I got a flu shot this week. I didn't want to, but my doctor guilt-tripped me into it by saying that even if I didn't come down with the flu, I might pass the virus to a person with a weakened immune system. All right, fine, I'll get the shot.
Betty knows my fear of needles well, so when I mentioned the vaccine today, she congratulated me on not fainting. "Did it hurt?" she asked.
"Not too badly," I said. "I got the shot up by my shoulder."
"Oh," she said. "Well, you could have asked to be injected on your ass instead."
She said this with such no-duh cadence that I began laughing. My mother, who is always suspicious when I start laughing, demanded to know what was so funny. I explained that receiving a shot in the arm is far preferable to showing off my dupa.
Betty's reply: "You think your doctor hasn't seen an ass before? Don't be silly! There's more fat in the butt, so it won't hurt as much."
"Oh, so now you're calling me a fat-ass," I said. "Nice, Mom. Really nice."
"No, no, no," she yelped. "I just mean that sometimes it's easier to pull your pants down and get a shot in the rear."
I honestly do not see how baring one's buttocks could possibly be easier than rolling up a sleeve. Maybe if you were wearing a chainmail t-shirt, but otherwise, wouldn't it be more work (and awkwardness) to drop trou? Then I thought of the unsuspecting physician. I imagined an innocent doctor expecting to dole out a simple arm injection, only to turn around and be greeted by naked cheeks waiting expectantly to be protected from influenza.
"I think I'll stick with getting shots in the arm," I told my mother.
"Remember, the butt is always an option," she replied.
We agreed to disagree.
Betty knows my fear of needles well, so when I mentioned the vaccine today, she congratulated me on not fainting. "Did it hurt?" she asked.
"Not too badly," I said. "I got the shot up by my shoulder."
"Oh," she said. "Well, you could have asked to be injected on your ass instead."
She said this with such no-duh cadence that I began laughing. My mother, who is always suspicious when I start laughing, demanded to know what was so funny. I explained that receiving a shot in the arm is far preferable to showing off my dupa.
Betty's reply: "You think your doctor hasn't seen an ass before? Don't be silly! There's more fat in the butt, so it won't hurt as much."
"Oh, so now you're calling me a fat-ass," I said. "Nice, Mom. Really nice."
"No, no, no," she yelped. "I just mean that sometimes it's easier to pull your pants down and get a shot in the rear."
I honestly do not see how baring one's buttocks could possibly be easier than rolling up a sleeve. Maybe if you were wearing a chainmail t-shirt, but otherwise, wouldn't it be more work (and awkwardness) to drop trou? Then I thought of the unsuspecting physician. I imagined an innocent doctor expecting to dole out a simple arm injection, only to turn around and be greeted by naked cheeks waiting expectantly to be protected from influenza.
"I think I'll stick with getting shots in the arm," I told my mother.
"Remember, the butt is always an option," she replied.
We agreed to disagree.
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