An Open Letter To The 22-Year Old Nurse Practitioner In My Doctor's Office This Morning

Dear 22-Year Old Nurse Practitioner In My Doctor's Office This Morning:

First of all, thank you for saving me a two hour wait while the doctor rushed across the street to deliver a baby.  While I love my doctor & regret not being able to talk to her, I appreciate not having to lay on an exam table in an open-back, paper gown for two hours.

I'll make this quick since you're probably reading this in line at Pinkberry.  When I wrote, "PMS, sports bra rash, no kids, weight" on the agenda, I anticipated discussing these items with my beloved doctor, who knows me, my weight issues & my position on not reproducing.

I am 36.  So no, I did not mean "pre-menopausal" when I wrote down that I wanted to discuss PMS.  But thank you for that.  I turn 37 in May & will assuredly replay this conversation over & over in my head for the next 8 weeks.

Also, when the person asking to discuss her weight with you outweighs you by 40 lbs, DO NOT ask her if she's exercising & watching what she eats.  Because you know what?  I'm 36.  I've been exercising & "watching what I eat" for longer than you've been alive.

I realize that at 22, you can maintain your weight by simply eating a salad every now & then & working out 30 minutes a day three times a week.  But one day, you too, will turn 30 & in the blink of an eye, you'll gain 15 pounds & a patch of grey hair not even $200 highlights can cover.  And later in your thirties, oh, let's say 36, you will go for your yearly wellness exam & get talked down to by someone half your age, half your size & with half of her forearm in your cervix.

Best of luck.