This afternoon, I am getting my eyes checked for the first time in nearly three years. I'm putting my money on the optometrist giving me a lecture on "eye health" and trying to convince me it is time to purchase bifocals. I will ignore the first part of the sermon because everyone knows optometrists aren't real "doctors." The second part of the speech wont be so easily dismissed because it will offend my southern senses. I mean it's CLEARLY inappropriate for some faux-doctor to suggest that my vision woes may be caused in some way small way my advancing age. Pfft.
I suppose this all goes back to my hating going to the doctor. Firstly, because they always tell me I'm fat. Spare me. This I know. Secondly, because they like to take your clothes away from you and despite my case of The Crazies, I do not like taking my underwear off for anyone but the Aggie. This is why I push going to the bajingo-ologist (ob/gyn) back as far as possible on my calendar. Usually I only agree to make the appointment to have my bajingo examined after 1) my mother guilts me or 2) I see something scary on television about bajingo-ravaging cancer and decide that its better to address any issues before my lady bits dissolve into cancerous fury.
So, as you can guess, its pretty hard to get me to any form of medical office unless I'm running out of Crazy Pills or am convinced I have the bird flu. In both cases I will attempt to bribe the receptionist into giving me someone else's long-scheduled appointment. And if that doesn't work, I start to cry. Usually that gets me in with the doctor ASAP. And I've found that if you are hysterical enough they don't hesitate in writing you a prescription for the Crazy Pills AND as an added bonus they skip the whole you-are-obese lecture.
But you know what? Never once has an eye doctor called me fat. An optometrist has never said: "Okay, read that top line for me… Is ONE better or TWO? Which is clearer ONE or TWO?... And by the way, you are over weight and we need to work on that."
Nor have they ever said: "Okay, here's a tiny paper gown. Please strip down to just your socks. While you wait in this tiny cold room, naked for the next hour while the doctor checks their email and dicks around on the Web, you should maybe do some breathing exercises and mentally prepare to be raped by medical equipment with names you cannot pronounce."
I guarantee you that those are words that will never ever be uttered in the optometrist's office, which is why they are pretty much the only exception to my doctor phobia.
That and because I do not view having my vision checked as a true medical procedure, but rather an excuse to purchase new accessories. Picture of me in my new eye gear are sure to follow.
I suppose this all goes back to my hating going to the doctor. Firstly, because they always tell me I'm fat. Spare me. This I know. Secondly, because they like to take your clothes away from you and despite my case of The Crazies, I do not like taking my underwear off for anyone but the Aggie. This is why I push going to the bajingo-ologist (ob/gyn) back as far as possible on my calendar. Usually I only agree to make the appointment to have my bajingo examined after 1) my mother guilts me or 2) I see something scary on television about bajingo-ravaging cancer and decide that its better to address any issues before my lady bits dissolve into cancerous fury.
So, as you can guess, its pretty hard to get me to any form of medical office unless I'm running out of Crazy Pills or am convinced I have the bird flu. In both cases I will attempt to bribe the receptionist into giving me someone else's long-scheduled appointment. And if that doesn't work, I start to cry. Usually that gets me in with the doctor ASAP. And I've found that if you are hysterical enough they don't hesitate in writing you a prescription for the Crazy Pills AND as an added bonus they skip the whole you-are-obese lecture.
But you know what? Never once has an eye doctor called me fat. An optometrist has never said: "Okay, read that top line for me… Is ONE better or TWO? Which is clearer ONE or TWO?... And by the way, you are over weight and we need to work on that."
Nor have they ever said: "Okay, here's a tiny paper gown. Please strip down to just your socks. While you wait in this tiny cold room, naked for the next hour while the doctor checks their email and dicks around on the Web, you should maybe do some breathing exercises and mentally prepare to be raped by medical equipment with names you cannot pronounce."
I guarantee you that those are words that will never ever be uttered in the optometrist's office, which is why they are pretty much the only exception to my doctor phobia.
That and because I do not view having my vision checked as a true medical procedure, but rather an excuse to purchase new accessories. Picture of me in my new eye gear are sure to follow.
2 comments:
whaddya mean you can't pronounce the name of the equipment...you should be on a first name basis with those! - P
Who wrote the comment above mine? Halley
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