This afternoon I went to the doctor's office to get a shot. As I was leaning over, mooning a wonderfully nice and innocent nurse, I found myself wondering what is the proper way to respond in this situation. Do I ask, "So, can you tell I work out?" or do I politely inquire, "Man, did you stick a needle in my keester or just perform a perfect round house kick into my buttocks?" I just couldn't decide. And how come at 30, we have to go through these painful experiences pretending to be completely stoic and brave? I mean it's not normal to have someone shoot you in the butt, pat it with a little gauze, put a little teddy bear band aid on it and tell you to have a great day. A great day? What part of me tearing up indicates to you that I'm having a great day? I was having a great day right up to the point where you chuckled and said, "This might hurt a bit." I swear I was two seconds away from throwing an ultra sound machine across the room and yelling, "Now, that is making my day a whole lot better!"
But alas, all I did was whimper a little bit, make a stupid joke about how much fun it must be inflicting pain on kind people and limped out the door. Man, it would have felt good to see that machine hurl through the air...or sing "Moooonnn Rivvverr."