I'm as bad as most other guys when it comes to going to the doctor, but maybe for different reasons

This is how I picture Amber, my primary care provider, when I reschedule my annual check-up for the third time in the last three months.

In two weeks, I'm scheduled for an annual physical with Amber, my nurse practitioner/primary care provider at the Cleveland Clinic.

Amber is great. I like her a lot. She's smart, friendly and takes the time to engage with me and answer my questions.

You would think, then, that I would look forward to seeing her for my check-up. And usually that's true.

But sometimes, specifically when I know I haven't been eating well and my weight is above what it should be, I avoid seeing Amber.

Take this upcoming appointment, for example. It was originally supposed to happen last spring, I think, and I have moved it back three times.

This repeated rescheduling has not happened because I've suddenly had calendar conflicts. It has happened because, other than a two-month stretch over the summer when I first started strength training, I have spent most of 2024 not eating particularly well.

And thus the number on the scale hasn't been great.

The fact is, I only want to see Amber when I know my numbers will be good. And by "numbers," I mean not just weight, but also cholesterol, blood sugar, etc. I go to the doctor not to ensure everything is working OK, but to gain validation that I'm doing great and am...I don't know, a good person?

I don't have to explain how messed up this approach is. It's like waiting until your car seems to be running well before going to a mechanic.

Making this even worse is that my weight isn't that bad, and it's not like Amber is going to yell at me or anything.

Yet I still don't want to hear that my BMI (that most useless of all health metrics) isn't in the normal/good range, or that I need to watch my carb and sugar intake.

I know all these things, and I beat myself up about them often enough without anyone else having to get on me about them.

And again, my bloodwork numbers can't be that bad. In fact, they may all be just fine, I don't even know. It's just the possibility of getting scolded over them, even mildly, that makes me go to the MyChart website and take advantage of that "Reschedule Appointment" link again and again.

Still, I don't think there's any getting out of this physical in two weeks. Like many corporate wellness programs, the one I have at work offers monetary incentives (lower health insurance premiums) just for going to the doctor and for meeting certain biometric targets.

There's hundreds of dollars at stake here. I can't ditch this one.

So I'm going to go. And I'm going to tell Amber the good news first: I'm finally lifting weights!

Then will come the not-as-good news: I'm also lifting a lot of cookies into my mouth!

She will laugh, we'll talk a bit about the mental game of portion control, and it will be fine.

That's what I keep telling myself: It will be fine.