She insists I disrobe

"Well, Sara," my therapist took in a deep breath as she contemplated her next words, "while everyone has a certain sense of modesty, and while your experience was horrible and tragic, this... obsession of yours has taken a dangerous turn and adversely affected your life. As you might have gathered, it's not healthy to be this worried about being underdressed, and you have such a good life ahead of you that I'd hate to let it go to waste all over this.

I think certain drastic action is needed," she continued, "and given that you and I are both women, I feel as though it's necessary that I ask you to get undressed here."

"You mean completely?!" I asked, a bit shocked and starting to panic.

"Sara, honey," my therapist continued, "I know this is very radical, and I don't say this at all lightly - it could cost me my job - but I'm going to need you to remove all your clothes. How else are you going to step wetting the bed, or be able to hold down a simple job, or bathe properly, or - god knows for us girls - go to the doctor?"

I froze on the couch. I didn't know that therapy would end up like this!