Theeeeen-errrrrrr

I discovered on Saturday morning a very disgusting scene inside my body. The back of my throat, which had been painfully clattering about since 4AM, like two kids banging on a tile bathroom floor, was covered in bruises. My tonsils were raised to full attention, like the nipples of bears. And when I looked at my mouth in the mirror, the back of my mouth was an icy white. I remembered the time I had eaten a box of powdered donuts, denied it, then was forced to open my mouth to prove it. Denied.

I went to the doctor and was immediately diagnosed with Disgusting. I mean Strep Throat. I haven't had Strep Throat in a very long time, and so I only know it recently as the thing everyone is afraid of. I got a steroid shot and a prescription for anti-biotics and started feeling better within three hours. The doctor told me I might see some slight weight gain from the medication, which is a usual cause for panic in my disco, but I brushed it off, grateful that I'd be able to take a nap at some point.

I almost never go to the doctor, partly because it's expensive, but partly because I feel like the answer is always, "Yes, you look sick. Would you like a candy cane?" after a four hour wait in an office with people who actually need to be there. But as part of my Race to Adulthood, I'm trying to make things easier on myself. If I hurt, I'll ask a specialist so I stop hurting and can get back to having fun reading about disease prevention on Wikipedia.

Also, I hate pills. Especially steroids that make you retain water around your cheeks and your waist.

These pills I have been on this week made me gain 6 pounds. 6. Fucking. Pounds. I looked like a chipmunk.

And this morning, 24 hours after I stopped the pills, I peed for 72 seconds. Then, an hour later I peed again, for over 60 seconds. I looked at my face, and I went from Mahalia Jackson to La Toya Jackson between 6:30 and 8:30 AM. I feel like the guy in that movie Thinner because every time I walk by a mirror, my face is a little more scrubbed out. There are wrinkle lines rebuilding in my forehead that I was so happy to see go, even though by Monday my pants weren't even buckling. Hold on, I have to pee again.

Ok, I'm back. I love the idea of blaming weight gain or medically prescribed steroids. I think I'm going to start telling people that around Christmastime. "No, I'm not nervous about a week with the family...no, that's not why I'm eating at ALL. I'm on Prednisone, yes, JUST like Andrea Boceli, and it makes me puffy. What do you mean the powdered donuts are missing?"