(Or, I Thought We Were Past This)
Here's how it works: I go to the doctor and she tells me, "I want to see you in two weeks. I want you to wear that same outfit next time you're here, and I want you to be looking... wider... in it." And I don't take that as a medical suggestion, or a prescription. I take that as a challenge.
I can see where it's no different than, "Eat oatmeal every morning - you need to lower your cholesterol," or, "Start taking a 30-minute walk about every day - your blood pressure is high." Except I don't hear, "Get back on the nutritional horse - you're going to damage your body." I hear, "Show me you can do it - show me you can stay at this weight or come back smaller." At least, that's what I hear with a small, strong part of my ears and brain. That's terribly frustrating to the majority (and apparently weaker part) of my brain. I am, if you'll permit me to say, fairly intelligent. I understand the facts here, and I pride myself on easily grasping and identifying things like informal logical fallacies and cognitive dissonance. And yet... there it is. The challenge. The dare. The elation of losing yet more weight. The cacophony of a jangling, jostling place in my head that serves no purpose but to keep me disoriented and does nothing so well as to be the screaming, persistent minority.