rubens, rubens, i barely knew ye
That Rubens. What a guy. Immortalizing plump flesh as beautiful and healthy. Of course, that's not all he did, but it's all anyone seems to remember.
I looked this afternoon at the Portrait of Susanne Lunden (La chapeau de paille). Maybe she had to take Florinef too. Looks like it.
Okay, now I feel better.
Florinef is a corticosteroid which, in my case, is an antihypotensive. It's made me, literally, swell, which is a dismaying turn of events unless you're a balloon and swelling is your sole function in life. I pointed this out at the doctor's office this afternoon during my checkup and she agreed with me, laughing.
Yeah, well, that's the way it is. Corticosteroids will do that to you.
My blood pressure was 100/60. She could hear the murmur. We discussed some medications and agreed I've had them added, removed, switched and tweaked quite a lot in the past few months, so it's best to just make any new changes slowly -- one at a time.
I had the kids with me. I gave the youngest my cell phone and told him to call his imaginary friend (he did, curled up in a chair, chatting on his cell, looking like a very tiny businessman). The middle child got to lay on the examining table (I perched at the end of it). The teenager sat by the desk, slouched, all arms and legs -- clearly bored.
Obviously my distress over recent weight gain didn't curb my appetite any; I took them to Dairy Queen, after. I ordered hot dogs and chicken sandwiches and fries for the kids and a Butterfinger Blizzard for me. I saw myself in the reflection of the drive-thru window and involuntarily thought of Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones' Diary.
Later, back at the ranch, my four-year-old sat on my lap and drew squiggles with a Sharpie marker all over the right leg of my denim capri pants. This was while I was lying flat on the couch with one hand over my forehead contemplating the meaning of my existence.
It's not advisable to contemplate one's existence in a state of semi-consciousness. You may awaken with graffiti all over you.
I looked this afternoon at the Portrait of Susanne Lunden (La chapeau de paille). Maybe she had to take Florinef too. Looks like it.
Okay, now I feel better.
Florinef is a corticosteroid which, in my case, is an antihypotensive. It's made me, literally, swell, which is a dismaying turn of events unless you're a balloon and swelling is your sole function in life. I pointed this out at the doctor's office this afternoon during my checkup and she agreed with me, laughing.
Yeah, well, that's the way it is. Corticosteroids will do that to you.
My blood pressure was 100/60. She could hear the murmur. We discussed some medications and agreed I've had them added, removed, switched and tweaked quite a lot in the past few months, so it's best to just make any new changes slowly -- one at a time.
I had the kids with me. I gave the youngest my cell phone and told him to call his imaginary friend (he did, curled up in a chair, chatting on his cell, looking like a very tiny businessman). The middle child got to lay on the examining table (I perched at the end of it). The teenager sat by the desk, slouched, all arms and legs -- clearly bored.
Obviously my distress over recent weight gain didn't curb my appetite any; I took them to Dairy Queen, after. I ordered hot dogs and chicken sandwiches and fries for the kids and a Butterfinger Blizzard for me. I saw myself in the reflection of the drive-thru window and involuntarily thought of Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones' Diary.
Later, back at the ranch, my four-year-old sat on my lap and drew squiggles with a Sharpie marker all over the right leg of my denim capri pants. This was while I was lying flat on the couch with one hand over my forehead contemplating the meaning of my existence.
It's not advisable to contemplate one's existence in a state of semi-consciousness. You may awaken with graffiti all over you.
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