my husband: the premed

Yes, it’s true. My husband has turned into the most despised of all species: the premed. Now, before you go blaming me, let me just say that I did my darndest to convince him otherwise, but to no avail. So in honor of his (de)evolution into a premed, here’s a handy guide to these vile* creatures.

1. They think the world revolves around them. And they’re not even doctors yet. What do you mean I can’t add this class? Don’t you know who I am?! I’m a premed!

2. They just have to interrupt lecture to ask questions that they think make them look smart, but that in fact just make them look like stupid ass-kissers. Helpful hint: I hate to burst your bubble, but the professor hates your pretentious questions as much as your classmates do and you are definitely not impressing him/her.

3. They have all of last year’s and the year before that’s and the year before that’s exams cheat.

4. They pretend to be your friend but they’re really just using you for something or feeding you false information to sabotage you.

5. They will use any means necessary to get into med school, including but not limited to lying (about such things as socioeconomic status, some sob story or other to explain their crappy grades/motivation for medicine, planting misinformation), cheating (see #3), and stealing (your professor’s and your precious time with their inane questions).

6. They think they’re better than you. Uh, yeah, sorry, but you’re a PREmed. Anyone can be a premed. You’re not special because you’re a wannabe-doctor. So don’t act like you are. You’re nothing but a tiny, tiny little ant in the whole grand scheme of things. You think you’re so cool because you get to do blood pressure readings at the free clinic? Really? Well, sorry, but high school students can do what you do. We don’t actually need you. We just like seeing you do our dirty work. And there’s nothing we med students savor more than being able to pick on someone lower than us in the food chain and take some pompous ass premeds down a notch or two. Or three. Can you spell R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D?

That’s all for now.

*Of course, I will allow for exceptions, since I definitely wasn’t your typical vile premed. But non-vile premeds are few and far between, so I won’t pretend that premeds are the greatest thing since sliced bread.

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