changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003
ms_pooka

4:10 on a monday afternoon.

so i finally got off my ass after years and years and years of being afraid of death by mole and went to a dermatologist. i was pretty sure that i had at least three moles plotting my demise. evelyn had given me the name of Dr. B because she is a tiddy baby like me and had suffered no ill mental consequences from having him razor blade a certain piece of her flesh off last year. what more could i need?

my appointment was for 3:30 and brian was meeting me there. then, i realized the diaper bag (aka: my purse) was in his car holding my keys in its little, canvas, pocketlike hands. i somehow pulled out the mental gem that i possess a spare key which i have never used and even managed to find it. the parking situation at the dermatology building tried to throw another monkey wrench in my way by having difficult parking. as i walked the two blocks carrying a 21 pound baby through the texas summer sunshine, i fretted that maybe i wouldn't be particularly fresh for a strip down with a stranger. aargh. aargh. aargh.

with this baby thing i've had going on all year, i tend to have much less time and energy to really work up to a proper freak out these days. so at some point in there, my innards started quaking and kvetching and i thought "i really wish i hadn't had that cup of coffee," to which my innards replied "you didn't just have a cup of coffee... you're freaking out deep down below the radar of your conscious mind. remember that fear of razor blades shearing off anything not even with your overall skin organ?" oh yeah. that.

brian was hanging out in a chair in the 540 when i walked in the door. he left to go get my diaperpurse out of valet parking while the elderly-ish desk lady walked the line between not-unfriendly and unfeeling. then my pursepeebag arrived and the baby waddled around with a disarming smile coming up to me while daddy called for him to come up to him while i verbalized oliver's popular catchphrase "i hate you daddy!" for him while other patients sat in chairs waiting and cooing and remarking the puzzling, popular phrase regarding oliver: "he's such a happy baby!"

then i was alone.

but i was alone with an interesting issue of "D Magazine". it was the issue of what to eat locally along with b&w portraits of ancient asian dallasites next to full color photographs of what they grow in a community garden near victory park and it was also the issue detailing the homemade career of a mr jeffus of oak cliff who lives with a mountain of newspapers which he catalogs and clips and sells to interested parties. i didn't get to finish that part.

before i knew it, i was being whisked away to the examining room and the table and the paper gown with a plastic belt. i chose to go with front opening and then the doctor was there and calling in the lady nurse so she could co-witness my pasty thighs with linear, blue highlights and make sure there was no "funny business". although, one could assert that my pink underpants with large white and pink and magenta and black polka dots relate to funny business.

the doctor began with my feet and i learned the importance of cleaning between your toes before going to the dermatologist for a mole check. he informed me there has been a rise in the incidence of icky moles on the backs of legs with the increased use of tanning beds. that there is a public service announcement to all of you who are silly enough to still be setting up shop in tanning beds, mom.

i pointed here. i pointed there. i showed him the raised white spot which had sprung to life after a day at the lake at the age of 10 which had seemed to disappear with my 10+ years hidden away from the sun until, one day, i reintroduced my hip to the sun and rediscovered it. my general practitioner informed me that had it been problematic, i would have been dead by now. i found comfort in this.

i told him that brian and i had had a disagreement regarding two bumps on my ample olfactory house... he saying they strongly resembled permanently clogged ducts which could be effectively "zapped" from my face (his terminology, not mine) and me saying they were moles. I WON! the doctor swatted down the idea of "zapping" like i was a crazy person with mental deficiencies.

i was hoping he would try to sell me on a baker's dozen of vanity treatments which would eliminate my cellulite and varicose veins and make me look 20 again so that i wouldn't have to be vain enough to ask. but he was business all the way and left me to saunter back out of there on my dimpled saddlebags and backed up capillaries.

not 10 minutes later, i was dressed and out the door with all body bits still entact and a little dizzy from my near misses with the razor blade.

and now, i'm hungry.
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