You're supposed to say the title like a horn from a boat that would be in the harbor. You know, like that old B-O commercial from a long time ago. I'll give you a sec. Get it?
I'm going to my doctor this morning. Yuck. I do love my doctor (he has delivered all three of my children), but I DETEST going for a check-up. It has been almost three years since my last check-up and I have kept putting it off. Honestly, I'm going now because we're about to move to another state where said doctor does not practice. And I have questions about stuff. Yes, yes I see your wide-eyed looks of horror, gentlemen, and I'll refrain from discussing it. And I really don't hate it because of what they do (thought that IS a bit uncomfortable); what I hate is... being weighed. For two weeks, I have waited in quiet dread about getting weighed at the doctor's office. I skipped dinner last night and I have already started drinking water this morning (I will stop promptly at 7:30 to give my body a chance to rid itself of it). I cannot skip breakfast (ever) because I'm STARVING. I hate stepping on the box (with clothes on and everything) and having the nurse write down what she sees. Don't they know that clothes weigh ten pounds? I think everytime I go to the doctor, I request that the scales be put in a room where I can put on one of those lovely patient gowns to get weighed in. The nurse usually just smiles. I did have one fellow blogger suggest that I turn around on the scale to not see what I weigh. Yeah, can't do that. MUST KNOW. I know that I'm not overweight. It's the numbers that bother me. Why can't they be less? Why must I weigh that particular number? I don't like it. I will be relieved when it's over.