Why You Should Give Blood But I Should Not
My parents’ house was always decorated with swaths of blood bank superstar paraphernalia. Probably the best of the bunch was an oversized T-shirt with three cartoon frogs seemingly chanting “blood,” “do” and “nor.” One Christmas, M&D accumulated so many blood donor flip-flops, they were all my male friends got as gifts. But I digress. They each donate five gallons a year or whatever to save babies and bigger people. Even my dad, who was deathly afraid of needles.
I have tattoos. I couldn’t use the excuse that needles freak me out because, well, those and I have an amicable history. So when I crossed paths with a blood mobile on my college campus some years back, I felt obligated to join the line to donate.
Feeling too philanthropic too soon, I spotted and invited over two acquaintances to get down with the giving, too. I should also take a moment to mention that the ideal weight of a blood donor falls around 110 or 115 lbs. I averaged about 100 to 105 throughout college.
Once in, I lied about my weight. I mean, I was a tough, 20-year-old bitch. I could deal.