“Sometimes, I was lying so she would think I was making progress. Other times it felt good because I could see my weight loss and I looked less like a monster.” I cover my stomach with a pillow from his couch. “But most of the time, it really hurt to just have to look in the mirror at all because I never saw what I wanted. There’s also the added layer of me trying to figure out if I’m nonbinary or genderqueer or whatever, and sometimes it felt hard to breathe.”

“So you also question your gender identity? Talk to me about that.”

“It’s not like something that’s always on my mind, but yeah. I reject the gender binary. And I don’t know if I like the terms nonbinary or genderfluid. Genderqueer seems to fit best, but that also feels very nebulous, especially because, like, some people think genderqueer means transgender because those terms get lumped together. Some genderqueer people are trans, and some aren’t. Sometimes because of this I just feel very … invisible, you know? Like technically genderqueer and nonbinary fall under the trans umbrella, but I’m not trans. I know that much for sure. But we don’t have language for that nuance, really, and I spent a lot of time trying to define myself: If I’m questioning my place within the binary, does that mean I’m not necessarily cis? Maybe. But maybe not. Is it an either/or thing? Is it just another binary?”

Dr. Sweatervest nods. “What do you think?”

I shake my head. “When I came out as nonbinary, even though I wasn’t ready to do so—something I created went viral, and it just sort of happened—I ended up losing a best friend who started talking about me behind my back. It made me feel like I wasn’t valid at all as myself. Even though I knew who I was without all the terms and labels. But then came the expectations from others to define me based on what they saw or thought. It felt like I was attacked from all angles—internal and external, you know? I just want it to be okay that I am who I am. Gay. Nonbinary. Queer. He, maybe they, but always Chase Arthur.” I brace myself for his judgment.

“Why do you feel there’s a need to define yourself in that way?” he asks.

“Because it feels like something I should do. Put a name to the feelings I have that don’t fit into any boxes. Right?”

“Who said you should do that?”

I sit with that for a few moments.

“I’m not going to make you look into the mirror because of your body dysmorphia. But I remember you mentioning having sex with Jack and the way he made you feel about yourself and your body. Was his validation important to you?”