I went to see a doctor this morning about my intractable migraines. (And yes, I did get useful advice, which I think will help.) The doctor was very nice, although not the most personable guy. He endeared himself to me forever, though, when he looked through my chart murmuring to himself as he did. This is what I heard:
Doesn’t smoke. Good, good.
Doesn’t drink. Very good.
Ideal weight. Fine.
I tuned out after that last one. “La, la, la,” I sang to myself. “I’m the ideal weight. Woo-hoo.”
Those are the kinds of things that make a girl — oh, pardon, a woman — feel good.