What's Wrong With Amelia?

"What's wrong with Amelia?" I heard my mom ask herself.

Sadly, I, myself, don't know what's happening to me. But lately, whenever I face the mirror, I get nervous and conscious. I have a feeling that I don't want to show myself, especially my body, to other people.

Ever since I was a kid, I was satisfied with how my body looked. I liked how thin I was, and I had no problem with eating. I just made sure to eat the right amount of food that I needed and wanted so that I could maintain the figure that I loved.

But now, every time I eat, I Google the calories in whatever food is offered to me. Most of the time, I avoid eating meat, pork, and chicken. If I can, I skip meals by pretending that I'm already full or that I'm sick and don't have an appetite.

I'm scared to gain weight because I'm anxious that I'll look fat, which could cause my classmates to make fun of me. I also feel sad because I feel that other people would judge me for how I looked, reason why I don't go out of the house, or even my room, often.

I didn't bother telling my parents about this because I know that they'll just make me eat.

It was fine until yesterday. This feeling has been going on for weeks now and I feel that my parents don't suspect a thing. But just a while ago, my mom told me to get ready for a consultation with a doctor.

"Good afternoon to both of you," the doctor smiled as she sat on her chair.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Doc Acosta," my mother replied, while I just returned the smile.

"So...How are you, Amelia? Have you been eating well?" Doctor Acosta asked.

"Uh...Yeah," I lied as I looked at Mom.

"Really? Your B.M.I. says otherwise," she said while looking at the notebook that contained my height and weight which were measured a while ago. It served as a record of my condition every time I went on a check-up with a doctor.

I heard my mom sigh. "Doc, I observe that she's eating less and less in the past weeks. I always check if she's sick with a fever or something simple, but every time I do, she's not. I let her be for a few weeks but I really can't take it already. Could you please find out what's wrong with her?"

That surprised me a little. Did
she notice that? I thought that she didn't.

From my lap, my eyes looked up to meet the eyes of the doctor.

"Well...How do you feel right now, Amelia?" she asked.

I could not bring myself to speak. Instead, I brought my eyes back to my lap and played with my hands.

"Uh...Ma'am, I'm sorry but could you please step outside for a few minutes? I'll just ask Amelia a few questions," Doc Acosta said.

I saw my mom hesitate. But in the end, she just nodded, got her bag, and went out of the room.

"Amelia, are you nervous?" Doc's voice brought my eyes to her from the door. I slowly nodded at her as she reached for my hands.

"Why?" she asked as she checked my skin and nails.

"Look, from what I saw earlier, you weren't comfortable sharing your answers with me while your Mom was here. Am I right?"

Again, I quietly nodded, having trouble looking her straight in the eyes.

"Okay. But I want you to know that you can trust me. I want to help you, but in order to do that, you need to be honest with me. Lying will not get us anywhere good and may even worsen your situation. So...You need to give me truthful answers about how you feel. Is that okay?"