I had some blood drawn at the doctor’s office the other day. No big deal. So when I heard the message on my voicemail that asked me to call them, instead of them just leaving the “don’t worry, everything’s good” message, I freaked out a bit. Good God, what’s wrong with me? Cancer? Leprosy? Hemorrhoids?
Turns out I have a vitamin D deficiency--no big deal, just have to take a prescription supplement. I do wonder if this deficiency has contributed to my general depressive state as of late--it'd be nice to have an excuse, anyway.
Still, I'm baffled. Even in the dead of winter, wearing SPF 28, this chick's pale, pale skin can suck up the sun. In spin class the other day, the instructor was trying to help the class gauge when they're working too hard. "When you look in the mirror, and your face is bright red...then you're working too hard." Yes, pretty simple. And yet, she continued, "Unless, of course, you are Scottish or Irish in origin."
And, I am not exaggerating, the woman looked directly at me while saying this. Anyway, good news! I'm not out of shape--I'm merely Irish. That's a relief.
Bring on the potatoes and the Guinness.
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