Tuesday, June 15, 2010


Today I have to go to have a "procedure" done. By the way, that is what rich people call a trip to the plastic surgeon's office. While I was pregnant with Lila, I noticed a mole on my stomach was getting weird shaped. However, everything on my stomach was getting weird shaped, so I didn't think too much of it. But then my mom convinced me to go get checked out at the dermatologist office, just in case. So since I had met my deductible for the century, I decided, heck...what's one more invasive trip to a doctor?

They removed three moles, including the studly looking one on my belly. And two of them came back pre-cancerous. Booooo. We have bad skin in my family. My dad has had multiple pre-cancerous spots removed. But then again he spent the first half of his life surfing in the Pacific Ocean without sunscreen, so perhaps that's not just a bad genes thing for him. But I was not really surprised that the doctor didn't like my dalmatian spots.

My dermatologist sent me to a plastic surgeon so he could consult on removing all of the skin around the two spots to assure they stop those cells from spreading. So last week, my mom headed over to the plastic surgeon's office with me to watch Lila while I went in. We opened the door to the sleek, modern office with shiny leather couches and lots of smooth skin looking receptionists. They took one look at us and gave us a look of affirmation that we were in the right place. Little did they know that nothing would be smoother after the doctor was done with me.

While we were waiting in the reception area, about 10 different people with various levels of cosmetic surgery enhanced bodies came parading in and out. Each time looking slightly concerned at the au natural mom and daughter (and gasp, a baby!) in their shiny doctor's office. When the doctor finally saw me, he asked me to pull up my shirt so he could measure the area on my stomach he needed to remove.

Obviously he had forgotten what real tummies look like, because he quickly realized my recently stretched to expand for a watermelon skin would not be measured until I laid back on the table. With much effort, he did manage to make it through the appointment without even mentioning a tummy tuck. But I could tell he was biting his tongue the whole time.

Beauty lasts five minutes.
Maybe longer if you have a good plastic surgeon.
~Tia Carrere

1 comment:

Melissa said...

Hahaha - that is funny! I mean, the part about the doctor biting his tongue and the shiny, sleek office. In all seriousness, I hope they get all the bad cells, etc! I have had several bad places removed too. Here's to being pale! :)

PS - Did you get my email response to you? Should I re-send?