All too often when it’s my turn to win, the best I do is a draw! For about 7 weeks, I’ve been dieting and exercising and anticipating my quarterly visit to the doctor’s office where I get to pee in a cup and stand on a scale, debating whether I should take my shoes off or not.
Having lost some weight, I figured that would make the medical genius I employ very happy. Eating with great care, I can feel the difference, working out every morning I can sense the loss of volume in my pants, (let me rephrase that) loss of weight as my clothes are starting to get bigger.
I go to the doctor’s office, given a cup in which to leave a little bit of my vintage self, and am asked to step on the scale. The assistant or nurse or whatever she is zips the weight way down to the end, thinking I weigh what I did the last time. “Ah!” she says: “Lost some weight!” I step down, sensing the coming triumph that I will receive from El Medico, Il Professoro, “Da Dacter” the man who after every visit tells me: “Everything looks great, just lose some weight and exercise if you can.” Well doc, today is the day! What have you to say? Huh? See the difference? Doc? Are you paying attention? Hello, I lost weight; I’ve been working my chair padding off for 7 weeks, SAY SOMETHING.
“Doctor, did you notice I lost some weight? And I’ve been exercising too.”
“Huh? Oh! Great!”
Not even a lolly pop for being a good boy!
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