L*** the psychologist

Cameron and I have started to make a habit out of watching “600 lb. Life” on Wednesday nights; I don’t know why. We don’t make fun of anyone; I think it started out to be surreal – people too overweight to get out of bed and yet somehow making relatives bring them food and more food.

But L***, the psychotherapist who sees patients referred by the bariatric surgeon because of their eating habits, DRIVES ME CRAZY. (It’s a short trip, I know) There are three or four therapists to whom he sends patients, but when he announces it, I almost yell at the TV: NO! NO! NOT L***. Tonight luck was against me. It was the L woman. I will not state that she is, but I will say that, in my opinion, she is an AIRHEAD.

And, after an entire season, of holding my fingers from typing about her, I now feel the irresistible urge to put her in the Joe Biden category and let everybody know it. AmeliaJake can’t stand L***.

Welcome to my therapy session

Let me introduce my therapist: Her name is Feisty, although sometimes she too has to give her feist a kick in the patootie.

Rose recommended her. You remember Rose –

Rose is out scuba diving with her bestie, so she’s not available this week.

Anyway, Feisty says I don’t need a couch or a box of kleenex for our sessions; she is recommending drinks and foldover sandwiches, with 35 calorie per slice bread and a thin layer of PB from the largest jar I have seen. Feisty says we’re probably going to use it all before she deems me ready for function, maybe even need another jar.

Maybe I should contact one of those telephone shrinks who advertise on TV?