Just eat the cupcakes
September 13, 2012 15 Comments
There is a person in the office who has a doctor’s appointment today. They are worried that the doctor may be upset at them because they ate two chocolate cupcakes yesterday. Someone asked this person if they were going to confess to the doctor about consumption of the cupcakes. Confess… really?
This entire conversation astounds me. I am going to email my doctor right this minute to inform him of the fact that last night I had two glasses of wine and an obscenely large bowl of spaghetti. Then, I will scoff openly at triglycerides. Then, I will tell him that if there were two cupcakes in front of me, that I would eat those cupcakes RIGHT NOW. I hope this doesn’t make him cry. Maybe I shouldn’t email my doctor and make him cry so early in the morning. I feel bad about it now. Perhaps I should compose the email and sent it later on.
Anyone have a doctor’s appointment today? Here is your t-shirt.
About lgalaviz
This makes me angry. Unless you’ve got a condition like diabetes or something, why worry about a cupcake or two?
Ok fine, if you live on cupcakes and nothing else your doctor has all rights to be upset, but otherwise.. Well, you’ve said it already on the title: just eat the damn cupcakes!
People are strange. People around here like to bring in treats for other people who eat them, and then complain about how the treats are bad. It confuses me. Does this happen everywhere, or only around me?
Perhaps they hate their co-workers and want them to get sick? It’s like bringing free booze and cigarettes and then lecture people on the health risks.
I went to the Dr. yesterday. I told him I wasn’t wearing clean underwear. Confessing to your Dr. is cathartic. Well, I mean it was for me….he looked a bit concerned.
That is hilarious that your doctor was concerned about your underwear. My doctor seems to be only concerned with stuff like blood pressure and cholesterol levels. This is probably because I have not brought up the subject of underwear.
I tell all my doctors that I eat nothing but whole sticks of butter. Never had one cry, yet.
No? You should try harder. Tell them you’ve started taking meth.
Mmmmmm! Buttery meth!
I don’t tell my doctor anything. It’s none of his business unless I’m dying. Or bleeding copiously from the eyes and mouth-area. He’s very good at disappointed-face. I hate that face.
I don’t succeed very much at the doctor’s office. My blood pressure is always high and I get the accusatory face. I keep trying to do better, but it doesn’t work. I’m a major fail at the doctor.
If you already ate the cupcakes what is the point in confessing? It’s not like he can take them back.
I’m not sure what the point would be in confessing about the cupcakes. There must be many more interesting things to confess to at the doctor’s office.
I had a great doctor for a while who would ask if there was anything new going on and then say “you have already heard all the lectures, so I’m not going to bore both of us” and leave it at that. She DID insist on a hepatitis test when she saw my tattoo, but other than that, since I had no health issues, she spared me the lectures that she could have given me and I was grateful for it. I HATE going to the doctor and knowing I am going to get lectured (for things I likely won’t change) makes me just not want to go at all.
Of course, I’ve not had health insurance in well over a decade, so I consider myself fortunate to not have any issues that require checking/maintenance.
If you’re gobbling up a dozen cupcakes a day, you might have an issue. If, one day you happen to eat two cupcakes, y’all should just be grateful for having had the opportunity to eat two delicious cupcakes. (My opinion, your mileage may vary)
Every time I go to the doctor, they find something wrong with me. And… I feel FINE.
Even when I don’t feel fine, they never focus on the topic at hand. If I come in for a sore throat, don’t weigh me and take my blood pressure. That has NOTHING to do with a sore throat. NOTHING.
I’m upset now. I’m going to go have cupcakes.
Spot on Lisa. True story….20 years ago I broke my arm and the Dr. was all “What shall we do about about your smoking?” (Yes, I quit 17 years ago so nobody start)