Page 2 of Detention with Daddies

Sighing, I grimace at the exasperation that likely seeped through in that one noise. “To invoke a change in the general treatment of fat people, to put it bluntly, by the medical community. If I could go as far as to say, eventually, the fitness and health community as well. Exercise has so many benefits, and we should focus on that rather than making thinness the only outcome anyone is expected to strive for.”

I swallow and take a chance with my candor. “And I might also like to use my results to offer a bigfuck youto the doctors who try to blame everything on my fat in order to not have to deal with or treat me properly.”

That earns me a small smile. Apparently, he can appreciate a little rough honesty.

But when he leans forward, hands clasped together in the middle of his desk, my optimism wanes a few degrees. “It seems as though you are already aware of what I’m about to say, but it does beg repeating. You are going to have a hard time with this. As much data as you can collect, you have a plethora of preconceived notions and long-held truths about obesity and health.”

“I do understand. And I’m not trying to prove that being fat is healthy. I feel like that’s the misnomer of the fat acceptance movement society is privy to and creating backlash about.” Brushing my hair from my face, I can feel myself growing flush.

He follows the movement like he can see everything. Maybe I’m projecting too much.

“I want to prove that obese people deserve to have respectful interactions with their healthcare providers. That wecan address obesity without the stigma of calling out people for being fat. Believe me, we know we’re fat. And telling us doesn’t make losing weight or being healthy any easier. Weight is a complex issue, and we need to treat it as such. We need to treat everyone like they’re human.”

After another long, slow breath, I re-center myself. “I want, more than anything else, to offer people the chance at a healthier life. To let them know that they are worth the effort. No matter what size they are. What shape they are. We’ve made great strides in doing so for the disabled—those missing limbs for example. Why can’t we do it for people whose disability shows up as excess weight?”

Dr. Wright nods, and I feel like I’ve got him. “I agree with you that treatment should remain equal and not focus solely on obesity as a scapegoat; however, obesityisthe main cause of many ailments obese patients seek medical attention for.”

Biting my bottom lip, I’m still not certain if he’s going to approve my thesis or back me up at all.

“But you bring up a lot of good points, and I’m sure that you have more to offer if I pressed you. Is that correct?” His blond brow lifts.

I nod. I certainly could go on about how badly I want to give others the language and data they need to advocate their own needs and their own health. Too many doctors use losing weight as a prescription for what’s medically wrong instead of treating us…

My nostrils flare, and I force myself to tamp it back down where I can hone this anger, this indignity, for future use.

Dr. Wright studies me, and I feel the calculating judgement. I won’t back down though.

“You’re going to have a hard time, but I’m willing to give you a chance to find more proof than your predecessors.”

I flash him my best grin in gratitude and stand, offering him the box of cannoli over his desk.

I can see the polite acceptance as he takes it, but I’m pretty sure they’re going to end up in the faculty lounge untouched. He doesn’t seem like the type to let himself indulge. At all.

Too bad. My brother made them, and they are bomb.

OLIVIA

Pride and determination swell in my chest as I leave Dr. Wright’s office. But I also feel a bit let down.

I knew this would be a hard undertaking, but everything that’s worth it comes from hard work. And I’m more than willing to put it in.

It’s going to take my degree and some serious gumption to make waves in this industry. To make perceptions change in the communities that discriminate the most against big people. The kind of comments and number of times I’ve been brushed off and not taken seriously because of my size is what concerns me, especially since I’m on the smaller side of big. And my shape is often considered curvy or plump.

You know, I’m pretty for a big girl as too many men have told me before.

Imagine how people who aren’t lucky enough to be shaped nicely with fat are treated. It makes me angry. Makes me more intent on pushing for change.

What disappoints me, though, is Dr. Wright’s obvious bias. Sure, he agreed to let me try. He gave the support I expected bytelling me how difficult this will be. I already knew he’d be tough to convince, but I’ve passed step one in that process.

And yes, he showed me a bit of softness when I told him my personal story, mentioned how I’ve been treated even with how knowledgeable I am about my own health and body, but his sympathies didn’t extend much further. It’s obvious.

Well, just wait for it, Dr. Wright. I’m going to prove myself. There’s noif,and,orbutabout it.

But at least, he’s given me a chance.

Arriving home, I’m excited to see Theo in the kitchen. It’s his day off, which means experimenting with new dishes and tweaking old ones. I light up when he smiles at me.

“Hey, bro. What are you working on?”

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