Lost things
Currently at the dermatologist to fix my face. 2014 was an emotionally trying year for me and I kind of let myself go. Of course I don't deny that there were and are people in situations way less comfy so no drama queen on my part. Just admitting that I struggled is all.
I'm sitting in the waiting room now that I've had acid applied to my face and been punctured/ scraped with pointy implements, voluntarily. Oh what we do for vanity. I mean, confidence and that. I look like Freddy Krueger. No offence to Freddy. I bet he's really nice once you get to know him.
Another one of my empowering self esteem pursuits is "exercising." In inverted commas because I mostly just flail, whimper, tremble and fall about. I could be fitter.
So I was at the gym yesterday evening after much deliberation and trying to get multiple friends to convince me that I was too unwell to go (I could be more motivated too, maybe). I was dying on the I-don't-even-know-what-the-dangly-ab-people-hanger-is-called when I see one of my patients walk in. I thought I was safe from bumping into patients because I live fairly far from the hospital but no. Turns out, texting my friend hysterically did not erect an impenetrable fortress preventing said patient from seeing me or talking to me.
Eye contact was made and I ask "How's your hand going?" despite knowing exactly how it's going because I treated it for 6 weeks before discharging the guy. Then there was this awkward pause as I glanced at how many kilograms his machine was set to and internally made judgements about his return to normal daily activities. Then the pause increased in awkwardness when he read my t-shirt which had 'I AM AN OCCUPATIONAL THERAPIST - I SOLVE PROBLEMS YOU DON'T KNOW YOU HAVE...' printed over the front in huge bold letters.
Seriously, the one time I wear that shirt in public.
I'm sitting in the waiting room now that I've had acid applied to my face and been punctured/ scraped with pointy implements, voluntarily. Oh what we do for vanity. I mean, confidence and that. I look like Freddy Krueger. No offence to Freddy. I bet he's really nice once you get to know him.
Another one of my empowering self esteem pursuits is "exercising." In inverted commas because I mostly just flail, whimper, tremble and fall about. I could be fitter.
So I was at the gym yesterday evening after much deliberation and trying to get multiple friends to convince me that I was too unwell to go (I could be more motivated too, maybe). I was dying on the I-don't-even-know-what-the-dangly-ab-people-hanger-is-called when I see one of my patients walk in. I thought I was safe from bumping into patients because I live fairly far from the hospital but no. Turns out, texting my friend hysterically did not erect an impenetrable fortress preventing said patient from seeing me or talking to me.
Eye contact was made and I ask "How's your hand going?" despite knowing exactly how it's going because I treated it for 6 weeks before discharging the guy. Then there was this awkward pause as I glanced at how many kilograms his machine was set to and internally made judgements about his return to normal daily activities. Then the pause increased in awkwardness when he read my t-shirt which had 'I AM AN OCCUPATIONAL THERAPIST - I SOLVE PROBLEMS YOU DON'T KNOW YOU HAVE...' printed over the front in huge bold letters.
Seriously, the one time I wear that shirt in public.
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