So I went to a new doctor yesterday - an MD, with rather impressive credentials - including a blog I enjoy very much.
I went to see him about my weight. Even though I am quite pleased to be down about 70 pounds, I am now out of Meridia (supply dried up 2 weeks ago and now it is off the market). I noticed my thoughts about food were no longer being restrained by my pharma-arsenal. One morning, as I was innocently walking the dog past Amy's Bread and -BONG- there is this CAKE in the window. Yellow. Brown sugar icing. It actually vibrated. Vibrated. I smell Trouble. Coming. Fast.
We begin as I quickly recite my sordid dieting, losing/gaining history, expounding along the way my theories of physiological and genetic causes of overweight, and it ended up feeling like I was talking to someone that might be a real-deal expert in this field. At least he wasn't going to tell me to "eat less and maybe get some exercise", (the medical equivalent of a pat on the head).
Same day I go to file the insurance claim - at $6.11 a minute I wasn't holding the paper for long on this one, and I see a diagnosis code. Gotta have one of those...In my arrogance I am saying to myself:
"Gee, I wonder what he put down, since I don't really have anything"
"Hummm... 307.51"
"Let me look that up"
click click click google click click
"Bulimia Nervosa"
WTF???? I never puked in my life!
