Medium-Sized Rant

I work on not taking things personally. I recognize that the world does not revolve around me and my needs. I am willing to extend the benefit of the doubt almost to a fault, particularly to those I care about. And I possess a terrific sense of humor. As long as the spirit is one of fun, I can get on that bus with no problem. But this is different. The damn scale at the clinic weighed me in at eleven pounds heavier than my home scale. Eleven pounds! I can understand a couple of pounds given clothing and food and drink consumption. But eleven freaking pounds! The nurse was dismissive of my protest and entered the inflated weight on my records. Is this some sort of camera scale that adds tennish pounds? To compound (pun not intended) this, an hour later whilst attired in paper clothing I was informed by my doc that men hit on me not because I am attractive and intelligent and witty, but simply due to hormones on the part of the man and the fact that I have a vagina! I put on my clothes (including my jeans, a miracle considering that extra eleven pounds), drove home and crawled into a glass of wine and three episodes of Glee. I have since regained my signature sassy self-assured demeanor. But please! There is more to me than the (erroneous) number on the clinic scale and the fact that I have lady parts!