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Trust me, I'm a doctor.

I have awful body image. I shouldn't, really, but I can't help it. My grandparents used to tell me about what a chubby little baby I was. "You used to be a real chubby baby," they say. "But look at you! You've shot up and slimmed up!" For years they've been telling me things like that. "You and your cousin both used to be chubby babies." They say.

"But you got real slim."

And I'm terrified of the day my metabolism slows down. Or the day I look in the mirror and can't see my ribs anymore. I don't ever want to gain weight. Or flab. Or pudge. I just want to be skinny as hell, safely below 150 pounds. It bothers people, I think. They think it's just part of the whole being an asshole thing. But no.

It's legitimate vanity and narcissism.

I was crossing the street the other day trying to get to the bank. A girl walked up to me, trying to hand out books of coupons for businesses around campus. "Would you like some coupons?" She asked. "Sure," I said, since I don't know how to say no to people like that. I took the book from her and she flashed me a big smile. She had braces. As reflex, I think, after months of conditioning I threw out a line.

"Aren't you a little old for braces?"

I smiled back, showing mine. She frowned. "No." She said. She turned and tried handing out coupons to other pedestrians. Unsure how to follow up such a catastrophic failure, I continued on my way. God damn you, Dr. Gallagher. I'll never use one of your pick-up lines again.

Comments

Carolynn said…
Heh heh heh. Nice try, wise guy.
October 24, 2011 at 11:08 AM
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