Insults, insults...

You would think that having reached a certain age you would command enough respect from those significantly younger.

Most recent insults are in reverse chronological order but not by severity.

During a recent trip to my doctor, I was referred to a cardiologist to have a stress test and EKG done. After completing the stress test the cardiologist came in and went over the results with me. He asked me some questions aimed at identifying any obvious symptoms like, do you have pain here, here, or HERE. After responding negatively to all the standard doctor questions, he kind of rolled his eyes and dismissed me with, "Well, Mr. Olson, there is really nothing we can see that is wrong with your heart..." (Except for the fact that my dad died of a heart attack at the same age, you moron...) and "come back if you have any symptoms I described..." (wouldn't I be dead?) Then as a final aside he said, "Pick up that chair..." (ahhh, another test to check out my strength, dexterity...) I complied and lifted the chair easily and anxiously awaited the results of this new, yet simple, test. "You are carrying around that chair all day, every day. Lose the chair..." with that, he spun and left the exam room. Ouch. Just tell me I'm fat. I don't need an object lesson.

Numero Dos. Just before the new year I decided it was time for my semi-annual haircut. I just forget to go to the barber until my hair is way out of control. I walked into Super Cuts, which is like the Kmart of hair salons. Usually I get a non-english speaking woman to cut my hair but on this occasion I got some old guy whose first comment to me was..."you look horrible with long hair..." (hence the reason I am here Einstein...) He goes on, "you need to have a shorter hair cut like Harrison Ford..." (hey, I see your point, we are like twins...) Now, I have always been used to scissor cuts, he starts with scissors then moves on to an object I only have seen done to others, an electric razor that has a "number" associated with the blade...I have no idea what he is talking about when he says "number 4" but I soon, unfortunately find out. This is no haircut, this is a massacre. By the time I can object, my head is virtually shaved. I cannot pinch my hair. Proudly, he states "This is how you should wear your hair and promise me you will never let it grow out long again...long hair just doesn't work on you." Okay, so now I am fat and BALD! Thank you very much. Adding insult to injury I actually tipped him.

Last but not least. I stopped on my way home at a place that had my favorite teriyaki bowls to go. The young girl behind the counter took my order, and I decided to order a second bowl for my mom whom I had just talked to on the cell phone and I told her I would bring her by some dinner. So as I ordered I casually added (thinking that it would sound thoughtful) "Let me get a second bowl for my mom too..." To which she responded with a look of disdain and disbelief, "You still live with your mother???"

Okay, so I am a middle aged fat, bald guy who lives with his mother...can it get any worse?