Field Notes Inside an Integrated Communications Agency

I don't like scales. They scare me. Seriously. They scare me so much in fact, that I can't even stand to look at it on the bathroom floor. I hide mine in my closet. But unfortunately, doctors-doctors love scales. They love them so much in fact that they like to put them right in the middle of their office where everyone can see the big numbers that appear when you step on it. Total nightmare.

Last week, I had the privilege of going to visit my lovely "woman" doctor. Never  a happy visit, but this year I would give it the all time worst award. My visit went a little something like this:

Scene: Amy sitting on the examining table reading US Weekly waiting for her doctor who is now twenty minutes late.

Enter doctor.

Doctor apologizes for lateness, gives the usual small talk and starts rattling through my chart.

Doctor: "Well let's see, everything looks good so far. Your blood pressure is great. Hmmm, I'm sorry about the weight."

Silent, awkward, horrible longest pause in the history of the world.

Me: (Face turning as red as a tomato and general look of absolute what the hell?!)  "Excuse me?"

Doctor: (Realizes she has extremely offended me and starts to compensate). "Oh, I don't mean your fat, but you've gained six pounds since last year and we don't want it to keep going up. I mean, it has gone up." Flashes me fake smile.

Me: Well, there are no words.

I stared at the BMI chart on her wall for the duration of my visit. According to her handy dandy chart I'm in a normal weight range and have a healthy BMI. I am not overweight. but somehow when I left her office that day I was on the verge of a panic attack and racking my brain for the quickest way to get rid of those absolutely terrible, horrible no good six pounds. 

What my doctor doesn't know about me is that a few years ago I actually weighed a lot less than I do now. A lot less than my weight six pounds ago. So much less in fact that I was anorexic and was forced to gain weight by my friends and family because they honestly thought I looked like a skinny freak. And I did. I never ate more than half my food in those days regardless of what it was, I skipped meals and drove my mother insane when she tried to feed me at dinner. Going to a restaurant with me was probably the most unpleasant experience you can imagine, and I was an absolute control freak about food. I judged my self worth based on whatever number appeared on the scale. I also weighed myself five to 10 times a day.

I realize it's our doctors' jobs to be concerned about our weight, but my doctor had no concern for my overall health. I workout six days a week and eat healthy 95% of the time. I have abnormally low blood pressure, healthy cholesterol levels and great cardiovascular fitness. I run, lift weight and ride my bike. I also wear smalls and buy a size four. The average woman is a size 12.

Would it really kill health care professionals to have a little bit more compassion? Our health is the most important thing in our lives. But I don't want to be a skinny bitch. I love to workout, but I also like to drink wine and eat ice cream sometimes. It took me a long time to get a healthy attitiude about eating and even longer to embrace the way that I look. My doctor should be praising me for making healthy choices and taking care of myself in a postiive way, not lecturing me for a influx of six pounds. It's especially important when we are bombarded with images of size zero celebrities and women of all ages are suffering from eating disorders. Being skinny doesn't equal being beautiful and I would much rather be what I am now than the unhappy rail that used to. My scale will stay in my closet and me and my six pounds will continue to be very happy together.

 (Also please note: My doctor was at least 20 pounds overweight.)