Neon makes me want to wrestle

Yesterday I had my "annual" gyno exam. "Annual" is in quotes because it was actually longer than a year. I guess it had been 15 months. I knew it was time when Walgreen's wouldn't refill by prescription for my stupid birth control pills but had no idea why. All they could tell me was that it was under "Waiting Physician Approval".

I remembered that last year I couldn't refill until I made an appointment with the gyno for my annual. I was already late because who the hell remembers to fill their birth control pills when they're not having sex anyway? (Just because I'm married means nothing. My husband has quite the intimate affair going on with his computer. I'd rather sleep.)

So I called the OBGYN and demanded that they (please) stop holding my birth control pills under hostage. I'd make a stupid appointment. The nurse said she'd call them in but of course, it never happened so then I'm a week late starting the pill.

I called again, this time a bit angrier. I remember I had to do the same thing last year. I vowed this year to never go back to this OBGYN again. Never.

I make it to my appointment 10 minutes early. I still have to fill out paperwork even though I've been going to the same damn place for 15 years.

They call my name, they weigh me, I sigh in disgust and then I'm shuffled into a room with sexy bedroom furniture. There are plush, purple velour seats and I can see the outline of the person's pant seam that sat there before me.

Weird.

I was given a purple silk robe with delicate embroidery and told that it opens in the front. Considering the sexy furniture and now this silk robe, I was afraid that maybe I was at the wrong place. However, I looked a little more at small pile of fabric on the table and there was the same paper blanket that they have every year sitting quietly next to the purple silk. I sighed in relief.

I took every thing off and like everyone else, folded my underwear and hid them in the pants. Does everyone do that? I thought what would it be like if I just acted like I was at home...threw the pants on the chair, the underwear on the floor, the bra hanging from the doorknob. I wasn't in the mood to test new grounds so I just left my clothes neatly on the plush velour chair and wondered what kind of outline my folded pants would leave.


I put the robe on, sat up on the table and waited and waited and waited. The robe was hot and I was sweating. Thank goodness for the paper blanket so I could wipe the sweat off.

Finally she came in. She did her thing and then we talked. I asked her when she could rip my ovaries out and she said she wasn't going to do that because I would have a difficult time with the hormones and stuff. (I'm only adding that part because my mother asks me EVERY SINGLE YEAR, "Why don't you ask them to rip out your ovaries?")

I asked her if there was anything I could do about my constant weight gain.

"Well, at your age", (shit is always going to be bad when people start out with that phrase) "it would be best to exercise 1 hour a day at least 6 days a week. Do you exercise now?"

I found myself staring at the wall as I answered her....

"Well, I've exercised in the past and it never does anything. Consistently, I mean. I've consistently exercised and (turning my head back to her so she doesn't think I'm lying) I lose no weight."

This is totally true. I have poly-cystic ovary syndrome and while I'm thrilled I don't have a mustache, as that is one of the symptoms, I cannot lose weight. This is why my mom asks me EVERY SINGLE YEAR, "Why don't you ask them to rip out your ovaries??"

"Hmmmm", she puts her manicured hands on her slender waist and I know she thinks I'm lying. "Why don't you join a gym? How about hire a trainer? It will really help your depression, too."

"All great ideas but the last time I was in a gym, I got incredibly sick. I'm really good about washing my hands but I no longer want to ever work out in a gym again. Besides I like to be at home when I exercise. Really, I totally wash my hands all the time."

This is really because I am way too self conscious to bounce around in front of anyone.

And really, hire a trainer? Can I use my EBT card to hire one? Who the hell has money for that? Oh, I know! Doctors! That's who.

She just looks at me, chin in hand and kind of tilts her head and starts to say something but I interrupt her.

"Ok, I'll start back (I really emphasized that word) on an exercise routine." God knows I have plenty of videos and motivational music to do something. I could even walk a dog here and there.

So, while I'm at Target today I'm walking around and saw a sign that says 40% off athletic bras. Well, heck! That's my biggest problem. Controlling my chest while exercising is half the battle. I bought the brightest (and actually largest) sports bras they had.

The bright neon colors will motivate me. I know they will. A couple weeks ago I bought some fancy neon stars decorated workout pants.

Holding up the pants, I asked my coworker, "Don't these pants just make you want to RUN?!"

She just looked at me.

But now I have a set.

A set of neon, fun, you-know-wanna-work-out, work-out outfit.

I'm now wearing the neon and I feel really good. I even bought some actual athletic type socks to make it feel more official.

I'm going to get out of bed here any second and start working out. I'm just on a Girls marathon since finding out the Kylo Ren is kind of a babe and that Adam Driver's previous work was on Girls. I have to watch every single one (while eating vegi straws) and then I'll work out.

In my neon. So watch out.

Oh, and here's a picture to capture your attention if you see this on Facebook....