Dollars, Doctors, and Defense
I saw something today that said 68% of people would stop seeing movies for 6 months for $500. 16% would cheat on their taxes for the same amount. 8% would cheat on their spouse. And all it takes is 500 clams, folks. First of all, it would take a lot more than that to get me to stop watching movies for any length of time, but I know I'm a little tweaked on that one. As for cheating on a spouse, it seems like if you need some greenbacks, you could just pawn your ring. If you're not a total schmuck, it should be worth about 500 bananas. Not worth as much as you paid for it, but then the marriage probably isn't either. And that's a lot of trouble for not a lot of bones. It won't even cover the cost of your divorce.
I read all this in the doctor's office, which was another yucky experience. There's always the preliminary stuff before you actually see the doctor, where the nurse checks your vitals; height (which she just asked me), weight, blood pressure, and temperature. She "checked" my temp by telling me to put the thing under my tongue and handing me the attached readout box thing. She said, just watch the readout, and walked away. It appeared as though I was instantly promoted. Granted, it's not hard to read 98.6 on a thing the size of a remote control, but I do pay for these services. What if it was important? Do I have to draw my own blood sample next time?
So this doctor, who is checking the most personal parts of my body, starts asking me if I'm having the something whatever whosit, and I have no idea what he's talking about. I only know he's talking about one of my bodily functions that he will never experience and he knows more about it than I do. I felt like such an idiot. Or at least less of a woman. Some man is more in touch (no pun intended) with my body than I am. And he's probably gay, to boot.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons I have been utterly unable to hold down a man (in a relationship, that is). I'm not feminine enough. I don't get PMS. I don't get cramps. I don't talk about girl products with other people. I don't wax. I only shave on an 'as needed' basis. I don't 'do' my hair, finernails, or makeup. Maybe men secretly love this stuff, but bitch about it so they can seem more manly. They actually want high-maintenance girly girls who take forever in the bathroom, get headaches to avoid sex, and cut their bangs to make them grow. I'm fun for a while (6-9 weeks to be exact), but then the mystery is gone. They realize that I'm really not covering up some womanly doppelganger that plucks and tweezes and polishes and goes to pilates class(so she can look good naked for him) before work. I actually like football. I don't just feign interest to humor him. I know stats and players and rules and everything. There was even a short time (recently) that I wanted to be an NFL ref.
In my own defense, I do have lots of shoes. And I like wearing cute and flirty short skirts and sparkly jewelry. But that's not enough. It's never enough.
I read all this in the doctor's office, which was another yucky experience. There's always the preliminary stuff before you actually see the doctor, where the nurse checks your vitals; height (which she just asked me), weight, blood pressure, and temperature. She "checked" my temp by telling me to put the thing under my tongue and handing me the attached readout box thing. She said, just watch the readout, and walked away. It appeared as though I was instantly promoted. Granted, it's not hard to read 98.6 on a thing the size of a remote control, but I do pay for these services. What if it was important? Do I have to draw my own blood sample next time?
So this doctor, who is checking the most personal parts of my body, starts asking me if I'm having the something whatever whosit, and I have no idea what he's talking about. I only know he's talking about one of my bodily functions that he will never experience and he knows more about it than I do. I felt like such an idiot. Or at least less of a woman. Some man is more in touch (no pun intended) with my body than I am. And he's probably gay, to boot.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons I have been utterly unable to hold down a man (in a relationship, that is). I'm not feminine enough. I don't get PMS. I don't get cramps. I don't talk about girl products with other people. I don't wax. I only shave on an 'as needed' basis. I don't 'do' my hair, finernails, or makeup. Maybe men secretly love this stuff, but bitch about it so they can seem more manly. They actually want high-maintenance girly girls who take forever in the bathroom, get headaches to avoid sex, and cut their bangs to make them grow. I'm fun for a while (6-9 weeks to be exact), but then the mystery is gone. They realize that I'm really not covering up some womanly doppelganger that plucks and tweezes and polishes and goes to pilates class(so she can look good naked for him) before work. I actually like football. I don't just feign interest to humor him. I know stats and players and rules and everything. There was even a short time (recently) that I wanted to be an NFL ref.
In my own defense, I do have lots of shoes. And I like wearing cute and flirty short skirts and sparkly jewelry. But that's not enough. It's never enough.
posted by Ocean | 9:46 PM
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