The One with the New Licence

The Registry of Motor Vehicles in Backwoods is as big as a single room. When I went to get my licence in high school, there wasn't a line-up, there wasn't a take-a-number, and there was a mirror on the wall to check your hair before they take your picture.

Today I had to go to Access Nova Scotia (a fancier name for a fancier building that gives prettier licence cards?) to update my licence before it expires on my birthday (next Saturday, for those who care slash are interested). They had a five-letter classification system for helping you with a problem. Renewing your licence is letter A. I was A83, and when I first got my number it was only at A70.

So I sat in the comfy seat and read my biography of Audrey Hepburn until they called my name (30 minutes later).

At first they weren't going to update my picture. They were just going to change my address.

Lady: So, we're going to update your address, is that all? Okay, that'll be $72.10, please.
Sessa: Okay. Wait! Do I get a new picture too? I'm fat in that picture. I'm not fat now.
Lady: Umm, okay. I'll give you a new picture after you pay.

I'm not talking my-face-is-bloated-because-I'm-surfing-the-crimson-wave kind of fat, I'm talking you've-lost-the-weight-of-a-third-grader-since-I-last-saw-you fat. People don't recognize me anymore.

And it's nothing that I actively did to lose the weight, it just started coming off. Maybe puberty finished and I lost the remenants of my baby fat? Hopefully. Boss wants me to go to a doctor and get my thyroid checked, but I'm scared. For someone who watches so many medical shows, I'm a chicken in real life. If it's something bad (like thyroid cancer or incurable cancer or something extremely rare with a 3% survival rate) then I don't want to know. I'd rather live obliviously.

Anyways, after getting my new licence with new picture, I went to Walmart and bought the first season of Grey's Anatomy on DVD with the birthday money from my grandmother. It must be tough times in Halifax (slash for the Walmart company) if the most recent seasons of Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, Desperate Housewives, and House are all $24.00 while the seasons immediately prior are all $54.00. Not sure how that works, considering the more expensive seasons took place during the writers strike.

It's unseasonably warm in Halifax today too, not that I'm complaining. It snowed last week (I'm sure you'll find the picture down below somewhere). And last year on my birthday, it snowed. It's also a (broken) tradition that it snows on Remembrance Day here, but it didn't this year.