What Dr. P said

She didn’t mince words.  She commented on my weight/appearance right away:

“You look sick.”

“You look emaciated.”

“You look gross.”

“You look like you just came out of Auschwitz.”

When she said, “You look gross,” I put my head down and giggled.  She asked me why I was laughing. She said that this was an unusual response.  I said, “No one ever said that to me before.”

She said, “Why is your voice like that?”  I realized that I was speaking in a tiny voice.

I don’t recall my response to this question.

I don’t know if her comments were rude, or if she was trying to wake me up.  Once, Dr. P said to me, “People stare at you, you know.”  So this kind of comment has come from her lips before.

If anyone else had said it, I would have been shocked.

Or maybe not.

When people say anything, anything at all about my weight, I feel like saying back to them, “Keep your comments off my body.”  My T thought that was a great thing to say.  My ex-neighbors, when I see them, talk about my weight every time.  Every time.  Geez.  I know it’s out of concern, but I really, really am sick of hearing it.

Just yesterday–actually, I think it was the day before–I overheard my current neighbors saying, “She’s so ugly!

Another thing Dr. P said was that she was driving home from work one day and saw someone that was obviously anorexic walking a dog.  She drove closer, and saw that the woman was me!  I asked her if she got a good look at Puzzle, and if I looked happy to be walking Puzzle.  Dr. P said that she didn’t pay attention to these things.  She said she was alarmed that it was one of her patients.

I don’t know how I feel about Dr. P’s remarks about my weight.  They were blunt.  I recognize that I am extremely thin.  I see my reflection in windows.  I make no attempt to hide my thinness anymore.  If my appearance makes people feel uncomfortable, well, so be it.  I don’t think it does.  People are too busy texting to think too hard about the skinny lady walking a dog that they see twice a day zooming around town.

I admit it.  I admit that I like looking anorexia.  I admit that I don’t want to change.  Even looking “gross” won’t change my mind, Dr. P.

I have never been one to care about my physical appearance.  One of my father’s biggest gripes about me was that I never cared for my hair.  It was a “rat’s nest.”  I always thought my mind was more important.  Well, ended up losing my mind….

I don’t know what to tell you, Dad.  You never understood my eating disorder.   Usually, you simply didn’t notice the weight changes.  When you did, you thought something was wrong with my metabolism.

Mom, you look at me and you don’t see it.

Brothers, you are mistaken and you think I’m doing great.

Last night, I cried while doing the dishes, wondering what would happen to Puzzle if she outlived me.  I thought I might want to contact the vet, or ask the vet when Puzzle has her shots in August, what kind of arrangements people make for their dogs if they don’t know anyone who can take care of their dogs “just in case something happens.”  I have vague instructions written in my refrigerator for her care.  These instructions are too vague.  I am 53 years old.  Puzzle is 4-1/2.  One of us is healthier than the other. One of us is normal weight: 15.1 pounds.

One of us could live many, many more years if only she would EAT.

It’s just so hard right now.


Feedback and comments welcome!