The 7 Faces of a Big, Fat Faker

"Your 9:00 is here," the secretary said nonchalantly as she handed me a thickening chart, "and she's crazy as h-ll." Considering the woman was 5 hours late for her appointment, I didn't doubt the secretary's judgment.

I walk out to greet her, an older woman sitting calmly in the front lobby. She's in her early 50s and may have once been attractive in her younger days, but years of drugs, alcohol, and hard living have taken its toll. She's dressed as nicely as a woman on a fixed income can dress in a bland beige top and brown pants that coordinate perfectly with her manicured leopard print fingernails.

No sooner than I introduce myself as the counselor, this once calm woman flips her emotional switch. Her face crumples and rushingly says, "They've spent the electricity money! I don't know how I'm going to pay the bill!" I responded with my usual attempt to empathize and asked who had spent her money. "The girls!" she replies. "The girls spent it!"

Ahh the girls...her daughters? No. Sisters? No. Roommates? No. Her "multiple personalities." Now, many mental health professionals go years (if ever) without seeing a case of Dissociative Identity Disorder (AKA Multiple Personality Disorder), so as a neophyte counselor my interest has been peaked. She reveals she has 7 personalities - #1 her normal self who she describes as weak and sickly; #2 the strong protector; #3 motherly; #4 bisexual; #5-7 the partying rascals who spent all her money. On drugs, might I add.

The longer the woman talked the more she revealed she was a big, fat faker...and she was in my office for 2 hours. I'm officially throwing her name in the ring for Best Actress in the upcoming Oscars, because she put on a show! She produced documents from over a decade ago from a "doctor" who conveniently has disappeared stating she had this disorder and it manifested itself with a vaginal discharge. Yes, you heard correctly. At one point during the session she closed her eyes and began moaning. She told me that someone was trying to come out, but she didn't know who. At this point she began shimmying and shaking, oohing and ahhing, and I quickly encouraged her to go outside and get some fresh air before she could "discharge" and become the bisexual personality or something.

After a few minutes she returned and got straight down to business. She'd heard that the company I work for gives money to it's consumers so they can pay any needed bills, and wanted us to pay her electric bill. I diagnosed her with a Delusional Disorder, referred her for a drug test, and booted her fake butt out of the office.