Despite my earlier visual love affair with my Number One Medical Man, I am starting to really hate going to the doctor. They never tell me what I want to hear... or need to hear, which would be telling me that I am just fine. Instead, they keep adding to the tally of miserable incurable illnesses. At first it was just Meniere's Disease. But that wasn't enough (even though they got the diagnosis wrong) they had to add Severe TMJ, Osteoarthritis, Anxiety, Fibromyaglia, aaannnnddd (drum roll please) High Blood Pressure.
Ba BOOM, baby! It's like hitting the mother load jackpot for stupid illnesses. Honestly, if I could get a decent night's sleep, I wouldn't have any of the above. However, if I add one more thing to the list I'm gonna scream, even if it is just insomnia.
And yet... what am I gonna do? Whine about it? Well, I could, but then I end up adding Depression to the list and that's just not cool. I have enough crap going on in my life as it is. I decided that I was going to start with the number one way to crack down on High Blood Pressure: EXERCISE!!! Everyone jump for joy! According to one of the MANY doctors I go to, forty-five minutes of elevated heart rate will help with all the stinkers on my list. It's not like I have been sitting on my can or anything.... okay, I have been sitting on my can. But I have a really good excuse.
IT'S FREAKING COLD OUTSIDE.
Not like a wussy 30 degrees or anything (that sounds super warm actually), but a frigid, booger freezing 5 degrees. Not only is it cold, it's also the glorious time of the year for mucky red air day inversions. Cold and gross out? Awesome. I took about five seconds to whine about it to the doc, before she gave me "doctor face". GASP! Doctor Face is not the super cool Matt Smith Dr. Who smirk where we all gear up for an awesome adventure in the TARDIS either (I love that show!). She gave me the "GET YOUR FAT BUTT OFF THE COUCH AND GET YOUR BIG GIRL UNDIES ON!!!" look. That is Doctor Face. And you absolutely CANNOT argue with it.
So, I got my big girl undies on.
I went to the sport's store, single handedly gave the innovators at Under Armor a big fat bonus by buying all their thermal wear, and then... I put on everything I bought (It was a good four or five layers at least). I leashed up the dog and walked out into the bitter cold morning. Let me just state here, that I did NOT turn around and go back inside like any normal and sane person would. No, I mapped out five miles (3 of which were uphill) and started walking.
When it is a whopping seven degrees out, there are several things going through a person's mind. 'What the HELL was I thinking' is on frequent repeat, but other discoveries about my body were made. Like, when the fat on my thighs freeze and I can't feel them slapping together any longer. Or the curious feeling of knowing that I have butt jiggle, but have absolutely NO control over it (Can't when my gluteus is completely numb). I have learned that lungs are optional and chest pain is relative (though feeling for a heart rate is more difficult). Fluids have a tendency to appear out of nowhere. When the face is frozen solid and the skin is immobile (Who needs Botox anyway?) stuff comes out, willy nilly without warning and then freezes. I had snotsicles, tearsicles and droolsicles. Those hot models for Nike and Athleta have nothing on me. When I bust a move on the pavement, I am one sexy chic.
And I get to do this every day.
So, if you are out in the chill bumming around in your car with the heat on full blast, sucking down a hot beverage and dreaming about palm trees and sandy beaches... know that I am out there, getting my groove on. Spare a warm thought for me.