Vintage Bloggess: A letter to the doctor with the fat-chick fetish

And by vintage we don’t mean “exactly what you think of when you think of Jenny The Bloggess“, we mean “really, really old stuff from Jenny The Bloggess”.  Which means we can charge you a lot for it and your friends will be really impressed, even though they would not be impressed if you just called it archive Bloggess.  Your friends are snooty, apparently.

At any rate, please enjoy this Vintage Bloggess while Regular Jenny is supposed to be finishing her book - which we have all sworn to buy the day it comes out.

Dear Dr. G,

I just wanted to clarify some things we discussed at my last appointment:

1.  You rock.

2. The drugs you’ve given me for my anxiety disorder have helped me to live a normal life again.

3.  My ass has exploded.

I know what you’re going to say.  “But Jenny, you delicious freak, you are a perfectly normal weight.  Plus I love me some fat chicks.  Rowr.  Here, have a fried twinkie.”

But here’s the deal:

I DON’T WANT TO LOOK NORMAL.  I WANT TO LOOK HOT.

Yes, you’re right that I’m a nervous anorexic and that when I get anxious I stop eating and yes, I suppose my weight gain is a sign that I’m getting better and enjoying eating again, but at what cost?  I’ve gained almost 10 pounds in the last year.  I’m all about better living through chemistry but I can’t help noticing that I looked hotter when I was crazy.

Perhaps you meant it as a compliment when you said I wasn’t fat enough for diet pills but it sounded like a dare.  A dare to see just how fat I can get.  And let me tell you, I’m pretty sure I can get crazy-fat.  Shut-in, wash-yourself-with-a-towel-on-the-end-of-a-yardstick fat.  And when I’m scary, bed-sore, cupcakes-stuck-in-the-folds-of-my-fat fat and they have to use a crane to get me out of the house I’m going to tell Maury Povich that I got this way because you said it was the only way that I could get the medical attention that I desperately need.  And it’s going to be really hard for you to respond to that, especially when I “accidentally” knock you to the floor with my giant butt-cheek.

I can’t help but think that if I could have flashed a little boobage you’d’ve slipped me some phen-phen.  I had planned to flash you in the exam room but your nurse was all “Oh no, Mrs. Lawson, you don’t have to get undressed.  No one needs to see that gi-normous ass of yours” and no, she didn’t say it out loud, but she was totally thinking it.  If I was 15 pounds lighter I bet she would have had me undress.  Slowly probably.  And she would’ve asked me to walk around naked in the lobby to show your other patients what a real patient looks like.  And I totally would have.  Because I care about helping people, unlike some doctor’s who obviously don’t give a shit about their patients or their asses.

Originally posted at TheBloggess.com on June 25, 2007.