So my Doctor called me the other day, okay she didn't, but Leslie at the front desk did, reminding me that it's time for annual physical, or the annual appointment.
Now there is really nothing all that appealing about getting your confidence shattered when standing on a scale, your future dimmed by your calcium shortage, and your hmmmmm being poked with a giant Qtip.
It's not that I wake up wanting to go, it's that I'll be damned if I am going to let some lady I don't know (I only see her once a year) troll around down there after I've been walking around all day. I'd like to be freshly showered, emphasis on the freshness here ladies, and not all schwampy.
So that's something to look forward to.
thinking writing about it makes me excited.
I can't wait 'til the day I get the boob smasher.
That'll be delightful.
Oh the things we women have to do.
Please note though I whine about it, I do it gladly for my health.
It's important, it's just not 'fun'.