Last year I took the dog into the vet for his annual shots. Henry's a big boy and it takes two to lift him up on the table for the exam. The doctor looked him over and weighed him. 89#. That's too heavy, she said, how much do you feed him? I told her and then said, you know, I've got three kids and they tend to give him a bone just for looking cute. The vet's assistant says, "Sounds to me like you have a discipline problem in your house." What did you just say? "Maybe you should make sure bones aren't being passed out all day."
Everyone kept going about their business like nothing happened and I hadn't just been bitch slapped by somebody who smells like dog. Hellooooo.....customer here. Me and my fat dog can take our business elsewhere. I came home and told everyone I knew that story and they went all Jerry Springer and said, Girl, She Did Not Say That. Oh yes, she did. She dissed my parenting.
This year I took Henry back to Cruella DeVille's House of Dog and when they put him on the scale he weighed 80#. A nine pound weight loss, thank you very much. Wow, I say, that's great and everybody goes about their business like I'm not the next Jenny Craig. He needs his teeth cleaned and Pretend Vet says he may have an infected tooth and didn't we talk about this last year?
Did we? I can't remember, but I've got a whole year to lift weights and inject testosterone, cuz next time me and My Fat Friend go in for shots, I'm taking her down.