Kat Atwell is a freelance writer, blogger & stage presence telling stories that deliver laughs, validation & community.

Mental Health | Wellness & Self Image | Experiential & Reviews

Dear Doctor…

An open letter to my general practitioner.


Hi Amy,

As you know, my physical is in less than two weeks. Holy crap. It’s actually in eight days. I need to confess the things I’ve been doing the last several weeks in order to prepare for our appointment. Here goes:

  • I started a regimen of vitamins about three weeks ago. There’s some women’s multivitamin thing I take three of daily. They’re chewy and supposedly taste fruity but TOTALLY DON’T. I’ve been religious about getting them down. Because three weeks of vitamins makes up for 49 weeks of no vitamins.
  • Vitamin D gets its own bullet point. For the past two years, you have brought up the fact that my D has been low. I’ve fought the urge to make inappropriate jokes each time. However, I wanted you to be aware that I’ve also started taking a mega-dose of D on the daily, too. Like, 10,000 IU. I even got my psychiatrist to write me a prescription for it so I could get reimbursed through my flex spending because I AM POWERFUL.
  • I’ve been obsessively stepping on my scale — occasionally, several times a day. I haven’t done anything to alter my poor diet, and I haven’t been exercising, but now I’ve added the unnecessary stress of anticipating your reminder that I’m overweight, my BMI is bad news, and am anticipating the flood of shame that will come as a result. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The flood of shame has preempted the doctor visit. You’ll just confirm it was right to start beating myself up beforehand.
  • I hope, however, I get some sort of reprieve for telling the nurse when I set up the appointment that I’d like to talk to you about engaging in an actual weight-loss, hands-on program. Right? Because I need your approval. I NEED YOU TO RECOGNIZE I’M TRYING.

  • Also, I apologize in advance for the taking of my blood pressure. Why I’ve managed to develop such intense anxiety about having my blood pressure checked is beyond me. Again, let’s use the word shame. It’s totally not embarrassing to be 41 years old and cry when your blood pressure is being taken, right?

Much love and much more apologizing,



Are you doing your best?

Please accept my apologies for the blog delay.