I went to my doctor for my annual pap schmear.
My doctor is a tiny little Hispanic lady with a heavy accent.
"So... I'm thinking about going back on birth control," I said to her. She outlined several options. "Choo can haf an IUD," she offered.
"Nah, I'm not too keen about having a piece of copper in my body for five years," I answered. "I'm kind of good with the pill."
"Well," she said, her intelligent brown eyes sizing me up,"Choo haf to quit smoking."
"Oh! I know that. God! I'm all for it."
"Jes? Well. If you're 'all for eet', then I'm chur choo won't mind I don't write a script for the pills until choo quit smoking for a month."
I stared at her dumbly. "Are you serious?"
She nodded, her hand on her hips. "Oh, jes. I'm serious."
Uh... "Okay. I'll quit this Monday," I mumbled.
Goddamn doctors wanting me to be healthy and stuff. Shit.