This morning I met with a patient to discuss all sorts of private medical matters. Due to HIPAA I cannot disclose any of the juice. What I can tell you is that this dear old man made me blush.
At the end of our convo, Mr. Patient Man handed me a chocolate bar and said... "you look so skinny, you'd better eat this".
I'm not making this up. He really said that.
Outside of dreamland (and maybe blogland- thanks to *Rita*), no one has ever referred to me as skinny. On top of that, I am feeling particularly bloated today. And this patient is very skinny himself. I mean, I could break him if I bumped into him. I could knock him over if I exhaled in his direction.
I thanked him, blushed, pinched myself, checked behind me for a candid-camera-crew, and replied that "well, no one has ever called me that before, but I'll take it". I told him I'd share the chocolate bar with my coworkers who are in fact skinny minnies. And I walked away attempting to see myself the way Mr. Patient Man sees me. Even if Mr. Patient Man is just an old charmer. Even if Mr. Patient Man has an eye disease that left him almost blind so that my actual body is blurred out when he looks my way. What matters is that he sees me as I am: a woman in need of chocolate. Could he be my personal elderly Mark Darcy?