I know the answer now.
I think I do, I mean. I did some research on teh internets, and I’ve realized that my gynecologist was right, even though she said things in such a dismissive, blow-off-y way.
I’m gonna try to lose 70 pounds. Then, in theory, my ovaries should return to normal.
If anyone speaks to me in an inappropriate way when this is happening, I will simply say, “Would you say that to a man?” Or else I’ll elbow them in the nose and make their nose bleed, distracting them long enough for me to get away.
If I accidentally get kidney stones while losing weight (again), and my doctor says, “Maybe you should quit [doing whatever I end up doing to lose weight],” then I will say “Shut up – as if you wouldn’t tell me to lose weight in the first place.” And then I’ll drink something vinegar-y, because that’s how I got rid of the stone last time.
If, like Dr. Atkins, I slide on a ramp and hit my head and die (and then people say I had a heart attack because of my unorthodox diet), then I will be dead and who cares what people say? If I’m dead and I hear them saying it, then I’ll haunt them or change the channel.
Okay. Ready, break!
Well, first I have to weigh myself, I guess. Then, I’ll know what weight to go to. (Seventy was the number I came up with, last time I gave this matter thought. Seventy pounds sounds like a good amount. Not too fat anymore, but also not too thin. Plus, it starts with an odd number, which I like. Actually, I like the word itself: se-ven-ty. Mmm. Sounds good.)
Okay… Seriously, now…
