Little ol'lady.

Having failed so completely miserably at my "detox," I shouldn't have been at all surprised by my yearly physical, which I underwent last week, and which revealed that I can't have any more pasta, bread, rice or fun.  My doctor is wonderful, really a smart man who is not at all an alarmist, which is what I want in a doctor.  But I also had a consultation with another doctor who told me that I needed "weight bearing exercise" and that I could find this by getting off the bus one stop early and walking the extra two blocks.  Then she warned me that if I break my hip, I could develop sepsis in the hospital and drown in my pneumonia.  Clearly she had not read my chart to indicate my age, or maybe I had just gone into the wrong room.  Or maybe this was my doctor's way of telling me that I am aging prematurely.  I mean, can't they at least wait until I am forty for this shit?  Jeez!  But, if I am aging prematurely, maybe I can have a second career in the videos of Die Antwoord.