Light Come Shining

Yesterday I went to the chiropractor. Mr. Khan and I bought a groupon for x-rays, a consultation, a 1-hour message, and an adjustment for only $35. It was a really good deal and my back has been pretty achy lately. So we go in, and the nurse tells me, “sorry, you need to step on the scale so I can get your weight.” I let her know that it was not necessary and that I would not have my weight measured. She rolled her eyes. Then, in the exam room she went to take my blood pressure with what was the smallest blood pressure cuff I’ve ever seen. I knew how this would end. Instead of using common sense, she decided to make sure the cuff didn’t fit. When trying to make it fit on my arm, she exclaimed, “I will have to get a bigger one.” You don’t say? She comes back with the larger cuff and takes my blood pressure. When it came out as normal, she looked puzzled and reread the numbers. Yep. You can be fat and healthy. Imagine that. Then, she put a pair of shorts on the table and told me to put them on for the x-ray and left the room. I held up the shorts. They were no more than an adult medium, at most. I tried to put them on, but the only got to my mid-thigh, so I decided they were either going to have to do my x-ray in my underwear or my jeans. I felt pretty frustrated at that point. Later, the chiropractor came in and never once mentioned anything about not having my weight measurement or the shorts. They took the x-ray with me still in my jeans and didn’t even ask why I didn’t wear the shorts. That was nice.

The whole experience reminded me why I avoid going to see the doctor. It’s not good, but it’s true. I have to work up courage and a layer of thick fucking skin before I can step into the doctor’s office. It’s not the doctors themselves that cause me such anxiety; it’s the nurses. They have to take all of the measurements that cause emotional discomfort and often do so in a way that causes shame and embarrassment. I made a promise to myself a while ago that I would love myself and my body no matter the number on the scale or the size on the tag. I am wonderful, beautiful, deserving of love, and a worthy human. At the doctor’s office, I often find that I get pretty down on myself, and that is not cool. From now on, I think I will make it a point to write a letter to the doctor each time I experience fat shaming practices at their offices. At some point, they will need to address the actions of their employees and hopefully train them how to be more accommodating and kind to their patients.