Reason 140

Alien ancestry. When I was nine or so my parents started taking me to the doctor on a fairly regular basis, even though I never complained of illness. Several times I had multiple vials of blood drawn, becoming such a regular in the lab that Scottie, the phlebotomist, knew me by name and was the only person I allowed to repeatedly jab the crook of my arm with a needle. I also submitted urine samples to the whitecoats, laid still as a statue for a CAT scan, and drank a noxious orange liquid in order to prep my tummy for an ultrasound. Being the trusting (or perhaps naive) daughter that I was, I never asked my mom or dad why I was undergoing so much medical testing, and then after a few months it all abruptly stopped with no explanation as to why. Over time all of those visits became a distant memory that I occasionally dredged up and pondered, just one more quirk to put on my personality resume. During my freshman year of college I told my roommates about my experience and they were so intrigued (and I think a little freaked out) that they demanded I call my mother immediately and get an explanation. With trembling hands I dialed the phone and, my voice quivering, asked my mom why she had dragged me to Group Health so many times in 4th grade. Her answer? She had no idea what I was talking about. Cue the shocking music! After relaying this news to my gal pals we came up with the only possible explanation: I am an alien. Or perhaps I was part of some top-secret government program. I prefer the alien theory, though. It would explain my strange eating habits, the unexplained dot that appeared on the bottom of my foot when I was 14, and my affinity for Flight of the Navigator. To top it all off, a few years ago I asked my personal physician about the testing and she found documentation of it in my records, but no explanation. As creepy as all of this is, it is also kind of cool, one more thing that sets me apart from the herd of normalcy. I bet none of your other friends can boast about alien connections, Jason. On second thought, you do live in L.A...