Anorexia by Anonymous - December 01, 2003 Ask, and then answer, an important question you would have liked us to ask. "Relate a clever anecdote from your life in which you make veiled rerences to your academic abilities, talents, and personality in the fashion of a college admissions essay. Be neat." Last summer, I was accepted to attend Brown University for a four-week creative writing program. However, there were a few more bureaucratic hoops I had to jump through bore I could get on a plane to Providence. For starters, I needed to provide evidence of immunization. I went straight to the source on this one: my parents. "Mom, have I been immunized?" "Yes." "May I have the records to this? Prerably notarized. And mailed to this address by four p.m. today. Oh, and here&apos&aposs 37 cents. Thanks in advance." Unfortunately, my mother had no such records. But perhaps my doctor did. So, I called up the only clinic in the Sunbelt covered by my HMO and asked for my records. They informed me that only a doctor could access my records, because they apparently require Level 50 Pentagon clearance. Unluckily for me, my HMO doesn&apos&apost cover medical expenses incurred as a result of "injury" or "disease." Furthermore, the operations that they do cover (currently limited to animalist rituals and blood donation) requires co-payments most third party campaigns couldn&apos&apost afford. However, these records were vital, so I asked my parents for money, and drove down to the clinic. After a bri wait during which I read an outdated "Newsweek" highly critical of the McKinley administration, I met with Dr. Franklin, whose first words were "You&apos&aposve lost weight." I realized then that in my fervor to obtain the records, I had overlooked the fact that my doctor had the silly notion that I was anorexic. Whoops. And I thought it was a bit suspicious that they weighed me bore going in. So, we got into an argument. She pounced on me for being "anorexic," and I sort of sat there and acquiesced. Then she wrote down on a little pad "Anorexia Nervosa" very patronizingly and slid it over. Again, acquiescence. Fortunately, the mood changed, and we got into a discussion about literature. (The flow was: anorexia --> repression --> social norms --> iconoclasm --> 20th century authors) Apparently, she personally knew Kurt Vonnegut many years back, which I thought was pretty interesting, since I loved Cat&apos&aposs Cradle. In the end, she suggested I read Siddhartha (which I would find interesting, but not astounding) and said the Brown trip would be "therapeutic" for me. And she didn&apos&apost have the immunization records. That lt me out a $20,000 co-payment and several hours of my time, all for a sticky note. In a final show of diance, I placed the anorexia note on my breast and drove to my school, which would certainly have those useless records. The dramatic irony of this final scene exists in that I did not know I was still wearing the note. But it all worked out, as I would go on to successfully attend Brown without spreading my horrible infections to very many people.

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