Why Be Normal?

I used to ask myself that question a lot. By allowing myself to become labeled as a band geek in junior high, I was all but assured of a big flashing arrow following me around that read "Nerd" for six years. After that it was a simple enough leap to the school of arts and sciences with the rest of the oddballs and misfits. I even spent a semester-long creative writing workshop with a girl who refused to have class outside because she said, "I work a long time on my pale."
I thought of this as I took off my shirt in my doctor's office, preparing for my fifty thousand mile checkup. The pasty skin was neatly covered by my Jimmy Buffett t-shirt, while my forearms and forehead had a healthy glow. Then the normal part began to resonate for me. I knew the reason to be normal: Being abnormal costs more. Try and relax while having your blood pressure taken, knowing the cost of the medication it would take to keep you "normal."
I found myself flinching at the doctor's opening salvo of questions: Any changes to your general health? Any allergies? When did you last have a blood test? How are those bifocals working for you? Nope. No. No problem. Everything's the same. No changes. All is well. I promise.
Yes, I know: What if everything wasn't okay? Wouldn't you want to know how to early on, for your own peace of mind? I have always felt that just starts the clock ticking, like a very boring episode of "24". "That guy's colon is a time bomb, and the only way we're going to save these people is to run a series of invasive tests that will most likely cost hundreds of thousands of dollars and if whatever disease or parasite that lurks within him doesn't kill him - embarrassment probably will!"
So, for the time being, I'm fine. Thanks for asking. Quite within the normal range.