Doctors, dietitians- We all fear them and their honest facts. Even their waiting rooms are filled with horror. My mother sits next to me with her leg crossed, staring into an old newspaper. It's just us, and the receptionist staring at me with hatred in her eyes. I look at my mother, she smiles at me- just enough to expose her missing tooth. "You're getting old, mom," I tell her. She laughs at me in a rusty voice. "I know honey," she says, sinking back into the newspaper. Her breath stinks of alcohol and nicotine, but that is nothing new.
"Phoebe Jessen?"
A young, blonde, blue-eyed woman enters the waiting room in a long white cloak wearing only one rubber glove. My mother and I walk over to her and shake her hand. "My name is Sally, come on in" she smiles- one of the fake ones- and opens a door to a bright white room.
The first thing I notice- well, the first thing anyone would notice is the big silver scale that fills up half the room. Next to it is a height measure. "If you could take a seat.," Sally says and directs my mother to the cheap plastic chair beside the sink. I sit down on the chair next to her.
"So Phoebe." Sally begins and smiles. "When is your birthday?" She starts typing on her computer. "August 1st." Sally stops typing and puts on a second rubber glove. This one is blue. "Come with me, " she says. "Okay, I need you to stand here- yes- so we can measure your height." I look around and make eye contact with my mother. "A hundred and fifty-three" Sally mumbles and scribbles it into a neatly defined notebook. "Alright, now for weight". I look over at the big, scary scale next to me. Oh, no...I've dreaded this moment for days now. I step onto the scary silver monster, closing my eyes tightly. I do not want to know- but I do- no, I don't. A drop of sweat drips over the top of my crooked nose and just passes my chin before it lands on the blue carpeted floor, it seems so far away- but yet so close.
Sally, the dietitian scribbles my weight down in her notebook. "Okay you can step off now, " she says and looks at my mother with a worried look on her face. My mom stands up from the plastic chair, and Sally approaches her with determination in her steps. She carefully smiles at me and whispers the cold, honest truth to my mother. "Your daughter.-" Sally sighs, "-she's too fat."
My world spins. How can someone say something like that? "What do you mean?" my mother asks. "She's perfect" she adds. Sally sighs. "Her weight is way too high for a girl her age. She's 198lbs." A tiny tear roll down my cheek as I storm out the door, through the waiting room and outside to the parking lot. Tears start to stream uncontrollably down my face, into my lap. My mother follows me out and sits down next to me on the sidewalk. "Honey- you are just perfect," she whispers and pulls out a package of cigarettes. "Of course you can say that- you are like sixty pounds" I cry into my lap. She lights up a cigarette and gives my shoulder a squeeze. "You are perfect just the way you are." - "Why are you even crying?" she asks. "I want to change, mom. I really do. But I don't know what to do" I say, wiping my salty tears off with my cardigan sleeve. "Let's go home baby," she says and gives me a tight hug. "Let's go home."
YOU ARE READING
figure.
Novela Juvenil*TRIGGER WARNING* Read with care. Do not try this at home. I've dreaded this moment for days now. Sally, the dietitian scribbles my weight down in her notebook. "Okay you can step off now" she says, and looks at my mother with a worried look on her...
