Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.


I don't even LIKE fried chicken!

Actual conversation with doctor recently:

Doctor: You take two in the morning, and two at night, because, you know, you're very big. And gargle every hour with salt water. And soft diet for a few days - no fried chicken!

Me: (I'm glad she said something, because a lifetime's dislike for fried chicken might have been overcome by the sudden need to force pointy grease-covered chicken down my unable-to-swallow-water-without-pain throat. I might've forgotten that even popsicles hurt if I'd stumbled past a KFC or something.) Uh...I haven't eaten anything but popsicles for three days.

Doctor: Oh, good! You'll lose some weight.

Yep, a trained medical professional was telling me that eating nothing but popsicles (sometimes the whole fruit schmancy kind, but more often the frozen kool aid cheap-o kind) was a good way to lose weight. No questions about what my diet was like normally. No evidence of any health issues related to my weight. Just the awesome recommendation to avoid fried chicken, and keep it up with the popsicles (despite their entire lack of nutritional value outside of sugar and various unnatural dyes).

Luckily, she'd already handed me the scrip I wanted when she said this, so I could just roll my eyes and leave.

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