I had a date with my doctor once. It was a regular female exam which are extremely important, ehem right ladies?

Anyway, I reluctantly gave my name when they called me, knowing that the dreaded, "moment of truth" - the weigh-in - was imminent.

I stripped off my shoes, my purse, my hair tie, and everything else that might add an ounce to scale and took my chances with the Gods.

Feeling deflated, I was shown to the exam room, where I was hit by a blast of hot air that made me sweat like a sinner in church.

I noticed a fan on the floor and decided to be proactive by turning it on.

Just as I sat down, in walks the doc, all business.

After some chit-chat, she got down to the nitty-gritty and I hopped onto the table and we did the body stuff. Suddenly, we both noticed it was hotter than Cuba. I mean, I was sweating like a pig and the doc was probably regretting wearing a white coat.

I wondered why the damn fan wasn't working. And then, the good doctor voiced what we were both thinking, "Why is it hotter than the sun in here?"

I was wondering why it felt like the earth's core, all while the fan, in my mind, was just sitting there, mocking me with its inactivity.

As she walked over to what I believed was the "fan," she exclaimed, "What the heck? Why is the heater blasting?"

I was mortified. Here I was, sweating bullets, looking like I just ran a marathon, and all because I mistakenly turned on the heater, thinking it was the fan.

No wonder the temperature was hotter than the devil's armpit. I thought I was about to be diagnosed with some rare tropical disease, but turns out, it was just my own foolishness.

Consider me your personal cautionary tale.

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