I had a mammogram the other day. That’s not really news. I’ve had lots in my lifetime. Scary family history will do that to you.
It’s not a big deal for me. Not particularly painful. Mostly inconvenient. And hey, they got rid of the pink robes. Now they even allow smart phones to be used while you wait. That place is getting better and better.
I liked the technician/nurse. She was also turning fifty this year and thinking about active vacation ideas. Lots to talk about there.
Then she started comparing my new images with my old ones from a year and a half ago.
“Whoa, you’ve lost a lot of weight.”
I tell her not that much really but I have swapped some fat for muscle.
I waited, expecting a pat on the back, some congratulations. None came.
Instead, she asked if it was intentional, if I was happy that I’ve lost weight. I explain about my big summer of riding. That’ll do it, she said.
It wasn’t until I was on my way of the hospital that I realized how unusual this encounter was. Neutral acknowledgement of weight loss. Nice.
You’ve lost weight isn’t a compliment, as Tracy noted awhile back. It’s just a fact.