Doctor's Diagnosis

I went all the way to Thomson Road, near Novena to see my handsomely fit & sporty doctor & got a 50-50 diagnosis from him. Not bad, but not exactly very good, either. The last time I saw him, it was a week ago. Today, when he took my weight, I dropped a few hundred grams.

So, during my whole regiment thingy, I took out about two kilos or so. Not exactly a major improvement, but an improvement it was.

Which led me to believe in another theory. "Work Makes Me Lose Weight".

Because at 7-11, I have barely enough time to sip at my Japanese Corn Soup much less woffle down an entire meal.

No, I did not go to the doctor to get my cream for my Excema; that was already taken care of by Mom. But I went to see Dr. Handsome at the request of Mom's personal gym trainer whom initially thought I had a glandullar thyroid problem that needed correcting.

Since Dr. Handsome was a good friend of Ms. Muscle, I agreed to go with her last week. I am in no way or shape a healthy person so I kinda expected the worst of conclusions. Dr. Handsome took my blood pressure together with my heartbeat & declared me okay.

And then...came the dreaded blood test.

Dr. Handsome kept tapping the folds of both my arms but got exasperated in the end when he couldn't find a vein to pop.

"Alamak, my dear!! I cannot find your vein, lehh," said he, still vividly tapping.

Ya lahh, too many layers of cretaceous fats locked in.

In the end, he chose to poke at me with a needle at the back of my right palm & inquired if I was afraid of needles. Uncertain of what to say, both Dr. Handsome & Ms. Muscle issued me a 'don't look' warning right before I felt the needle pierce my epidermis.

I didn't faint during the whole process like I know most of you people would've liked me to.

BUT.

I did NEARLY do so a couple of minutes later when Dr. Handsome showed me my two test tubes filled with with my crimson plasma. It wasn't the sight of blood that sent my own rushing to my head. It was the way Dr. Handsome shook the tubes in front of me & with much satyr, declared happily, "See, your blood got oil."

Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

I keel over & die in your office, can??

So, last week was just a blood test & a height & weight test. Ohh, by the way, I just found out that I am actually 1.56m & not 1.59m like I originally thought so.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrh!! I am SHORT!!

Anywayz, today when I came in for my appointment, Dr. Handsome remarked that I had a different hairstyle. Alamaaaak!! Whaaaa, doc; I just tied up my bloody curls, you still noticed!!

Can I come to your clinic for EVERYTHING, EVERYDAY!!?!?! *grins like an idiot*

Dr. Handsome has an opinion that he thinks women with muscles are damn sexy. His words, not mine.

Yes, doc, I shall build up my muscles & see you in a month's time!!

Please, do take note that I am not doing this for vanity's sake OR to impress some shit male I met somewhere. After looking at the state my blood is in, I think a new lifestyle is to be eschewed for myself. There will be no "Here's The Newer Slimmer & Sexier Me" & pose to take a before-after picture, like a certain shameless ballpicker I could name.

Just thinking about those damned test tubes are enough to throw my apetite into the trash. Bleargh...

Laterz...
Lenny GodGilla Xabs