This Body is Closed for Business (and no, that doesn’t mean what it sounds like)

Today I went for a walk. Twice. I had a PB&J for breakfast/lunch, a small snack, and a sensible dinner. I drank lots of water, and my midnight (er, 1:00 a.m.) snack is some hot tea and an apple. Yes, well, there was a minor indiscretion at Starbucks earlier, but I think the second walk took care of that.

All this healthy living comes courtesy of my otherwise lovely doctor who had the audacity last week to tell me that I have high cholesterol. Now there are at least two things wrong with this. First, high cholesterol is for old people. Working off the thirty-is-the-new-twenty model, however, I am barely old enough for a quarter-life crisis (What? I’ll only have to live to 132), much less a crisis my granny had to deal with. Second, and most importantly, I absolutely, positively, and rather vehemently REFUSE to have high cholesterol.

I already have rheumatoid arthritis, Crohn’s, and possibly lupus, in addition to all the other more minor maladies, such as perpetually angry sinuses and a soupcon of short-term memory loss, that occasionally plague me. I take ten pills a day and sixteen on Fridays. I simply will not accept any more entries on my medical chart.

So I have an announcement to make to any potential illnesses, conditions, or nuisances that are considering taking up residence on, in, or anywhere near my person: I am OFF LIMITS. Closed for business. Go find a stable, ‘cause there’s no more room at the inn. And if that means I have to forego butter (I miss your warm, artery-clogging embrace already, old friend) and eat an apple instead, then pass the freakin’ bushel, ‘cause this chick holds no quarter for you and your misbegotten kind.

That is all.  Carry on…

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