How I Got Skinny, Famous, and Fell Madly in Love by Ken Baker

Author:Ken Baker [Baker, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780762452033
Publisher: Running Press

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 6 (DAY 5)

“I’m afraid to say this, but this isn’t really working for me—or you.” Dr. Gen drops her notepad down on the coffee table between us. “This is our fifth therapy session and you still refuse to open up.”

“Isn’t that your job, to get me to open up? And as a patient, isn’t it my job to resist, to want to remain in my blissful state of denial? Seems to me that I am doing my job, and you’re not doing yours.”

Dr. Gen takes a deep inhale and lets it out. It takes a big, fat brat to make such a patient, calm person lose her cool. “Therapy is a two-way street,” she explains in her French accent. “It is a relationship. And like any functional relationship there is a mutual dynamic at play. What if we were playing a game of tennis?”

“I hate tennis.”

“Then it is a perfect example. Let’s say you are supposed to be playing tennis against someone, but because you hate the sport, you just stand there and go through the motions. But meanwhile your opponent is doing everything they can to compete and get the most out of the experience. You wouldn’t have much of a game would you? Well, that is exactly what is happening between us in this room. I can only ask questions. It is up to you to open up and give honest answers. This just isn’t working.”

“Your analogy is flawed.”

“Okay, tell me why.”

“Because unlike in tennis, as a therapist you aren’t supposed to be my opponent. You’re supposed to be on my team. On my side.”

“So do you feel like I’m not on your side?”

“Kind of.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like just because I am fat, you’re assuming something is wrong with me, that you are prejudging me before I have even said a single word. In that sense, you are just like every other person in my life. And actually, that is kind of rude—especially from someone who is supposed to help me. I don’t care if you are a French shrink, speak ten languages, and have written bestselling books.”

I get up from my chair and walk over to the far corner and point at a fish-eye lens of a camera on the ceiling. “And this camera here. It doesn’t exactly make me feel like I can trust you.”

“Would it make you feel better if we turned the cameras off?”

“Duh, of course.”

The door to the room suddenly swings open and in bounds Doc.

“Cut! Cut! Cut! Apologies for interrupting,” he says. “But we cannot turn off these cameras, my friends. It’s in the contract that we can film everything.”

“Then I’m not quote-un-quote opening up,” I hastily reply. “The contract only says I will attend daily therapy sessions. It doesn’t require me to do anything else in this room.”

Doc ponders my point. “Fine,” he relents. “We will stand down for five minutes, let you two talk privately, but then the cameras come back on. Everyone, take five.”

“In French,” Dr. Gen explains, “we call what we are a doing a tête-à-tête.

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