. I'm not even on the stage because I'm seeing curtain.

If I'm seeing curtain, no one's seeing me. So I'm off stage,

literally, and everyone's dancing together. And there I was, dancing

alone in the dark. Don't you just want to hug this girl?

Yes. But that's what shame does. It makes you feel like you don't

belong, like you're always out of step. You're always

out of. Off to the side, not enough. Raise your hand if

you've ever Felt like the awkward ones. The

outsider, the one dancing off stage.

Look around. Clearly every hand went up. You are not alone.

But here's where we get real. Most of us treat

shame like a toxic love affair.

We replay the insults over and over. We relive the criticism.

We scroll through that side eye emoji, the pensive face, and imagine the

narrative. We tuck shame into bed with us at night like

some twisted companion. But shame does not love you.

Shame has never loved you. Shame is a thief. It

has stole your joy, your confidence, your dreams. It shrinks

you down to the size of your worst mistake. The

only way to break free from shame is to stop letting it be the mistress

you keep going back to. Walk away from it

unapologetically and fall in love with

yourself. Speaking of love, I fell

in love with surgery. I did. It was love at first sight. And when I

told people at home, at West Virginia, it was like, what?

You want to be a surgeon? Are you sure? Don't you want to be a

mother? A wife? Why would you want to do that?

And I was the only person, male or female, in my

graduating class at Marshall University in Southern Huntington,

West Virginia, that went into general surgery. Because

it was brutal. Because it didn't make sense. Because

why would you do that for yourself? Why did we sign up for that, Diana?

I don't know. And I cried. I cried a lot with that decision.

But surgery had my heart. And if you've ever loved something, you know it

doesn't always make sense. But you just can't walk away with

it. Each specialty calls you in a certain way. Some people said, go

with OBGYN, do PEDs, but. But do something more

manageable. But all I knew was what I wanted. And I was

willing to claim the shame of being too much to get it at all

costs. Have you ever been screamed at?

Like screamed at? But that's what we were

conditioned to do. You better not flinch. You better lean in.

Residency was 5 years of 80 plus hour work weeks, 30

plus hour shift cases. I had no interested in

traumas at three in the morning. It was exhaustion layered on humiliation.

Because there are always people ready to scream at you.

I was not perfect. My God, not even close. And

still I stayed for the bigger picture. God, this is it

right here. Then came my fellowship at Vanderbilt. The Harvard of

the South. Enter bow tie wearing southern

gentlemen of surgery. They were great, but they were intimidating.

And there was little old me. I got an incredible education.

It was mental warfare, though. Every day was a battle between proving

I belong and Secretly believing I did not. Passing my

written board, sitting for my oral boards, fighting through the constant

inferiority. It's all shame. And then

came the next hardest chapter of my life. My big girl

job. I moved to Baltimore, Maryland, and I had

a job that was 100% bariatrics.

This surgeon was my partner. His name is Dr. Peter Liao.

He was already there for a few years, and he was the medical director.

They were doing a couple of hundred cases a year, and I was entering into

his world. Back then, you did not get cases by going on

Instagram or Facebook or TikTok. You had to go into a

dimly lit hospital conference room and give an information

session. At the end of it, there was old pad and paper you would sign

up for a consultation. So I knew I needed to convince

my patients and most importantly, my myself, that

I could do this. And I'm confident. I've trained for seven years.

Let's go. I go into this. I practice my presentation.

I even read books on how to deliver a TED Talk. The room was packed.

It was standing room only. You could feel the excitement in the room.

Who's this new surgeon? Angie's a girl. This is great. Dr.

Liao introduced me that night. He came in

and he said, hello. This is my partner, Dr. Betsy

Dovik. She just finished her fellowship. She's never done

one of these on her own before. Who's going to be our first

victim?

Victim? I felt shame. Punched to the

gut, out of body, spiraling. I stumbled over my slides. I was awful. I

admittedly was terrible, as you can imagine,

when I walked out of the room. Thank you for coming. Everyone kind of walked

out. Thank you. Great to meet you. I looked over at the pages.

There were zero signups for me. And I kind

of got tears in my eyes. And I was like, no, you're not feeling bad

for yourself. This is gonna be harder than you imagined. We're just getting started.

Let's lean in. I looked at those papers, and you know what I did that

night? One of the best things happened to me in my career and in my

life because it stripped away the illusion. It forced me to

face the truth. Patients don't care about your PowerPoints. You guys don't

care about my pedigree. You don't care where I trained.

You wanted someone that was real. That got you, that showed up

authentically. Otherwise, it wasn't going to work. So I

stopped trying to do what someone told me to do. I

stopped standing behind men

on platforms. I met patients where they were. I went to the

gym. I worked out with them. I started a couch to 5K. I walked with

you. I went to support groups. I sat with them in consultations,

which ultimately became virtual. And I listened to their stories and I

understood their shame.

And that's where everything shifted. Because shame is the great

connector patients feel. I understood theirs because I

had my own.

More confetti. Almost a decade later, I was

recruited to Florida, to a very large health system.

Again, there's lots of confetti. There was

celebration. There was a promise of great success,

a long term career. I'm going to retire here. And for a while,

it worked. But behind the confetti there was

a message. You're too loud. You're

too much. Tone it down. Don't show your shoulder. That

earring's a little too low. Beyond your earlobe. Wear this. Don't post

that. Think smaller. Act differently.

It reminded me of Wicked, the Musical. You know, that

part at the end, defying gravity? Well, it all

comes because everybody here has a wizard. The

wizard is the voice of authority. The one that tells you, this

is how the world works. Get in your lane.

This is the truth. Do what I say, and

then you will be worthy and belong.

And for a long time, even Elphaba believed it.

Because when someone with power tells you something,

it's easy to think that it is true. For me, the

wizard looked a lot like a health system. They told me

what lane to be in and how I should practice and how I should dream.

And I believed them. For a while. Just because someone told me so, I

thought it must be right. But the truth is,

the wizard never has your interest at heart. The wizard represents

control, conformity, belief in the system to keep you

small. And that's where shame sneaks in.

Shame is the wizard's favorite tool. Don't stand out.

Don't speak up. Don't question. Stay quiet. Stay small. And then you

will belong. But then there's that moment to find gravity.

Elphaba chooses not to believe in the wizard anymore. She decides to

rise, to fly, to go against the grain. And yes, it is terrifying.

It's lonely. It costs her

relationships. Ask me how I know. Because when

Glinda and Elphaba's priorities start to shift and diverge, their bond

does change. And that's real life, too. When you decide to stop

shrinking, when you defy the wizard in your own world, some

people won't come with you. And that hurts.

Have you ever mourned for something that's still alive? Have you

ever grieved Something that's still there, that you see,

people that you love, that never would answer the phone again.

Yes. But imagination, imagining it forwarded, is the

spark that can help you fly anyway. Even when

you're so unsure and scared to. Am I crazy? I quit this job.

What? You picture a different kind of life. You picture yourself free.

And even if it feels lonely, even if the narrative

is not correct, you must stay firm in what you

know is right. Because before you can have any

meaningful relationship with anyone around you, you must

first fall in love with yourself. And that's what defying

gravity really is. Not floating above the world, but refusing to live

below your own worth. I tried. But the truth is I

can't be caged. I can't be shamed

into shrinking. Because shame isn't a way to live.

And that's how Body by Bariatrics was born.

Thank you.

It's not out of perfection. It's out of failure. A failure,

rejection, shame. It's too heavy to carry. So I let it go.

Now the risks are higher, so much higher. But the shame. You know what?

It's crazy. It's less frequent because I'm

living as me. And when you do, something

else opens up. Friendship.

Adult friendships are complicated too, aren't they?

But they're also life saving. They're built on

proximity, timing and energy and summer for a season.

Some are for a reason, some are for a lifetime. And some

are just for a retreat. The power of friendships

cannot be underestimated. They hold us when we are

ashamed. They remind us who we are when we have forgotten. They reflect

back our worth when we cannot see it for ourselves.

There's a book Mel Robbins just wrote called Let Them. And she

broke down these elements of friendship so well. And

I think it's so applicable to this group and this community. Number one is

proximity. Do you see this person often? Do you live

near them? Do you work with them? It matters. Proximity. Seeing them

every day equals connection. Until it doesn't. When they move away, sometimes

their friendship goes away. And suddenly that shifts. And that's hard.

Number two is energy. You either click with somebody or you don't. You love their

personality, their values, their quirks, or you don't. And the magic of true friendship is

when that energy coincides. And number three, Era.

What stage of life are you in if you're in your 20s and dating,

or if you're someone who's going through perimenopause?

Well, you're in different parts of life, but

if you have good energy, that's your glue.

I'll never forget one. And here's where bariatric

surgery creates something really rare. It unites

people across all three.

Proximity may not matter anymore. We have a vibrant online community,

energy. You'll click with someone, not with others, and that's okay. But that error piece,

that's the glue, because that is where, whether you're 25 or

75, the area you're in when you're pursuing surgery is the

same. You are standing on the edge of transformation,

and that commonality will bridge all gaps.

I'll never forget one support group. I was in Baltimore, and there

was a patient who was our oldest patient we ever

operated on. She was 85. She was from Greece, and she had lost her

husband, and she was grieving him and a

younger black man from the inner city who was in his 20s. He worked for

the Maryland Transit Authority. He stood up and he hugged her, and these

two became friends for the rest of her life. And

I thought, that's the gift. That's what we get out of

obesity. This is the magic. Friendship's not

simple, though. There's jealousy. It sneaks in. You can

see someone with a new car, a new vacation, that new, perfect body,

and we celebrate them. And sometimes you still think, why not me? Why is

shame piling on? I don't want to feel this way. But here's the truth.

Jealousy is a breadcrumb. It's not about them. It's about

you. And it's pointing towards something you want, you

crave, but you haven't yet given your permission to chase

it. So you're standing on the edge of the cliff. I'm telling you to

jump. My moment happened on this day

a few years ago in Miami, Florida. I was

one of nine surgeons that was chosen to be part

of a prestigious advisory board. We were the top,

I believe, eight surgeons, actually, in the entire

United States. We're the highest performing bariatric surgeons in

the country. And I sat on this advisory board, and you can

see one thing's not like the others.

There are seven men,

one woman. There are seven

private practicing businessmen, and

one hospital employed woman living

someone else's dream.

After I left, that conference shook me. It pissed me off.

It enraged me because I had the best ideas there.

I did. And I knew it. They knew it. They would never tell me, but

they knew it. And that table wasn't built for me.

Some whispered shame came in. You don't

belong here.

And what did that feel like? How does it feel to be

underestimated? Well, I let it light a fire, and

things started to move. Hey, guys, Spoiler. It turns

out I'm the best businessman after all, doesn't it?

I built this little humble abode that we could have a little

space to really just put the vision into motion.

And there's going to be heartache because you build this and you have

people close in your life. Where's the cheering? Where's the support?

Sometimes the people you expect to cheer the loudest are

silent. Sometimes the people who should support

you the most are the ones who shame you, criticize you, try to keep

you trapped, and meanwhile, a stranger on the Internet

is clapping the loudest, rooting for you fiercely,

more than your innermost circle. And that's the

paradox of adult relationships. They can lift you up or

they can cut you down. They can be lifelong, seasonal, fleeting.

And sometimes the most transformational connection you'll ever

have comes from a gathering just like this.

But here's what I learned, my friend. Shame thrives in isolation.

It dies in connection. Friendship. True friendship built

on that proximity, energy and era is one of the most powerful

antidotes to shame. And here's the paradox.

Sometimes the people who should support you the most, they don't.

But I know that you support me. And I support you.

My patience. Many of you have slipped into my DMs a time or

two over the years. You have become so much more

than patience. You become my true friends,

witnesses, partners in my journey. I'm going through it as much as you are.

And whether you know it or not, you've seen me publicly walk a

tough road. It hasn't been easy. You know that

moving from the security of the hospital employee structure to being in a private

practice is uneasy. Life as I knew it was ripped

up for me. Did I just burn it all to the

ground for nothing? Or am I going to be able to build

this up better than ever? You've told people

about me. You've trusted in me to perform an operation which is always

going to be the most humbling opportunity you could ever give to

another human being. That you trust me with your life.

And here we are. Right here, right now.

This retreat is a first. This has never been done

anything like it. Laura came with this idea, and I said we need

to do it. This is the first ever that we're not talking about diet plans.

I love you, Hannah, but we're not. We're not talking about our surgical

techniques, what size bougie and sizing tube to use. We're

working on some mindset. We're working on shame on

the hardest, heaviest, most untalked about part of this journey.

And we sewed out because you trusted me.

You trusted her, you trusted us, you trusted Laura. You

trusted us to bring you value. And my

deepest hope is that when you walk away today, you will feel

changed. That you'll feel lighter, not because you've lost

pounds, but because you are shedding shame.

That's what makes this community so rare.

It transcends all usual rules. It's as powerful as we

go. And here's where I am now.

I'm living my dream. Body, by bariatrics,

is me. It's not someone else's system, someone else's table.

It is mine. It's practicing medicine the way I want to. Intimate,

connected, fun, and freaking pink. Yes.

It's not checking boxes. It's risky, yes.

But I'm living authentically. And when you stop shrinking to fit

someone else, you have so much room to grow. You

are enough. I am enough. You've

proven you can do hard things. As I always say at the consults, as does

Dr. Lane. You hop up on that or table and you wake up on a

mission. Right, Darrell? Hell, yeah. I mean, you do, and you hop off of that

table and you're doing hard work. The surgery is, as Hannah says,

the most un. Interesting part of your journey is

the mind. Is there. Well, it's a minor part.

It becomes because you're so much more than just this one sliver of

life. And that. That brings me back to wicked.

Because defying gravity isn't about Elphaba flying.

It's about deciding not to let that wizard or shame

defy her anymore. It's about breaking away from the

voices that you're too much or not enough. It's about saying, I'd rather

fly solo and stay grounded in a life that

does not belong to me. It's terrifying. It's lonely. But

it's also freedom. And I wanna invite you to have that moment with me. I

want you to feel the words about what we're about to do. I want you

to feel uninhibited, like you're in the car, flying down i4

windows down, cranking, defying gravity on the highest level.

As Laura has said, when we were creating this, there is this calmness

that comes over people in this room, this community, when

they're with each other. Because these are my people.

They get it. They feel it. I can be myself. And when you are

with your people, when you stop apologizing for who you are, when

you let yourself imagine it forward into a scarier, freer future,

then you, too, will be defying gravity. And so, here we go. At the edge

of it all, Shame has had her say.

She has stolen enough. She has whispered lies long enough. But

today, in this room, in this retreat, we are not whispering back. We are roaring.

And that is what defying gravity is all about. It's not Elphaba flying. It's the

sound of a woman finally betting on herself

so hard that she cannot be contained. It is

animalistic. It is spiritual. It is

a primal scream that says, I will burn it

down because I know I can build it back up in the most

ferociously fabulous way. I'm done playing small. I'm done

playing shamed. I. I am being. I am betting on me. And

in this moment, you're gonna hear this last note, the note that

rattles your bones, that note that feels

like it is pulled from the center of the earth. And as you hear it,

I wanna ask yourself, what would it be like to bet on myself

like that? To go fully all in, almost feeling

impossible, Magical. Like I'm defying gravity. Imagine it up

above the clouds, the window, your face, the wind in your hair,

turbocharged broomstick under you, kicking ass, taking

names. Finally free. And when you look around here, you see all your

people. The ones that have always stood by you. Like Dr.

Diana Lane. I can say it now. And Hannah and

Amber and Laura and Jen and so many others. You see your community. You

realize we ride together. This isn't solo. This is family. This is community.

My friends, we ride at dawn. And when you look around here,

you see your people. You see the ones. And you know you can say it

with me, Shame. Bye, bitch. And with that,

let's defy some gravity.

Sa.

Thank you.