My mom has a therapy appointment scheduled for the following week by the next day. She also scheduled a doctor's appointment in two days.

All I feel is anxiety. I'm shaky all the time, I can't focus, my mind is racing. I hate the doctor. I can't stop thinking about whether or not they'll have me be inpatient. I guess it just depends on my weight and how well I cooperate.

~

The day has come: the doctor's appointment. Sitting in the waiting room with my mom, my foot won't stop tapping, and my hands won't stop shaking. I start to zone out when I hear a young, energetic feminine voice.

"Gwendolynn," the voice calls out.

My necks whips to the direction of the voice. It's time. I stand up and make my way to the woman in the doorway.

"Okay, Gwendolynn, first we're going the record your weight and height. Please step up onto the scale for me," she says sweetly.

Panic sets in, and my heart starts pounding. My inner voice cuts in. She's going to be disgusted by you. Her and your mother. I tuck away the voice for now and step onto the scale cautiously. It takes a minute to measure, but very shortly, the number pops up. 85.7 pounds.

Is that right? Lower than I thought it would be but still not low enough for me. You fat pig! What happened? You're still too fat even after all of that! That lady thinks so, too. It's written all over her face. Just look.

I glance over at the nurse as she's writing down my weight. I see a little twinge of disgust and turn away. She then measures my height which is still 5'6".

She walks us back to the room and tells us that the doctor will be in shortly. My mom has a seat in one of the chairs, and I hop up onto the examination table. I sway a little with anxiety.

"Gwendolynn," my mother says softly.

I pop up my head and look at her and mutter, "yes, mother?"

"Why?" She sounds so heartbroken. It physically pains me to hear the sorrow in her voice. She starts talking again, "I can't believe I didn't notice sooner. This is all my fault. I'm never home. You're always alone. I can't believe myself."

The one thing I was hoping wouldn't happen is happening. She's blaming herself. None of this is her fault; it's all me.

"Mom, it's not your fault at all, so please don't blame yourself. This is all on me, not you."

"I don't care who's fault it is, from now on, I'm going to be home more often because I am not going to let things get this bad again. You're my only child, I can't lose you," the pain in her voice is audible.

The door handle then starts to jiggle as the doctor walks in.

Author's Note ~

Trying really hard to finish this, I promise. I'm busy, and life is rough. I'll finish it eventually. Hopefully by the end of the year.