There is Definitely An "I" in Weight

So to bring you up to speed, my son fell in love and I ended up having to see a doctor. Yep. That about covers it.

The day of my appointment, I braced myself to deal with my phobias. The first was The Scale. Is there anything worse than the scale in the doctor's office? I'm used to being weighed. I weigh myself every morning in my bathroom at home. That scale knows me. It's not my friend, but it knows me. I feel like it has a sense of where it needs to go when I step on it. It's got a starting point, anyway. The doctor's scale doesn't have that. It doesn't know me from Adam.

If I have to be weighed, I want an accurate reading. Accurate meaning the least possible amount that I can get away with. In order to get that, you need to weigh first thing in the morning. First thing in the morning before you eat breakfast. Before you eat breafast, after you go to the bathroom and buck naked if you really want to get down to it. There's no other way to get a truly accurate (re: lowest possible) reading on a scale.

So right away I have issues with The Scale at the doctor's office. My appointment was at 2:00 in the afternoon. Right there we're way past breakfast. And lunch too. And obviously I'm keeping my clothes on. At least until I get into the room with the stirrups, but that's a whole other post. (One you might want to skip, by the way.)

Bottom line is, I know that scale reading is going to be several pounds more than my "true" weight. And if I'm there to talk about my weight problem, how are we going to deal with the issue if we don't have accurate facts to start with?

But that's not my only problem. My other issue is that this doctor is a male. Male doctors have their place. After all, all my children were delivered by male doctors. But can male doctors truly understand female medical issues? And really, isn't weight a female medical issue? Can a male doctor understand the need for chocolate? Or stress eating? Or the fact that I could have used both while waiting for him to come into the examining room?

The doctor finally comes in and introduces himself, and then we discuss my medical history. Then he sits back and says, "Why have you come to see me today?"

I debate giving him a truthful answer:  "My husband made me come." or "My son's getting married." But I've noticed most doctors don't have that much of a sense of humor. "Thank you. I'll be here all week, and don't forget to tip your waitresses."

So I mention some pain in my wrist. His diagnosis is tendonitis brought on by too much typing (oops), and he suggests a brace at night. Which I've already started doing, thanks. Anything else? I mention a few other minor things, easily taken care of. And finally I say I need to lose weight. He smiles, and I almost expect him to say the first step is admitting there's a problem. I want to poke him in the eye.

"So how are we going to get the weight off?" He asks.

We? I've just met the man and we're a team? Why do I doubt this? Maybe because I will struggle on a day to day basis and then show up and have my efforts judged by him next month? I hate accountability. (Hence the lack of dieting results up to that point.)

And why was he asking me what to do anyway? Wasn't I paying him to come up with some miracle cure?

Whose idea was this anyway? To figure that out, click here.