I just visited the Dermatologist and did a postpartum overhaul yesterday. When I'm pregnant moles pop out like done toast. It isn't pretty.
So I sliced and diced and got prescription creams to get rid of frown (why did you pour the juice yourself baby) lines that I couldn't afford if I wasn't buying with a prescription co-pay.
Of course I had a HOT YOUNG male doctor who was the one to look at my crackly heels and talk about giving me a cream with urea (that's pee) in it. But he understood vanity and did everything he could do to get stuff done within insurance guidelines.
"Wow, I bet that skin tag is really BOTHERING you. I think that would really RUB and IRRITATE you." wink wink. Till I figured out that skin lesions didn't turn him on. He was just trying to guide me as to what I needed to say to get this taken care of courtesy of Blue Cross Blue Shield.
Maybe he just felt sorry for me. The motivation for getting in to see him was that my hair started to fall out! Now reviewing the fact that I am a self diagnosed OCD no one else can see this loss (except for my dad, love you dad!). But it's there, I swear it! As I'm running my fingers through my hair to rinse out the conditioner I'm pulling out clumps. My ponytail has gone from a nice thick tail to a scrawny mid-life-crisis-man-tail.
Turns out its just stress that's making my hair fall out. Mary, mother of Jesus -stress? He asked me, "Is there anything in your life that's stressing you out right now?" I looked around the office at my children. The sitter had been unable to come and so I dragged them along at the last minute without a diaper bag in tow. My daughter had one bottle of prescription mommy vitamins in each hand and was shaking them and dancing. My son had found a copy of Time that showed guns and war and wouldn't give it up for a bribe of a gallon of chocolate milk. The contents of my purse had been strewn about and I quickly turned away before I saw any grungy tampons on the floor.
"Um, are you serious?" I answered. "Do you have kids?" Then he looked sheepish. Sheepish, single and childfree. Next thing I knew I was getting some wrinkle prescriptions, big sample jars of crackly foot cream (with pee) and unsightly pregnancy growths lopped off for free. I'm not proud, next time I think I'll force my friend Carol's youngest to skip her naps and bring her with. Maybe I can get some free Botox out of it.
By the way this post was totally inspired by the hot and funny Jenny over at Mama Drama.