Went to the ladybits doctor since I hadn't been in two years and needed to get it done. The lady doing the prodding was nice enough, but decided that rather than talking about the bits she was personally inspecting, it was due time to give me all sorts of helpful advice about how I could lose weight. Being the hopelessly conflict-avoidant person I am, I cheerfully agreed with all she said, and never told her, "Look - you mean well and I *know* I'm at risk for certain things (diabetes being among them - there is a family history) but really, aren't you here right now just to check on my ovaries? Because I could swear that's what the sign on the door said."
So instead of behaving like a grownup and hurting the nice helpful lady's feelings, I ended up at home eating a cheesesteak.
Lord, the workings of my own brain are scary, most days.
So instead of behaving like a grownup and hurting the nice helpful lady's feelings, I ended up at home eating a cheesesteak.
Lord, the workings of my own brain are scary, most days.