I showed up for my annual skin cancer watch this morning sporting the remnants of the annual hive that develops when I worry about the doctor touching my face a lot.
The receptionist’s name was April. That’s always slightly awkward when you literally come face to face with the reality that your name isn’t actually all yours.
“Thank you, April!”
“You’re welcome, April!”
Being named after a month is a little like being named after a number and that makes me feel like a futuristic George Lucas character.
The masses spend millions upon millions in cosmetic surgery costs to look and feel younger every year, but I have a tip that will only cost you $50 a pop:
Take a trip to the patient waiting quarters at your local skin surgery center. I can guarantee that you’ll be the youngest person in there.
And if you’re not and you see someone closer to your age nervously reading Redbook’s “50 WAYS TO EXCITE YOUR LOVER” you should say hello because that’d be me.
Fifty, really?!
I was only at number five when the nurse called my name and because I was reading something stupid and embarrassing about making circles around his “member” during oral sex I jumped, snapped the magazine closed, and startled those around me that trust me on this one – don’t need to be startled.
She led me to another room to wait and asked if I’d like a magazine to read.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
I stared ahead at the wall and as she left I realized that I had just made a very important choice. That choice was to appear crazy rather than put the woman out whose job it was to provide a lighter version of bedside manner.
“Now this… THIS is a great wall. You guys really did this thing right. I’m going to study it while I wait if that’s okay by you.”
Moments later my doctor entered and I closed my eyes tightly while he stretched, poked, and rubbed my left temple. He took a series of measurements and it’s only grown one millimeter since my last visit. Not a bad sign.
I worked up the courage to ask about removal and even added, “Do you have to slice it off?”
I was horrified to hear the word, “Yes” come out of his mouth.
“If I were you, I’d hold off on removal until it becomes a problem. You see, we’d have to cut a flap just below as well which would leave you with a scar in the shape of a large capital ‘L’.”
“And that would stand for loser?”
SO MANY WORDS BEGIN WITH L – DON’T KNOW WHICH JOKE TO MAKE – ABORT – ABORT – DOES NOT COMPUTE
You’re the only April I (sorta) know, so come and live in Lithuania, April the month is “balandis” here. The word also means “pigeon”.
it stands for lesbian, you silly!
Ollka – Trust me, if I could move to Lithuania and rename myself “Pigeon”, I would.
Beth – What if I want it to stand for “Lita Ford”?
whatever Lola wants, Lola gets
Very funny, Emily, but you won’t be laughing when I make you play upside down hangman on my face.
Or maybe you will because I know I’ll be laughing.
Y_U K_OW YO_ L_VE M_
Have them remove it from the top side and leave a “7” scar. Talk about futuristic characters.
I hope you’re referring to 7 of 9 POST borg drone years because wow… she wasn’t so hot back then. Nice rack, though.
Get the Hell out of there and never go back. Scarring letters and numbers on your face is sign of a gov’t conspiracy to mark humans for future experiments and record keeping.
Can’t. Stop. Laughing.
Hi. I came across your blog this evening. This was a great post. Very humorous and well-written.
Take it easy.
Why thank you!