Same Kind of Different As Me

Dear Doctor Man,

I see you as you sit on your stool, observing my body. Your eyes furrow as you look me up and down, and I’m sure I know what comes next.

You draw it out, slowly, as if talking to a child. You need to “looooose…” and you wait for me to finish the sentence.

“Weight.”  My shoulders slump, did you notice that?

You nod excitedly, “Exactly. There’s just too much of you.”

Too much.

My whole life—that phrase has haunted me. Too fiery, too outspoken, and yet somehow always not enough. You thought it was your duty to tell me, to help the poor ignorant girl across from you, with all your learning and experience {even though my visit has nothing to do with my weight.} I assume that’s why you drew out your words and asked me to finish your sentences like a Kindergartner.

I wonder man of knowledge; did you know what those words would do? How they’d rip right through me and lay me bare? You didn’t know about my eating disorder, about the years of abuse I did to my body that have resulted in consequences I never expected, or how long I’ve struggled to accept this earthly vessel and call it good.

I fear all your degrees have not taught you compassion. Like everyone else, you subscribe to a standard of judgment that sees the outside. To you, I’m merely a woman with a weight problem.  And six months ago that is all I would’ve seen too.

But oh, dear doctor. I’m that woman no longer.  I’m learning {slowly} to call myself good.

And I see you there too. Your struggles, not with weight, but with significance. So eager to give out knowledge, to seem like you have it all together. But I notice a tan line where a wedding ring was, and your eyes, they seem tired. I know the feeling.

So I’ll be kind, because we both have stories to tell. Jesus died to redeem them both. And maybe one day I’ll sit in your office and explain this all to you, and maybe you’ll listen so that the next girl doesn’t hear those words—too much. 

Until then, I take my prescription from your hands and smile.

"Have a good day."   I mean that with all my heart.


  1. What a wonderful post, Alex. I love that you're becoming comfortable with yourself, also that you chose kindness in this situation. What a beautiful soul you have!


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