Oprah and I finally have something in common besides curly hair. It’s an amazingly fun thing called hypothyroidism. Today, after years of “what the heck is wrong with me?” I finally got my diagnosis. Turns out I’m not just naturally lazy. There’s a reason I long to take a nap at any given point of the day. I’m now excusably lazy! (And somehow this belongs on a t-shirt)

So today we got some unexpected snow and ice. Not much, just enough to mess up the morning commute. Normally that would thrill me and have me watching the news for closings, but today I HAD to get to this appointment. Had I known what was waiting for me two hours away, I might have stayed home.

I got three shots in the bootay. The first two I had to administer myself. That was camera worthy. (I’m not into pain.) The doctor showed me how it was done, got me set up, needle poised in my hand, and kept saying, “Okay, now. Jennifer, now’s good. STICK THE NEEDLE IN!!!” But when you’re about to violate your own butt cheek, these things take finesse and time. You can’t rush into it. I personally felt like I should’ve said a few words of comfort and bolstering to my back side before inflicting punishment, but Dr. C didn’t agree.

When it was time for the third shot the good doctor took over. She said there would be a little more “stinging.” Stinging? That woman lit my butt ON FIRE. She said, “If I started with that one, nobody would stick around for the other two.” Um, ya THINK? So like eight hours later I’m still not quite right. I have a derrière disability. A gluteus maximum gimping. I don’t know what was in that last shot, besides liquid lightning, but it could be used to torture the truth out of criminals.

And if you’re one of my students reading this and you even dare to mention butt shots to me, I will wipe out your grade, do you hear me??? (Just kidding, parents. I would never do that. That’s threatening a students. That’s wrong.) (Seriously kids, zero tolerance. I have access to our grade server. I can make sure your graduation is light years away.)

Other fun effects of today’s appointment include a new diet I must follow for at least a month. Chocolate is not allowed. WHAT THE HECK??? Is life even worth living? Is there a thyroid transplant wait list so a girl can get some chocolate? And I can’t eat wheat supposedly for like ever. That’s like telling me I’m allowed to only breathe through one nostril. Nearly impossible! So I’ll be eating figs and lettuce and cardboard for the next few months. Should put me in a real fine mood. My first hour class eats Pop Tarts in front of me every morning. I have a feeling tomorrow am. I’m gonna turn into that witch from Little Mermaid on them. Totally hulk out and beg them for their icing crumbs.

After all this, you know what I need? A snow day.
And a box of Twinkies.