Ruminating

I cannot stop ruminating over what happened in my two appointments with Dr. S. (my GP) last week. Before the first appointment I was in the waiting room, flipping through a French edition of Vogue, filled to the brim with emaciated models or Lollipop Ladies, as I like to call them – child-women who look like waxen dolls with heads too large for their bodies. I showed it Dr. S. during our appointment. He skimmed through it muttering, ‘She’s too thin, she’s too thin.’

‘Then why is it in your waiting room then,’ I snapped.

Dr. S.said he would keep it in his office and that he might find it useful because he was/is studying French at night classes. I told him that I obtained an ‘A’ for my French GCSE but it was pretty useless because, while my reading skills aren’t too bad, aurally and orally, I’m pretty abysmal and I can just about manage to order food in restaurants and ask for directions. Dr. S. said that was about all he could do at the moment but that he hoped to improve.

And then I made what I fear may have been a fatal mistake.

(To Be Continued…)