I had a doctor’s appointment, so I took a whole sick day and called it my mental health day. I slept late, and took my time getting myself ready and out the door to the dermatologist for my annual mole sweep. I have to be careful, because I am very fair and will fry like bacon without at least spf 45 (55 on my face).
As it turns out, the one spot I was worried about was fine. Not so much a mole on my back, which he deemed questionable and promptly shaved right off to be tested! Super. Now I have that to worry about.
Then, he asked me about my feet. I had some heel problems last year. I told him they were fine, and I get pedicures every two weeks, so any dry skin is scrubbed right off. And this kindly old gentleman looked at me and said, “You know, you can continue to use that lotion I prescribed and save the money from pedicures for a Botox treatment to get rid of that line on your forehead.”
You mean that line that appears as my eyebrows shoot up to express the “Are you fucking kidding me?” thoughts racing through my brain?!?!?
As if reading my mind, he quietly said, “But you probably enjoy pedicures.” A hell of a lot more than having botulism injected into my forehead for no reason, that is for sure!
At least tomorrow is one day closer to Friday. Sigh. I need a drink.
2 comments:
Who the hell is your doctor? Bastard.
speaking of mental health, come pay a visit to the avery lane experience, where you've been tagged to complete the eight random facts about me meme on this here site of yours.
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