J'etais au docteur hier apres-midi pour voir si je pouvais faire une regime. I hate that word, weight-loss. It's not supposed to be about numbers on a scale, it's supposed to be about lifestyle changes. Ever since I've moved to Europe, I've slacked off from my normal program and the result is extra poundage and a sore knee and breathlessness when I walk uphill or even just walk. Ce n'est pas bon.

So I went to see this man. He was alright for about 5 minutes and then he started fannying about BMI, blood-glucose, diabetes, etc...

"My goodness, " I said to him "You make it sound as if I'm at death's door already."

"Well, regardless of what you think about BMI you *obviously* need to see Sister (that's what they call their nurses here - yuck) about getting your blood pressure and blood glucose level monitored."

He mentionned that scourge of organizations, Weight Watchers. Oh great, last thing that I want is to sit in a roomful of dieters who hate themselves while 2 or 3 very bitchy women dole out sadistic and humiliating statements about your "progress" in front of everyone.

He was an arrogant, condescending, patronizing jerk: in short, like every other doctor I've seen except for my brilliant doctor back home.

I left the clinic, tore up his stupid card and the questionnaire that they asked me to fill out. I'm determined to get back to the system I was on before, not to "lose weight" on their own terms.