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Thursday, February 11, 2010

Take your Vitamins

I love my mother. I really do. But she has an unnatural obsession with vitamins. Are you having a bad day? Take your vitamins. Your hair won’t curl? Are you taking your vitamins? Chop your leg off with the lawnmower? Take your vitamins, you’ll be fine.

My mother’s goal in life is to make sure her children are not mineral deficient. You see, everything that is wrong with your life can be chalked up to being low on B or iron.

“How are you today, honey?”
“I’m fine. A little tired. I didn’t get home from work until 11pm and then I had to let the dogs play for awhile and then get back up at 4am for work.”
“Are you taking your vitamins?”
“No, Mom.”
“I bet that’s why you’re tired.”
“No, Mom, I’m pretty sure I’m tired because I only got 3 hours of sleep.”
“Take your vitamins anyway. You’re probably low on B. And iron.”
“Ok, Mom.”
“Are you going to take your vitamins?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You promise?”
(this will go on for several repetitions)
“Ok, Mom, gotta go.”

Sometimes I lie. It’s easier. I suppose it wouldn’t be that hard to make my mother happy and just take the damn vitamins. But have you ever tasted B? Two hours later it still tastes like a cat peed in your mouth. And washing it down with something doesn’t help. It just ruins the flavor of whatever you drank.

In a desperate attempt to prevent my hair and teeth from falling out, my skin from peeling off, and my organs from shriveling up, my mother finally sent me a bottle of Flintstones chewables. Admittedly, I take them religiously, in spite of the vitamins they contain, because they remind me of being a kid.

After being put on a diuretic I was experiencing muscle fatigue, to the point that my tongue would get tired when I ate. Seriously. So I called my doctor and let her know. She asked if I was taking a multi-vitamin. I said I was. She asked what kind. I said Flintstones chewables. She was quiet for a moment. Then she says, I think it’s time you start taking a big girl vitamin. You need potassium, and I’m sure you’re low on B.”

My mother got to her, too.

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