You may recall the “incident” when I went to a new doctor in Boston in mid-May, and peeked at my weight. I felt relieved at that time, because it wasn’t as high as my catastrophic-thinking-mind had thought it’d be.
Now a little less than four months later it was time to go back to the doctor yesterday morning and check in. And as much as I tried not to look at the scale, I caught a glimpse of my weight on the computer screen after the physician’s assistant had typed it in – and I felt my heart drop into my stomach.
Five pounds. That is how much higher the weight was, after a little less than four months.
The doctor came in and, while looking over my vitals, commented that my weight looked good. I gave a little snort and she looked at me inquisitively. I said I didn’t feel that it looked that good and she said to me, “Well, you gained weight. Now you’re at the low end of normal BMI. And to be honest, you look better now than you did when I first saw you.”
But I didn’t really care about any of that and none of it made me feel better. The thoughts in my mind told me that the best looking people are not a normal BMI, they are a lower BMI. They have less body fat than what is “healthy”. It’s often hard for me to take compliments that I look “better” or “healthy” or “good” because to me that just screams “NOT SKINNY”.
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