One sunny afternoon, a woman with perfectly styled brunette hair walked into a doctor’s office, clutching her side and wincing with every step. She approached the reception desk, her face twisted in discomfort, and said, “I need to see the doctor immediately. Something’s terribly wrong!”
The receptionist, noticing her distress, quickly ushered her into an examination room. Moments later, the doctor entered, clipboard in hand, and asked, “What seems to be the problem?”
The woman sighed dramatically and said, “Doctor, it’s the strangest thing. Everywhere I touch my body, it hurts. I mean everywhere. I’ve never felt anything like this before!”
The doctor raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That sounds impossible,” he said. “Pain doesn’t work that way. Let’s see what’s going on. Show me.”
The woman nodded and began her demonstration. She pressed her finger firmly on her elbow and let out a blood-curdling scream. The doctor jumped back, startled. “Okay, that’s… unusual,” he muttered, jotting down a note.
Next, she pressed her knee and screamed again, even louder this time. The doctor’s eyes widened. She then moved to her ankle, pressed down, and let out another ear-piercing shriek. The pattern continued—her shoulder, her hip, her wrist—each time, her screams grew more intense.
The doctor, now thoroughly confused, scratched his head and said, “This doesn’t make any sense. The human body doesn’t work like this. There’s got to be an explanation.” He paused, studying her carefully. “Wait a minute… you’re not really a brunette, are you?”
The woman blinked, caught off guard. “Well, no,” she admitted. “I dyed my hair. I’m naturally blonde.”
The doctor nodded knowingly, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I thought so,” he said. “Your finger is broken.”
The woman stared at him, dumbfounded. “My finger? What does that have to do with anything?”
The doctor chuckled. “Well, you’ve been using your broken finger to press on all those parts of your body. No wonder it hurt so much! The pain wasn’t coming from your elbow, knee, or ankle—it was coming from your finger the whole time.”
The woman looked down at her hand, realization dawning on her face. “Oh,” she said sheepishly. “I guess that makes sense.”
The doctor shook his head, still amused. “Next time, maybe start with the obvious before jumping to conclusions. And maybe lay off the hair dye—blonde jokes aside, you’ve got enough to deal with!”
As the woman left the office, her finger now bandaged and her pride slightly bruised, she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Sometimes, the simplest explanations are the ones we overlook—especially when we’re too busy overthinking everything.
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