I hate needles. I hate needles. I hate needles. I hate needles. Yep, I hate needles. You get the picture. And tomorrow I have to get blood drawn for a series of diagnostic tests. Needless to say, I'm freakin' the f%*k out in anticipation. I'm such a wimp.
This is going to be way more difficult than getting my dangling bits groped by the male doctor and an ultrasound tech. There are six things that may happen at 9 a.m. tomorrow...
1. I may throw up.
2. I may pass out.
3. I may (unintentionally) smack the nurse.
4. I may run away while screaming like a girlie b#tch.
5. I may cry.
6. I can man up and take a prick without causing a scene.
Let's hope No. 6 happens, otherwise it's going to be embarrassing. I wonder if they charge more for Nos. 1 through 5?