Maybe the key to life is being able to bench press 300lb at 75. But do we need more muscle-bound, angry guys around?
I loathe going to the doctor.
Not a controversial opinion, compared with some of the other ones in this section of the Guardian. I’m not exactly arguing for universal basic income or for Manchester City to be relegated to the Saudi Pro League here. No one looks forward to a doctor visit, with its recriminations for bad habits or various intrusive blood tests. People don’t have cocktail parties to celebrate their yearly check-up, and yet, it seems like every day, there’s a new reason to go get prodded by a stranger in a lab coat.
