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.

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