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The Fear

I had a total meltdown last night.  Some of it was triggered by the usual stress (I just got back from a wonderful trip to SF, and I'm homesick and worried about catching up with work, and I had a massively important writing deadline yesterday), but mostly it was about the doctor's appointment I have tomorrow.  And the weigh-in that awaits me there.

I know I've ranted about doctors before.  And I've told you about this one, specifically.  The short story is that if my BMI goes up one more point I'll be cut off from using Nuvaring, which is the only form of hormonal birth control I've ever tried that hasn't made me feel crazy and disinterested in sex.  So I booked this appointment last month, making sure to make it for a day when I was unlikely to be PMSing and likely to be writing at home instead of in the office.  But I didn't factor in the vacation beforehand; suffice it to say, my weight is not low enough that I feel totally confident strutting in there and coming out with a prescription in hand.  It's not above the line, but it's within 5 pounds, which for me is basically on it since I gain/lose 5 pounds randomly by the hour.

But I'm getting away from the point.  The important thing about last night's meltdown was the way I reacted to this stress: I was finally honest about it.  I wasn't angry or righteously indignant.  I wasn't just stressed out about my weight.  I was terrified.

I'm terrified of doctors.  And I'm terrified that I'll never not be terrified of them.  After all those years of being obese and dreading doctor's visits because of the weigh-in and inevitable following lecture, after everything I've done to and been through with my body to make it 'healthy' enough to allow me to relax about it, I'm still terrified.  They still weigh me, and they still don't like what they see on the scale.  I still get lectures about losing weight, and sometimes they continue even after I've explained my history and my current lifestyle. 

The thing is, while I'm scared of the lectures and afraid of the shaming and the judgment, what I'm really afraid of is that they might be right.  Maybe I really am still unhealthy?  Obese?  Massively fat and in denial?  If they never change their opinion, if doctors all over the world look at me and think I'm fine, if overweight, and then weigh me and decide I'm obese and need to be shamed, then what is it that I'm missing when I tell myself to ignore the scale and focus on feeling/looking good? 

I believe myself: I should focus on how I feel, not what I weigh.  I also believe them: I'm huge and disgusting and socially unacceptable and I should worry about losing 50 pounds.  I believe us both, and it scares the shit out of me.

I don't want to live my life this way.  With 2 choices: be obsessively dieting / trying to lose weight all the time, or avoid / fear doctors and all other weigh-ins until the day you die.  I also don't want to become schizophrenic as a result of my two minds on the matter.  I just want to be normal.

Wasn't that the point of the surgery in the first place?
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Comments

Sara said…
you're beautiful!! i know that's not really relevant to the doc/bc/etc. problem, but you are, whatever the doc or scales say!
4 May 2011 at 12:48
Anne said…
it may not be relevant, but it's always nice to hear. thanks, sara.
4 May 2011 at 13:07
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