So, to digress a little bit from the Ireland posting, this morning is that dreaded morning that I live in fear of all year: My annual physical.

I would actually not do one every year, but I take a daily medication that requires yearly blood testing, and my doctor won't refill my prescription every year without me visiting her office. So I go.

And every year, I hear, "Have you thought about trying to lose some weight?" Or some variation of that statement. 

Every year, I also make a vow to myself: I will look shocked and horrified when she asks me that, and I will say something clever, like, "Are you serious? I thought I was slim."

All while keeping a straight face and not giggling.

Anyone who knew me in elementary school will tell you that this is the area where all my plans fell flat. I could plan shenanigans like nobody's business, but I could never stop the giggling. Still can't. I've learned, as an adult, to team up with someone else, and I'll come up with the idea and let them have all the fun. It's kind of lame, but works a lot better than laughing like an idiot and giving the game away.

Today, however, it's going to just be me and her, so that's not really an option. I thought about drawing funny pictures all over my abdomen with a marker, just so she could look at them and think, "What the hell is wrong with this lady?" I decided against it, though, as my doctor has the power to have me institutionalized (I think) and I'd rather not risk it.

No, I have no good comeback for, "Have you thought about trying to lose some weight?" As if she hasn't seen me a billion times and as if I haven't talked to her EVERY YEAR about why it's so hard for me to lose weight even when I'm really good. As if that isn't pretty much the thought that has consumed every waking hour of every day since I was eight.

Yeah, no, lady. I've never thought about trying to lose weight. Why? You think I should?

Ugh. THIS is the Barbie I should've played with as a kid…would've given me much more realistic expectations of what I'd look like as a grown-up (although with way less makeup and fewer chins).

Go, fat Barbie, go! You can tell she's not worried about losing weight, as she's completely cellulite-free and she's wearing fabulous shoes. So, still not realistic, but I bet her doctor doesn't ask her that asinine question. If she did, Barbie would probably tell her to go fly a kite (or some other variation of that type of saying).

Maybe that's what I should do. Tell my 120-lb. doctor to go fly a kite. Yeah.

Not going to happen, but at least I can dream.