Alarm goes off at 7:00 AM. Starving.
Fasting for a physical is never the most pleasant experience. Not only am I cranky, hungry and sleep deprived during my doctor’s appointment, but I need to be mentally prepared for his condescending opinions about my body. I’ve avoided the scale like the plague since I’ve started lifting. Muscle weighs more than fat, and my waist circumference is decreasing so I’m in the clear right?
My last doctor accused me of lying when I said I only eat whole foods and exercise 6 days a week. He went even further to suggest that my last blood test was improperly conducted since it indicated that my thyroid was fine and dandy. “If what you’re telling me is true, and you eat right, and don’t have a thyroid condition… then why do you weigh so much?”
That was it.
I needed to switch physicians ASAP. I picked some Columbia University grad – probably another guy who will quantitatively value my worth, health and honesty. As we went through the awkward motions of him touching my boobs and seeing me half naked, he rattled off some stats. “Samantha. 5’3″. 160 lbs. Hormones look fine…” What? No pause? No judgement? No lecture? He must not comprehend that according to the BMI chart he is expected to be concerned.
“So do you lift?” These words made me swoon. A wave of relief washed over me and my mental wall protecting my self confidence vanished. He explained that although my weight is high, my body composition looks evenly and healthily distributed. Thank. God.