I liked my previous D. She was nice and friendly, although I found it creepy to meet in a room surrounded by photos of food and that little rubber play food that looks like a combination between vomit and bad Chinese food. She was a good start, she helped me realize some of my warped views on food, and she (and T) succeeded in getting me off tracking food with Weight Watchers. But she gave me tons of info and recipes on paper (which freaks me out because I have nowhere to put it), I couldn’t keep her plan on my iPhone (again, another source of anxiety for me because who wants to whip out a paper when you’re at lunch with friends?), and I didn’t know what I was supposed to be eating when.
T suggested a more rigid meal plan, and that sounded fine and dandy to me, but D1 never really was up for that. So I quit, and the past few weeks without any help from any D has been difficult, to say the least. On the plus side, now I get why I need a dietician. And I found out what the difference between a nutritionist (who can be anyone) and a dietician (who has to have degrees and certifications) is. Although I like the term nutritionist better (really – why do we put “diet” in a term for someone who helps people with eating issues?), I’m following industry convention.
Fast forward to last week. T gave me a few names of D’s in the area with experience with eating disorders. Good! So I looked at the list, and there were two that were remotely close to where I work, and I called the first after googling her. Her experience seemed very solid, and she works with the ED group at the regional medical center, so I thought it would be a good fit. Last week I met with her partner (“Dimwit”), and she was NOT a good fit. A. She talked about their weight loss program extensively even though I told her I’m anorexic. Now I have a weight loss program I could teach her about! Ha ha, a little gallows humor. Then Dimwit wanted payment up front. My insurance pays for my D – but they don’t bill directly. Ugh. More paperwork, more stress. Then there were more inappropriate comments, before she hooked me up to a machine that said my body fat composition was 25.8. Healthy is 18-25. SO THAT MEANS I CAN LOSE WEIGHT! YEA! NO! Yes, I want to lose weight – I always want to lose weight. But you don’t tell an anorexic that now she has a free pass to lose up to 10 pounds. If I dropped that low, I’d be spending quality time at the hospital.
Now I’m really concerned but for some stupid reason I paid 1/2 up front for the 8 week program. I shared the program with T, who was not thrilled. And I went on Wednesday to meet D2, who was better than Dimwit. I was late, but she was hyper, and I’m not sure that’s a great thing. I tried to explain my reservations about working with a team called with “Diminishing” in their title, but she waved it off. She also made a comment about the wealth of info I sent her (my trigger foods, my history, my issues, and a week’s food log from MyFitnessPal). Hey Lady, I’ve been down this path before, and I don’t want to spend our time talking. Really. Give me the plan, and let’s go.
So she came up with a plan – a very limited plan. I feel like I’m on Atkins or something. Hardly any carbs, so the inner stick inside of me is high-fiving. Lots of protein, not much fat (woohoo!) and very restrictive. She wants to keep my blood sugars steady, and so hey, I can give it a shot. We meet next week, so it’s only a few days. Still I miss my bagel thins but I get chocolate at night.
We’ll see how it goes. I’m prepaid, so I’m stuck for two more weeks, but I did tell her this “8 week plan” ain’t for me – I want to be meet weekly until I feel safe. She took a lot of shit from me which worries me (doesn’t she work with manipulative ED patients?), and I refused to be weighed by her, refused to stop tracking, and refused to stop daily weighing at home. I keep thinking back to that 25.8% body fat – it’s hard to get out of my head. So much of it isn’t going to work, but I have to try. Anything is better than where I am.
I wish there was a manual with all of this. And I’m stunned that there are so many crappy D’s out there who don’t know what they’re doing when it comes to EDs. I want this to work and most of all I want to stop obsessing about food, but I’m not hopeful. Once again, I feel weird and alone with my weird foods and no one who understands me. I ate a chunk of deli meat yesterday as a snack. Eww. Really? Like I’m not freakish enough, I eat turkey out of a bag. Just give me the damned feeding tube already and leave me alone. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to think about what to eat. I don’t want to meet with people who are supposed to be making these decisions for me. I really, really, just don’t want to eat.