Well...it the midst of being a devoted tanner, I acquire more and more (we'll coin them as beauty marks because I hate the word mole) beauty marks. Beauty marks can be kinda cute, almost sexy in Pumpkinface's eyes, but not when they are like big and black. I've never been blessed with a hairy beauty mark (dread that day), but I received my very first dark one. I don't know if this symbolizes 8 years of tanning resembling an award for perfect attendance or something but whatever the case, I am the wrong person (consciously) to develop such beauty mark. Hell, this is a mole, we'll call it what it is. I have had said mole for quite a few years now, and only recently has it sparked my curiosity as to "hmmm...said mole shouldn't probably be so said black with light brown around it huh?" And then immediately following I freak out.
If you were to ask my mom how many times she has looked at said mole under a flashlight on my breast she'd tell you that she lost count at 5,438 times. Now, I am sure I am not dying, however, nor do I have the desire to brink it. But I run into turmoil when I am approached with the opportunity to either quit tanning or get the damn mole checked so I feel better.
During my week long class at Duquesne back in early June, I studied the mole for lack of funner things to do. I decided that I wanted my dermatologist to take a quick peek at it, remove if necessary (please, no), and off I go to book my next tanning session or put on my suit to lounge poolside. I decided that after much gazing and peering down my shirt while class was going on at my breast I would make an appointment. Well... you gotta love New Castle for the fact that there is one, repeat after me, ONE, dermatologist in the city meaning that the next available appointment with the NURSE PRACTITIONER was today, July 8. So I scheduled it and today I went.
Again, if you know me, not only do I love to tan, but I am deathly afraid of needles or going to a doctor by myself. I was 21 years old getting allergy shots and my mama was still holding my hand. Career Woman + Shots = Embarrassment. But I went reminding myself that mama wouldn't be needed, that she'd simply look at my mole (notice I made that singular), tell me I was fine, lend me her phone to book a tanning appointment, and off I'd go. Well today took a different turn of events, and these turn of events happened without my mama. I got to the doctor's office, waiting 20 minutes to be called in and gave the nurse my information. I stated that I "had a couple moles I'd like the doctor to check out," and she replied with "well, take off all your clothes, you can leave your bra and panties on, and here's a sheet of see-through rough-edged paper to hilariously cover your breasts and vagina with." Aha, what? Yeah, well Career Woman was not well-planned for this doctor's visit. I didn't do the mistake of wearing a thong, but I did sport my lovely, yet see-through Victoria Secret underoo's that are noticeably worse than a thong that only shows your ass. But, I do as they say. I thought I said I had a couple of moles to look at, but apparently she wanted to do a full body scan, that's right my whollleee body, ass cheeks and all. She took a look at the black mole on breast and stated that it was borderline, a-typical - meaning that the mole wasn't bad...yet. "Yet," being the key word. She stated that if she didn't remove the mole and since I was going to continue tanning, she would want me in her office every six months for a check-up. Does this woman know that I do not have my mama to make these decisions for me? I do not have my mama to hold my hand if this woman wants to remove part of breast, and GOD KNOWS, that I do not have that much breast to spare. But I made the decision to be a big girl and attempt to have her take it off without a typical hand-holder.
But the woman just went right for the shot of novacaine when I gave her the okay. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa, lady. Where is the numbing cream? Apparently they only use that on kids, but hey, it's there, I'll use it. Then she stuck the needle in, which isn't all that bad, but then she attempted to slice away. STOP! Hello, I felt the blade. She was all like "is it just a pressure feeling," I said "Um no, it's a knife feeling." But needless to say, I survived the day. Now I am bandaged and praying that the tests come back A-Okay! Moral of the story is, don't leave home without your mama!