The Doctor…
I went to the doctor the other day and received some bad news – I’m fat. I was skeptical at first, so I asked for a second opinion. He brought in a mirror. Dude did his homework, it was a textbook diagnosis. Our conversation went as follows:
Doctor: “Based on your body mass index, you’re overweight and borderline obese.”
Me: “Hmm, what are my options?”
Doctor: “Options? You have a beer gut, not cancer. You need to exercise, eat healthier, and stop drinking.”
I was still thinking about how awesome the carne asada burrito I ate for lunch was, so all I really heard was “beer gut and stop drinking.” Convinced I misunderstood, I continued questioning him.
Me: “So, you want me to stop drinking beer and only drink hard alcohol because it’s better for me, right?”
Doctor: “What? No. Hard alcohol isn’t better for you. Is that what you think?”
Me: “Well, you just said I had a “beer gut,” not a “whiskey gut”?”
I actually really thought hard alcohol was better for you. It smells like rubbing alcohol which is used to disinfect cuts and the school nurse would always dip the thermometer in it before she put it under your tongue.
Doctor: “Well, if you’re an occasional drinker, I would recommend you switch to mixed drinks with diet soda. On average they contain 100 less calories than regular beer.
Me: Hmm, and how do you define an “occasional drinker?”
Doctor: Ok, now you’re fat and an alcoholic.
-D.A.
