I was watching Roswell with my daughter the other night on Netflix (and no, I would not recommend it – not because it’s scary, because it definitely isn’t – but mostly because the guy who is supposed to be sexy just gives me the creeps, and I consider a television show a complete waste of time if I can’t have a crush on the lead actor) when it suddenly hit me that I am an alien.
It makes perfect sense when you think about it. And now that you are reading this, you are obviously thinking about it. But, you might have to think about it a bit longer than this to see the logic that led me to this conclusion. So, I guess I can’t say, “It makes perfect sense when you think about it.” Because that implies an immediacy to the sense-making that probably doesn’t really happen until you get a little more information. So, a better statement would be, “It makes perfect sense after you read the following paragraphs that give you the scientific reasoning that clearly leads to this conclusion, and no other.”
All my life I have been fearing that I would contract my mother’s hypochondria. The last few years, I have been consulting a few different doctors for various ailments that seem to elude any kind of definitive diagnosis. Thus, leading me to reluctantly admit that I, indeed, have developed full onset hypochondria with disturbingly realistic symptoms. I mean, if there is something really wrong with me, wouldn’t some doctor have figured it out by now?
Not. If. I. Have. An. Alien. Anatomy.
This would totally explain those times when I am positive than I have a raging fever, and the thermometer says my temp is 96.2. Well, for humans, that would be a bit low, but normal. But for an alien, that could very well be dangerously close to my brain exploding!
If I even have a brain.
My alien anatomy also completely supports my supposition that I am genuinely ill with some kind of real health issue and proves that my doctors’ implications that my pain is all in my head is just an indication that they are not well-versed in the physiology of other creatures who deserve to be treated without being accused of mental health problems.
I feel a bit sorry for my daughter because this all clearly means that she has some difficult times ahead of her. But, at least she will not have to worry about inheriting my hypochondria.
Whew. Dodged that bullet.