I went to see my awful physician today. The evil one who wants me to have a form of gastric bypass that would be irreversible and dangerous. If I lose 15 lbs, I will be 100 lbs even, and that is not good. I look like a Holocaust survivor. I look as though I have anorexia, but I really have a very healthy appetite. I’m just losing weight at an incredible rate, and I don’t know why. This was not a reason for concern for my awful doctor, and he told me not to eat anything today that had calories in it. Um, sure. It was a concern for Doc Mick. He wants me to come in for blood work on Tuesday and what ever I do, eat! I know anyone else would claim they would kill to be at my weight, but I lost it all too quickly. I can pull up my shirt and count ribs. I have skin saggage that would put Roseanne Barr to shame. My entire abdomen looks like a shrunken balloon; wrinkled and deflated. But my primary care physician wants me to lose more weight.

I will admit: I was never a runway model. I will never be one. I don’t want to be one, and I never aspired to be one. I wanted to be healthy and happy, and able-bodied. Is that really too much to ask for?