One of my doctors once asked me if I was aware I was overweight. This was the same one who later told me, when I went in for a sore throat, that my throat was fine but I needed to lose 60 pounds. I weighed 155 at the time. Yes, I'm short, but I've got curves. They weigh something. (Doctors usually tell me that I should be between 110 and 115. I think I look best at 125 to 130. I'm still around 155, though.)
Ow. Just tried to copy a move from SYTYCD, and ended up subluxing a rib. At least it wasn't dislocated. Hospital visit was not in my plans for tonight. And, annoyingly, I've subluxed this same rib doing that exact same movement before. I'm possibly not so good at learning from my mistakes.
Sheesh, Hil. Can this Thursday get any more Monday-ish?
OK. Poking at my injured rib to see if it still hurts is stupid.
Also, it's definitely sticking out more than the same one on the other side. I don't think it's dislocated -- that would probably hurt way more than this -- but it doesn't seem quite right.
I'd do that badge thing. People can be so tiresome. Sometimes it's like a fight to hold my territory. MY territory. My pins would read something like: I say it that way because it's spelt that way; not African American; I've beaten you up ten times in my head already; they're not that big--it's that my ribs are small.
Would do for a start.
I figure if they know I'm straight at work it's because I have a tangential social acquaintance with one of them that preceded the job. Although they're up in each other's business I've told them I don't want to share. They're mostly good with it. But I've never talked about an ex or a potential object of lust.
The badge thing is interesting, although I think most things I'd want people to know up front would be a little off-putting.
Don't Talk to Me Before Caffeine. No, I Don't Write About People I Know. I *Have* Heard Smoking Is Bad For Me, Thanks.
OK. Icing rib now. Not sure what's going on, but the pain kept getting worse, rather than fading lik it ought to.
I think some of my badges would be: Don't tell me I f%(&^@ swear too much; No, I don't feel like smiling to make you feel good about yourself; Single at 50, and no, that does not make me gay; Dead sexy, but you wouldn't know it because you won't look past the glasses.
Ouch, Hil. I hope the icing helps, quickly.
Hil! No more dancing for you!
I just dropped my damned iPhone and broke the SECOND hardshell case I've owned for this thing. The phone is fine, but the case is trash. However, the people who make this case have a customer for life, since the broken case means a not broken expensive phone.
Hil! No more dancing for you!
This wasn't even dancing! I was seeing if I could do the thing that one of the guys on the show did where he clasped his hands behind his back and then, keeping the hands touching each other (or at least it sure looked that way), stepped his feet through so that his hands ended up in front. (Turns out that I can't do it, but if I lose about two inches off my hips I might be able to.) But it turns out my ribs don't particularly appreciate me bending that way.
