I remember walking into the doctors office and hoping that they didn't weigh me. I mean I just had my third child, shouldn't that count for something? The answer to this was no. It didn't matter that I had just had a baby, that I had eaten that day already, or that I was wearing all my clothes. The doctor wanted to weigh me. He wanted to see if I had lost any weight since Abby was born 3 months earlier.
I remember not looking at the scale. (The scale and I have not been friends as long as I can remember) I just looked at the cute poster of the babies that they had hanging above it.
When the nurse to me to the room to wait for the doctor I remember sitting on the table and just waiting. The doctor popped his head in and asked me to come to his office. His office? why? This was different?
I remember walking into his office and sitting down in a big brown chair. He went behind his desk and sat down as well. He looked me straight in the eyes and asked me if I had a will and testament. I told him that I did. (We decided when one of my best friends died a few years back that it was something that we need to have in case anything happened to either one of us.) He said good, because I was going to need it.
I looked at him like he was crazy. He said that I was killing myself because I was still gaining weight. I had gained 25 pounds since the day that Abby was born. 25 pounds in 3 months??? What?? I was not doing anything I thought that would make this happen. I was not that lazy person on the couch all day... or was I? No I wasn't. I mean I had a baby I was constantly taking care of.
He told me that I was dying and that I would not make it to 35. Excuse me?? I will be 35 in less then 10 years? I never thought I was killing myself. I felt fine. Well maybe not fine, but more on that later.
I remember him telling me that he will help all he can but he did not want to be my doctor anymore if I was just going to kill myself. I left mad.... really mad.
How dare this doctor tell me that he didn't want to be my doctor anymore. How dare he make me emotional and yell at me about how I was not being a good mother because I am killing myself. I am a great mother. How dare he.
I remember coming home and talking to my husband about it. He held me when I cried and told me that he loved me but then he said something I will never forget. He told me that he was worried about me and that he didn't want me to die. This shocked me. Only a few years ago it was me worried that he would never come home from the war, and now he was worried that I was killing myself?
I got mad, and honestly I stayed that way for a long time. I decided to change things. I needed an outlet. If I was killing myself so easily that I would choose to change it just as easily. I decided to not 'go on a diet' like I had many times before, but I decided to change my life and in a weird way 'end the life' that I had made for myself.
I decided to try Overeaters Anonymous and go from there. I didn't know where this would lead but getting up the courage was the hardest part. I decided to go to a meeting, even though I talked myself out of it for months.... this was it.... the end of my life as I had made it. It was time for a new life. It was time for a new me.
Katie
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