All-Bagel Diet Proven Unhealthy, But Not For The Reasons You Might Think

, , , , | Healthy | November 10, 2018

(I’ve struggled with disordered eating since I was fairly young; it flares up any time I get stressed and can last anywhere from just a few days to as long as a year. People who learn about my issues with food rarely take them seriously because I am overweight; I’m 5’5”, about 165 pounds, and a US size 12. At the time of this story I have been in college for about a year and am in the middle of a rough patch, and I decide to go to the university health center to seek help.)

Me: “I think I might have an eating disorder. Whenever I’m experiencing a lot of stress, I stop eating and spend all of my time in the gym.”

Doctor: *laughs* “I wish I had that problem! When I’m stressed, I head straight for the cookies! So, what brings you in here today?”

Me: “Uh… That’s why I’m here. I’m worried that I might have a problem because I starve myself.”

Doctor: *laughing again* “I hardly think you need to worry about that! A little less food and a little more exercise can only do you good!”

Me: “I… Are you sure? I mean, I’ve eaten two bagels in the last week.”

Doctor: “See, that’s your real problem! Carbs go straight to your gut, you know.”

Me: “I don’t think you understand; all I’ve eaten in the past seven days is two bagels. I tried to eat a sandwich yesterday, but I got so anxious I couldn’t swallow. I really think something is wrong.”

Doctor: “Well, if I were you, I’d try the Keto diet. It works great, and you’ll be in shape in no time!”

(I gave up then and asked her about some bruising on my limbs, for which she recommended iron supplements and weight loss. Fortunately, my roommate noticed my disordered eating a few days later and put me in touch with a local counseling clinic, where I got some actual help.)

Pray For This Child

| Sydney, NSW, Australia | Right | May 22, 2015

(A newborn baby is getting its first check up and gets the all clear.)

Nurse: “Any questions?”

Father: “Is it normal for the baby to pass wind?”

Has One-Stroke-Two A Brain

| Midlands, England, UK | Working | May 4, 2015

(A colleague of mine is known for her liking of trifle and always buys an expensive ready-made one. At my suggestion she decides to try homemade but, not being confident in the kitchen, first decides to try a box mix that contains everything in it, including a cream-type topping in a powder form that you mix with milk.)

Me: “Hey, how did the trifle making go last night?”

Colleague: “Well, I got the jelly and the custard part right, but couldn’t get the cream to work at all. It was so runny.”

Me: “Runny? How were you mixing it? It’s a really easy topping. Did you use a hand whisk or electric whisk?”

Colleague: “An electric whisk, as I thought that would be easier, but I whisked it for about 15 minutes and it still didn’t work.”

Me: “I can’t understand why it didn’t work then. Using an electric whisk should only take a minute, max. How about you go through the steps and let’s see if we can work it out.”

(By now several other colleagues are listening in:)

Colleague: “Well, I put the powder in a bowl, measured the milk and added it to the powder, and whisked. That’s all… Mind you, I wasn’t too sure of the amount of milk so I used almost two pints.”

Me: “Hang on a minute… How could you not be sure of the amount of milk? It tells you on the packet.”

Colleague: “Yes I know, but it said one to two pints and as I like the topping bit I decided to make the most I could, so used almost two pints.”

Me: “[Colleague], I think you’ve measured the milk wrong. It sounds too much but I can’t remember because I’ve not used a box mix for years.”

Colleague: “Well, it definitely said ‘One-stroke-two’ pints of milk.”

(At this point we all started laughing as we realise the packet must have said 1/2 pint (as in half a pint of milk) and she hadn’t known!)

Some Compliments Can Creep Up On You

| UK | Friendly | July 13, 2014

(I have just signed in at reception for an appointment, while an elderly man is headed for the door. I have long hair; it ends just above my bum.)

Elderly Man: “Mornin'”

Me: “Good morning.”

Elderly Man: “You have lovely hair you know.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Elderly Man: “It would look lovely draped over my silk pink cushion.”

(The elderly man leaves the office at a pace I did not realize he could move at.)

Me: “Erm… thanks?”

Receptionist: “It was a sort of compliment, I guess…”

(Luckily, I have not seen that man at the doctor’s again!)

Taking The Man Out Of Spiderman

| Canada | Right | July 2, 2014

(I work as a receptionist for my dad’s chiropractic office. Most of the patients are lovely, but we do have some odd ones. One patient in particular is a little bit sexist, but because he’s never intends to be outright rude, I just try to ignore his somewhat sexist comments. Today when he comes in he tries to play a little joke on me.)

Patient: *comes up to the desk and starts pointing at a random spot on it* “There’s a spider! Get it! Get it!”

(I casually look around, as I have had spiders sneak their way to my desk before, but I don’t see anything.)

Me: “Where is it? I don’t see it.”

Patient: *gives a bit of an odd look* “Right there! Get it!”

Me: *look again but still doesn’t see anything* “I still don’t see it. I guess it got away.” *shrugs*

Patient: *gives me another weird look* “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

Me: “Spiders don’t really bug me.”

Patient: “Oh… should I have said it was a snake?”

Me: “They don’t bug me either. I actually like snakes.”

Patient: *looks baffled* “What kind of woman are you?!”

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