Skip to main content

Yipee It's time for the physical! (said no one ever!)

Raise your hand if you're ever excited for your annual physical?

 Anyone?

 Anyone?

 Didn't think so.

 I think it's a particularly unpleasant experience for women. I know men aren't all that thrilled to turn their head and cough during their exam and I have heard the prostrate exam might involve a little more than coughing, but trust me guys you get away easy.

 I think the dread of the exam has heightened for me through the years. No I take that back - it's not something I merely think it's something I know I dread! And it starts with the first task after the nurse calls your name - the scale. And it's not a little scale, I mean it's got neon flashing lights displaying what it says is your weight. And it never matches the number to the scale at home or the number I actually want to see! And then the nurse, who you just know is trying not to laugh or comment, walks you to the examination room where the second most dreaded part of the exam is about to begin. No, not the actual exam - but the donning of the paper 'gown' that I swear is getting smaller. Probably trying to preserve the number of trees felled for the benefit of modesty and just plain dignity. Ironic that the 'gowns' have gotten smaller as the number that the scale reads is larger. Huh, wonder it there's a correlation? Nah, probably not. Though the 'gown' is smaller, at least it's pink and we all know how much better we all feel about that - right?

 I won't even discuss the actual exam, because why describe misery when your blog is entitled "The Glass if Half Full" and you're known for your Pollyanna-like ability to see the positive in most every situation. Well, I can't really find a positive in the actual degradation of the exam - so I will just skip it. Because that makes it all better! Ha!

 The exam ends with promises to make the scale say a lower number next year (through effort of some sort on my part not the scale's) and to take care of myself because no one else will. And then there are referrals to make for more appointments that promise great things like getting the girls squished between two glass plates while holding on to the torture device at awkward angles (again wearing a pretty pink gown) and trying not to fall while having seemingly normal conversations with some woman you hope to never run into while shopping or at church or out to dinner with the husband. Then for me there is usually another appointment a month or two later to have the girls hang low while laying at another awkward angle inside a loud tube. Though for the latter appointment, the MRI, they don't usually give you a pretty paper gown - but some drab (though cloth) hospital gown. 

 So, I say, bring it on! I know what to expect. Only this year, I'll trick that mean scale and hold my breath - 'cuz that will definitely make the flashing neon letter a smaller more accurate one. Right?

Comments

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Parenting

I just read a post on Facebook regarding the dearth of parenting. The poster was describing a scene where two young girls were pelting rocks at some ducks in our little town and how he observed no parents around telling these girls that it was wrong to torture little innocent animals. Within hours, there were 15 responses - all alluding to a lack of parenting that is evident nearly everywhere today. Stick with me here - because that conversation reminded me of one I'd had recently that might not seem related to parenting at all. It was with my oldest son about his concern about the selfishness of our culture - most recently evident in the Wall Street meltdown. He believes that we are too focused on "Me" and not enough on "We" and if we had a little more focus on the total and just not our part, we would be in a much better place. Still there? Okay, here's the cement that will hold this together - those girls pelting little ducks with rocks weren't likely...
Post a Comment
Read more

When you encounter a totally different reality

John and I arrived early for an appointment (for those of you that know my husband, you know that this is not infrequent! The story of arriving three hours early for a flight to Phoenix from Midway still gets repeated and laughed about when the 'kids' get together). We found a seat and the waiting room began to fill. We had chosen seats away from the TV where NBC's Today Show was playing, so we couldn't see what was on the screen. Another couple sat before the TV and provided commentary and as the time progressed provided a glimpse into a total different 'reality'. "Oh I can't even stand to look at him. He's so evil" "What is wrong with his hair?" "This administration will do down in history as the worst ever." "The federal government is taking over the states. There's going to be a civil war, just you wait." "They just let all those illegal aliens in and then they're going to give them weapons to take...
1 comment
Read more

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B...
Post a Comment
Read more