So get this, my insurance company is refusing to pay for my arthroscopic hip surgery because they labeled it "plastic surgery." Apparently, when a surgeon grinds down a significant patch of bone on your body they can get away with this classification, no matter where that patch is located. I guess I now have the luscious curves that would render any female instantly jealous. Take that Barbie.
It doesn't matter that they openly paid for 6 months of physical therapy, MRIs, X-Rays, drugs (and lots of them), anesthesia, braces, post operative machinery, cooling units, nurses, an overnight hospital stay... Oh, the list goes on. They paid for the screws in my hip, but not the drill to apply them. Yup, that makes perfect sense.
I keep thinking of the Incredibles. You know that scene when Mr. Incredible is having his backside handed to him because he isn't rejecting enough legitimate claims? Cheers to you Mr. Incredible and your short little maniacal boss. We are changing the world one claim at a time.
Obviously, I'm not fighting the notion that my operation was plastic surgery. Alternatively, I'm sending them multiple before and after pictures of my lovely hips, to thank them for my new status upgrade. I am sure they will love the trendy scars that grace the front of my leg. They are seductive. I can see this sort of thing totally taking off throughout Europe. The nice bump of scar tissue that I massage every night only adds to my provocative new curves, a mouth-watering appeal for every young man who gawks at my hips, wide-eyed at the rec-center pool.
In fact, I'm thoroughly flattered they think I finally personify the "perfect female." It's definitely time to give the other side a whirl. I wouldn't want this hippy beauty to be asymmetrical...
~Roadburner
No comments:
Post a Comment