I might be kinda chunky, but that’s no call to be rude. I’m healthy, and happy as a pig in s**t.
But that don’t stop ‘em, do it?
You gotta be pre-diabetic, they say. And they take the blood and test it and it comes back normal.
So they tries another tack.
Three times this month I’ve sat in the doctor’s waiting room listening to people hawk and cough, all to keep some skinny woman with sour mouth happy.
Today my doctor passed away, age fifty. Stress they said.
I had me a cream doughnut in her memory.