No, no, NO!

Good evening!

So Noelle C. has revealed her quirks to me.  We all know she likes to get very graphic about her descriptions of other people, right down to removing her clothing to prove a point.  But this week I've discovered something a tiny bit creepier:

She thinks she and I are twins.

I can see some similarities.  I mean, we are both round ladies who live in Wisconsin and work for Dunder Mifflin.

End of the similarities.

However, I wore a top yesterday, and she said she liked it.  I thanked her.  She then said, "See....I have the exact same clothes in my closet.  We are twins!"

Friends, I have no illusions about how I dress.  I am business casual for the fluffy girl who recently was told to wear loose clothing due to a skin issue.  The words "tailored" and "sleak" are nowhere in my wardrobe descriptions.

That said, I'd like to think there's a tiny bit of difference in the way I dress from that of my older...much older...counterpart.

That aside, there are a few other things that convince me we are not twins, and she's a bit of a whackadoo.

She tells everyone in the office she loves them.

Not the joking, "Hey, I love how you're so hilarious!"  No, she tells people this in a serious, eye contact, "I really do love you."  Now, it's fine if she wants to cement relations with NBM  (she's such a huge fan of his  it's sort of funny) and I don't mind when people tell me they love me because I'm funny or efficient or well groomed.

I do, however, wonder about people who tell coworkers they love them...and then tell other coworkers that they told coworkers they love them.

Do you follow me?

Let me construct a sentence:  "Sarah, I told NBM yesterday that I love him."

Yeah, why would you share that?  No twin of mine would share that.

But creepiest of all is that fact that, and I realize I've opened myself up to this, she feels the need to make "suggestions" about my diet.  (This based on her miraculous discovery of the Weight Watchers points recently.  However, when she weighed in after 13 weeks and realized she'd only lost 13 pounds eating nothing but dry toast and soup, she fell off the wagon and has since put on a few pounds.  Those size 14's aren't fitting so well.)

Yesterday she gave me the tip that put me over the edge and made me realize I had to nip the whole "twin" thing in the bud.

"See, you're just like me," she said, "You have a leaky gut because you don't drink enough breast milk."

Ummmmm, what?

Oh yeah...I hope she never misses.

Apparently she read something  (and why is it every nut case reads wild insane medical stuff, but I can't get ten people to buy my books this month?)  that the colostrum in mother's milk coats an infant's intestines with tiny little bugs that then speeds the digestive process and makes them poop.  "My poops used to be like rabbit turds," says she in my workplace.  "Now they are long and huge like a big long rope."

Why is it older women think it's okay to discuss poop in the workplace?  Seriously!

She suggested that we both need more  (more?) breast milk in our diets and THAT will then cure us of being fat.

"We're exactly the same, you and I," says she.

NO, NO, NO!

On another note, because I know you care, I went to an actual MD doctor yesterday.  And wonder of wonders, the man took notes when I spoke and actually touched me  (and not in a creepy way) He didn't talk about magic necklaces or unhappy thyroids.  Instead, he prescribed a couple things to help with my skin issues  (he thinks it's eczema) and I'm to go in for a complete blood work up on Saturday.  I already feel better.  I did get him to chuckle when I explained Dr. Maime's methods.  He also informed me that any diet that completely cut out fruit was not a diet to be followed.

I went home and immediately ate a bowl of blackberries.  And it was good!