I was in the outpatient admissions office most of the morning and I just couldn’t help but listen. After all I write, I need material, plus I’m nosey. The conversation went down like this:
“So my mama grabs one of them... you 'member them cast iron skillets? Well, she just swung round and it hit him up side the head, and I mean he dropped. She thought she killed him, so she’s down there on her hands and knees shaking him, crying, and trying to wake him up. Earl, EARL, EARL, are you okay? I was only eight but I remember it so well. I thought she killed daddy too. Well, anyway, he never laid a hand on her again.”
This account was delivered by a pregnant girl of about, I don’t know, she could have been twelve, but I guess that wouldn’t have given her time to have one in arms and one on the way. At least I think there was one on the way. Could be just an exceedingly big muffin top coming over those jeans. She was with her friend Crystal and friend’s small son Derrick, He evidently has a career waiting for him in the music industry. His mother is encouraging him to become a DJ “cause them people make lots of money.” Derrick was about 4 and well behaved except for the fact that he kept repeating “WATER, WATER” over and over. He wasn’t thirsty. It’s just that I was drinking a bottle of the stuff and he yelled it every time I took a sip. It’s so good to give children an opportunity to learn.
The nurse in the office asked me a lot of things about medicine and conditions I've never had. I gave her nothing to write down so she finally asked me the same question every plump lady does when they find out how much weight I’ve lost. “How did you do it?’ I have decided I needed a new answer because the one I give is inevitably disappointing. So to the, “Well, I ate less and exercised more” I have now added, “and I don’t take any crap off of anyone anymore.” They are happier with my answer and they seem to understand much better. At least they laugh instead of looking downtrodden and hopeless.
So you can see that even though I’m not blogging much, a lot of interesting stuff is happening to me. Like today after I spent 3 hours waiting to give a blood sample and have a 10-minute EKG, I went to the doctor’s office and spent another 2 waiting to let him take naked pictures of the lower half of my body. Although he looks nothing like the hot docs on Nip/Tuck, I seem to have no modesty whatsoever anymore, just stripped off everything except for my high heels and let him snap away. I was hoping for a reduce fee for the surgery by being so compliant, but evidently although he loves my shoes, he’s still charging full price. I gave him the check and he gave me reasons why I might want to change my mind. The list went on and on, but I’m fairly stubborn as women go and I was unmoved. The good news is the pictures turned out better than I thought I looked and besides, on November 13, the day after my birthday, he will transform the uncooperative areas of my birthday suit into something to talk about. He says the c-section scar that I have now will be gone, as well as the appendectomy scar, replaced by a slightly longer scar that will be covered by my panties. Of course, he hasn’t seen my panties so he may have spoken prematurely. He promises that my “after” pictures will be a work of art, a dramatic transformation. He says I deserve it for all the hard work I’ve done, but still, he doesn’t reduce the fee.
“So my mama grabs one of them... you 'member them cast iron skillets? Well, she just swung round and it hit him up side the head, and I mean he dropped. She thought she killed him, so she’s down there on her hands and knees shaking him, crying, and trying to wake him up. Earl, EARL, EARL, are you okay? I was only eight but I remember it so well. I thought she killed daddy too. Well, anyway, he never laid a hand on her again.”
This account was delivered by a pregnant girl of about, I don’t know, she could have been twelve, but I guess that wouldn’t have given her time to have one in arms and one on the way. At least I think there was one on the way. Could be just an exceedingly big muffin top coming over those jeans. She was with her friend Crystal and friend’s small son Derrick, He evidently has a career waiting for him in the music industry. His mother is encouraging him to become a DJ “cause them people make lots of money.” Derrick was about 4 and well behaved except for the fact that he kept repeating “WATER, WATER” over and over. He wasn’t thirsty. It’s just that I was drinking a bottle of the stuff and he yelled it every time I took a sip. It’s so good to give children an opportunity to learn.
The nurse in the office asked me a lot of things about medicine and conditions I've never had. I gave her nothing to write down so she finally asked me the same question every plump lady does when they find out how much weight I’ve lost. “How did you do it?’ I have decided I needed a new answer because the one I give is inevitably disappointing. So to the, “Well, I ate less and exercised more” I have now added, “and I don’t take any crap off of anyone anymore.” They are happier with my answer and they seem to understand much better. At least they laugh instead of looking downtrodden and hopeless.
So you can see that even though I’m not blogging much, a lot of interesting stuff is happening to me. Like today after I spent 3 hours waiting to give a blood sample and have a 10-minute EKG, I went to the doctor’s office and spent another 2 waiting to let him take naked pictures of the lower half of my body. Although he looks nothing like the hot docs on Nip/Tuck, I seem to have no modesty whatsoever anymore, just stripped off everything except for my high heels and let him snap away. I was hoping for a reduce fee for the surgery by being so compliant, but evidently although he loves my shoes, he’s still charging full price. I gave him the check and he gave me reasons why I might want to change my mind. The list went on and on, but I’m fairly stubborn as women go and I was unmoved. The good news is the pictures turned out better than I thought I looked and besides, on November 13, the day after my birthday, he will transform the uncooperative areas of my birthday suit into something to talk about. He says the c-section scar that I have now will be gone, as well as the appendectomy scar, replaced by a slightly longer scar that will be covered by my panties. Of course, he hasn’t seen my panties so he may have spoken prematurely. He promises that my “after” pictures will be a work of art, a dramatic transformation. He says I deserve it for all the hard work I’ve done, but still, he doesn’t reduce the fee.
As I bring the day up for review I find that in spite of some wasted time I am grateful for many things. I’m glad I slipped out between the EKG and the MD appointment to have lunch downtown with my husband. I’m glad I got to meet the future famous “Music Derrick”, the stage name he gave himself. I find that I am ever so grateful for the blessing of the university education my parents sacrificed to give me, and equally grateful that it changed me so much I could not live in their world. I am grateful that while money can’t buy love, it is better to have it when you need it than to stand in the median strip with a cardboard sign that says “homeless, please help, God bless”. I can see I’m going to have a lot of things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, not the least of which is that I did not marry someone named “Earl”.
You're already a work of art.
ReplyDeleteCongrats on your confidence--It's a joy to hear from someone who is pleased with his or her body!
ReplyDeleteah the muffin top! today i was subjected to the top four inches of the back of girl's thong...in a university classroom. egad!
ReplyDeleteyou know you're already fabulous. and post-date with dr. christian troy, you're going to up that to the nth degree and horny men the world over won't be able to resist! ;)
congratulations :)
But my dear outburst, you see the real me, everyone else just looks at the surface. Thank you though.
ReplyDeleteCrankster, I will be totally pleased when Dr Nip/Tuck is done, I think. I think I impressed him. He commented on my boots the first visit and my shoes the second. I mean, who tells a naked woman they have cute shoes?
Roselle, a girl at my job in Denver came in wearing an outfit that I had to tell her was not appropriate. She had stretch marks on her exposed rear muffin and a pink thong riding high above her waist but below the tee shirt she had tied in a knot. I at least have no obvious stretch marks,but I will have a large one eyed smiley face on my tummy when he's done. Oh, and a new belly button. How wierd is that? Thank for all the support my dears.