In the plastic surgeon’s office, something like a barber’s chair sat squared against a full-length mirror in an otherwise empty room. White. Sci-fi white. After motioning for me to stand, the surgeon attempted to gather a few inches of flesh at my stomach as a nurse stood behind him, looking unimpressed with a pen to a clipboard.
“You’re just so … bloody thin,” he said as he squinted in inspection.
Believe me, I know how annoying this sounds. When I logged onto Twitter later that day and asked if anyone had any ideas for “high calorie, nutrient-dense shakes for healthy weight gain,” six people immediately unfollowed me. Just keep in mind I’d spent sixteen weeks on chemo and turned vegan somewhere along the way.