Aggravation (143) Anxiety (93) April Fool (1) Bitchiness (65) Bobby (84) BP (7) Burning in Hell (36) Bush (66) Calme au Blanc (13) Catholic Church (33) Charlotte Cushman (11) Cobalt Blue (26) Confusion (11) Crime (22) Daily Life (144) Dangling Conversations (41) Deep Thoughts (44) Depravity (29) Depression (43) Divertissement (13) Embarrassing Moments (16) Family (44) Friends (110) Frozen (15) Fun (60) Gay (67) Gertrude Stein and a Companion (19) Glass Menagerie (34) Good Things (72) Government (58) Gustav (16) Hate (20) Holidays (36) Hope (35) Hugging the Shoulder (6) Humid City (9) Humor (153) Hurricanes (3) Internets (8) Jesus (5) Justice (6) Katrina (119) Latrine (15) Life in the Quarter (352) Louisiana (12) Mardi Gras (85) Mark Rylance (1) Movie Stars (35) Music (22) Nagin (20) New Orleans (126) News (28) Nighthawks (29) NOLA Partee (1) Obits (12) Our-Leaders-in-Their-Wisdom (111) Outlaw City (126) Personal (403) Photography (532) Pity Post (11) Politics (79) R I P (12) Religion (20) Retirement (11) Righteous Shit (23) Sadness (37) Saints (19) Search-Engine Crap (20) Sex (34) Sick Humor (60) Silly Stuff (150) Southern Decadence (22) Striking Words (23) Stupid Shit (217) Take Me Out (41) Tattoos (18) Tennessee Williams (64) The End (1) The Human Comedy (15) Theatre (508) Thinking Blogger Award (1) Thrill Me (37) Treme (7) Valhalla (42) War (28) Weekly Photo Challenge (41) Weird Shit (9)
Monday, May 5, 2014
That doesn’t sound right. Let me explain.
Back in February, my doctor decided that I needed to lose some weight. I didn’t necessarily agree. Weight, to me, has always signified degrees of desirability; and at my age, I figured I was over all that. My doctor, on the other hand, considers weight an indication of longevity; and he believes that, at my age, I might be able to buy back a few years from the reaper.
He prescribed me a pill.
Whatever happened to those old Marcus Welby’s who would hand you a mimeographed weekly menu and tell you to eat only that for the next month or two?
Everything today is a pill or a shot.
And it was a pill I got, and a pill I took.
Like all pills, this one has side effects. I looked them up. I discovered I could expect to experience an upsurge of energy. (I fall asleep.) There might be dry-mouth. (Oh, yes.) Perhaps nausea. (Uh-uh.) Possibly diarrhea. (Oh, hell, no!)
No, my side effects consisted of anxiety, depression, irritability...and a frisson of horniness.
ADIH. Not a tasty alphabet soup.
I have found myself struggling to suppress an increasing urge to walk up to total strangers and say to them, “You wouldn’t want to have sex with me, would you? No! I figured not, you filthy pig whore!”
Fortunately, I have so far been successful in monitoring my behavior. Otherwise, you would have known I had been nursing certain bodily injuries.
On the plus side, the pills have worked. I went back to my doctor this past Friday for a weigh-in, and it is official. I have lost the equivalent, in pounds, of a four-year-old boy.
You may pat me on the back.
Not too hard. I tend to topple.
On the minus side, however, I now have the equivalent of a four-year-old-girl to go within the next three months.
After that, what?
A toddler or two? Or, oh, sweet Jesus, triplets!?