Skinny(14)

“Have you tried to lose weight before?” she asks.

I nod.

“How?”

I tell her about Weight Watchers when I was nine and fat camp when I was eleven. I tell her about cutting carbs and counting calories. She types it all down on her computer. Silently. I don’t tell her about the cabbage diet or the lemon water diet or the cayenne pepper diet, because that’s just crazy. My dad throws in the hypnotherapist I went to see down in Conroe when I was twelve. I forgot about that one. I could have added more, but she closes her laptop and stands up. “The doctor will be in to see you shortly,” she says over her shoulder as she leaves.

A few minutes later, a man knocks on the door and comes in with his hand extended to my dad. Thin, dark-haired, with a beard, he could have played Abe Lincoln in a school play with only the addition of a tall black hat. He sits down on a rolling stool, and my dad and I listen to exactly what will happen to my insides. My brain feels cluttered and cramped. My dad frowns the whole time and asks a lot of questions.

“Why can’t she take nutrition classes or something like that instead?”

The doctor looks over at me. “How many calories is a Big Mac?” he asks.

“Five hundred and sixty,” I answer automatically.

He nods. “How many calories do you need to eat every day to maintain a weight of three-hundred-and-two pounds?”

“Three thousand, two hundred and eighty.”

The doctor turns back to my dad. “She doesn’t need a class,” he says.

“Isn’t she too young for this, Dr. Wilkerson?”

“With obesity on the rise among sixteen- to nineteen-year-olds, many doctors have begun approving the surgery for teens — the youngest on record being twelve years old.” The doctor smiles at me, but his eyes look too busy to really focus.

“How did you let yourself get in this condition? Obese teenagers. It’s a national epidemic.”

“Because she is only fifteen, you will need to sign that you give your permission.” The doctor holds out a clipboard and pen to my dad. Dad hesitates.

“What if she doesn’t do it?” he asks, his empty hand hovering above the paper. “What if I say no?”

The doctor looks from me back to my dad. “This isn’t about looking good in your jeans. Morbidly obese teenagers turn into overweight adults with a reduced life expectancy.” He glances down at the folder in his hand. “Your daughter already has signs of high blood pressure. She could also develop diabetes and heart problems.”

I swallow hard. He’s talking about me. Reduced life expectancy. Morbid obesity. My head is floating, disconnected from my body.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I say. My voice cracks a little, but I cover it up with a small cough. “This is what I want.”

My father nods and reaches for the pen, but his hand shakes a little when he signs his name in an erratic scrawl on the bottom line.

“It’s good you’re here,” the doctor says to my dad. “Obesity surgery is a major undertaking, and it’s really important that your family be well educated about the procedure, the expected consequences, and potential problems.”

“Her stepmother would be here with us, too, but she had to work. We’re all in this together — the whole family,” Dad says. I wonder if he’s checked with Briella and Lindsey about that.

“Good.” The doctor looks at me directly now, brown eyes unblinking behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Because weight-loss surgery and the way it changes your life will affect your entire household. You will need everyone’s support to be as successful as possible.”

From his folder he pulls out a colored flyer, props it on one knee, and reads it out loud. “In gastric bypass procedures, a smaller stomach pouch is formed in the upper portion of the stomach and a new stomach outlet is formed. After the intestine is divided, the lower intestine is connected to the new stomach outlet.”

All the words surround and smother me. I can’t breathe. I bite my lower lip to feel the pain and nod like I completely understand what he’s talking about. But I don’t. Not really.

“This definitely isn’t something to be taken lightly,” the doctor adds. “Surgical risks from operating on the stomach and intestines can include infection, suture leaks, and blood clots. Changes to the digestive tract may cause ulcers, bowel obstruction, or reflux.”

“Great,” I say, sarcastically. Realizing it doesn’t come out very enthusiastically, I clear my throat and try again. “I’m very excited. What’s next?” I ask, trying to sound ready to go even though my stomach feels like a shaken-up Coke.