Perfectly Normal

I went for a bone density exam this week.

Walking in the room, Sheila, the x-ray technician greeted me with, “Well, how are you today, my friend?”

Then she told me to step on the scale.

Hey, Sheila, friends don’t make friends step on the scale.

When she announced my weight, I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

She nodded, pointing to the undesirable number.

“I usually weigh X” I said, stepping off the scale.

“Hmmm,” she said.

“I had a big breakfast,” I said.

She rolled her eyes.

“Really big,” I added.

I hadn’t, but it was important that I build a compelling case.

She wrote something in her folder.

No, no writing!

“Also, we had family in town this weekend,” I said. “So we ate and drank more than usual.”

The evidence was mounting.

She sighed.

I wasn’t sure if this was a sympathetic sigh or an ‘are you clinically insane’ sigh?

“I’ll need to get your height,” Sheila said.

Excuse me, Sheila, but we haven’t settled on a weight. 

Did she think I was just going to take her first offer?

Clearly, Sheila didn’t understand how negotiations worked.

You throw out a number, I counter your number, and then we both present our best arguments.

“I was three pounds lighter on my scale,” I told her. “Your scale is definitely off.”

Sheila said, “We just need to measure you so we can get going on your bone density scan.”

I stood, frozen.. Neither of us spoke. She looked up from her clipboard, slowly raising her pencil. We locked eyes.

It was like High Noon in the Los Robles Imaging Center, Room 2.

Finally, I broke the silence. “How about we say I weigh X?”

Sheila flipped her pencil and tapped the eraser on her folder. “I guess I could take off a pound,”  she relented.

“Two and a half.”

“One and a half.”

“Two.”

Sold.

Sheila erased the horrific number and entered a slightly less horrific number.

Now, you’re getting the hang of this.

We did the same song and dance for my height.

“I’m going to ask that you not stand on your tip-toes,” Sheila said. 

That Sheila was a real fan of the flat foot.

I tried the argument, “In my heyday, I was definitely 5’3”.

Sheila said, Lady, your heyday was a looooong time ago.

She didn’t say those words out loud.

She said them with her eyes.

Once we finished closing arguments, I laid on the table and a scanner x-rayed my bones.

Two days later, the doctor called with the results.

In summary…

I’m 5’2” ½,

I weigh X,

And my bone mass is perfectly normal.

Just like me.