Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Derring-do at the Dermatologist

Such Excitement! I went to the dermatologist today because I hadn't been in... 4 years? And I am white. Really really white. I tried out some Makeup Forever HD Foundation at Sephora the other day and my color is 110. As in the 2nd lightest shade they carry. (Also, as in $40 for FOUNDATION? Are you kidding me? What's in that stuff? Unicorn horns?) My legs go blue-ish when I'm cold and self tanner turns orangey/yellow on me no matter what brand. Since I am so staggeringly white (I could say something a little more flattering, like fair. I am fair.) I get odd little freckles and moles and things that need to get checked for cancer by a professional skin-checker. I was pretty worked up over some stuff last night as I was making my mental checklist of things to point out. Like the little freckle that has magically appeared in the center of my palm, not even as big as the head of a very tiny metal pin. "Eh, keep an eye on it. If it gets to be the size of a pencil eraser, let me know." Oooookay if that happens I will ABSOLUTELY let you know. Who has eraser-sized freckles on their palms and doesn't notice? How about this one on my foot? Same thing. And these 3 moles that you took off years ago that have come back? Not a problem? Awesome.
Getting moles checked is not a fun experience. I mean, it's completely painless physically but really your doctor is going to see pretty much every inch of your skin at some point. Every dermatologist starts off discretely- hands, arms, face, neck, under your hair, your back, and then gets to more sensitive areas. The best analogy I can come up with is that it's probably what it's like to sleep with George Clooney, with none of the sexiness. I imagine he'd be like "Hey, wouldn't you be more comfortable if you took your jacket off?" And 10 minutes later your bra and undies are off and you have no idea how it happened because you really don't know when it happened- he's just that good. What I'm trying to say is that it's about comfort levels. You go from sitting with your ankles crossed in a paper gown to pretty much stark naked in 5 minutes but by the time you're done you don't care because this is just a day in the life of your doctor. (Or George Clooney. This might be the worst analogy I've ever come up with, but it made sense when I started I SWEAR.)
So anyway, all of those little skin things I was worried about were NOTHING to be alarmed at, but she did slice off some sort of multi-colored suspicious looking bugger in the middle of my back. She is a great doctor- she told me what she was doing as she did it but babbled on and on about her life and everything trying to make me as distracted as possible and not think about the razor blade in my back. Which totally worked because yeah it stung a bit but wasn't unbearable. She also doesn't do things like scrutinize my face with a worried (yet unwrinkled) brow and suggest that perhaps it's time to consider derma-fillers or accutane or fancy medical grade sunscreen. She just takes care of what I'm there for and sends me on my way. This is why we go to professionals! They calm my fears about what I can see and take care of what I can't. If I don't notice any changes to my fair self, I don't have to go back for 2 years. Lovely.

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