You probably won’t believe it. What happened today. As if the haunting thought of being weighed isn’t scary enough, being almost carried to the scale just about did me in.
As I sit here, I am in so much pain from eating.
A whopping half of a tomato and part of a cucumber sit with some feta cheese, and the three of them are planning on how to kill my innards.
So, today. Let me just say, I live in a very small town. It is probably frowned upon to call someone with the title “Dr.” in front of their name an asshole, but it happened, and I will probably continue to do it. Back to the part where I live in a small town. I have known him since I was quite little, he is a family friend. So anyway, today the nutritionist came in. We were talking, she took some vitals and said, “Ok, we need to update your chart. I have to fill in the weight section.” “Um, hell no you’re not going to get me on the scale.” “But I have to put some number in.” “Tough, then put some random number in. Dr. Guy, she is not getting my ass on the scale.”
Dr. Guy: “You are getting tinier and tinier every time I see you.”
—–It continued on like this for about ten minutes. ——
“I’m going to put xxx, even though I know you’re under that.”
“I seriously doubt it.”
“Then let me weigh you.”
At this point, the nutritionist comes over and attempts to pick me up. I shit you not guys! I was enjoying my coffee, she wanted an estimate, and she came over to where I was sitting. I latch my leg under the table, and with the hand that isn’t holding onto my coffee, I cling to the table for dear life.
What the hell is wrong with people. I do not want to be weighed, you are not getting my ass on there. I seriously doubt I am under xxx. This was such a pain in the ass. It should not be such a huge ordeal to weigh me, but it is. I don’t want to know because I will just feel like a fat lard.
I texted my best friend about this because it was a very triggering morning, “Yeah xxx is probably an over estimate, I’d say more like xxx-10..tops.”
“You aren’t helping. Thanks a heap.”