Another Argument With Myself

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

I'm on the tail end of my 6 month plastic surgery adventure. I had to see the surgeon unexpectedly today to get a few stray sutures excavated that had become problematic.

The Crazy People Who Live In My Head: This is going to mess up today's workout! And this week's training schedule was already altered because of last weekend's travel!! CODE RED. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Voice of Reason: You're technically still recovering from surgery. And you're in so much pain from that new shoulder situation you had to take a freaking Percocet.

The Crazy: Your point being...?

VOR: It is perfectly reasonable to skip today's workout.

TC: Clearly, you are unaware the world will end.

VOR: You are actively bleeding from multiple incisions.

TC: It's only a flesh sound.

VOR: Sit the fuck down. Shut the fuck up.

TC: BUT....!!!

VOR: *brandishes duct tape*

TC: FINE. *stomps off to alphabetize something*

Seriously, y'all... this is me medicated. How did I even function before the anxiety pills?