Ok, I worry, I mean who doesn't? I worry about the cost of meat, money, if I am being too tough on my kids, if I'm being not tough enough on my kids, giving my husband enough support, nagging my husband too much, you name it I'll worry about it. You might call me the Queen no Goddess of Worry. I'm that good.
I've been a little off lately, not sick exactly, just off. I'm tired, my skin doesn't look so good, I'm working out like a mad woman (well at least by my standards) and not loosing any weight, inches but not weight. I eat tons better than I used to, but I feel blah. I know my body and I feel like something is not right, so what do I do, I go to the doctor. I like my doctor, he's a personable person, he has a good sense of humor, etc. etc. But today he tortured and made fun of me (in a good-humored way). He & his clan sucked 7 vials of blood from my body for testing - holy moly yes, 7. I feel like I've been drained by a vampire. He is testing for everything and I do mean everything. This will either prove that I am sick, or prove that I am a car carrying Hypochondriac.
Maybe I could just have a vitamin deficency, then I wouldn't be sick or labeled a hypochondriac.
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