Yesterday was kind of the perfect day, in that I got to go to the makeup counter and the doctor. You know how I enjoy doctor visits. I find them reassuring. For like a minute. Then I go back to thinking I'm dying.
I had a new doctor because (sit down) my last one quit, and if you have been here more than seven minutes, you're saying, "AGAIN?" Yes.
This time it was the gynecologist who removed my charming fibroids last year, and I liked him. Although remember when I woke up from surgery, and that poor orderly or whoever was wheeling me down the hall, and because I was drugged I kept pretending to be Mr. Potter in his wheelchair?
"ConFOUND it man, hurry up!" and I hit him with my discharge papers. I even said to him, "Youuuu once called me a warped, frustrated old man."
Do you remember that? I am just saying to you, if I was that obnoxious an hour after I woke up, imagine what I said to poor Dr. D.
June. Repulsing doctors since 1965. I wonder if the doctor who delivered me became a gardner or anything?
So yesterday I had Dr. L., and he came highly recommended. The person who recommended him was high. No.
I get in there, and the office is right behind where I had my MRI. Well, THAT was a good time. So this was bound to be just as much of a laugh riot. There was no one in the waiting room, which is what you want to see. I hate walking into a crowded waiting room, although in this case it was just the OB-GYN, so what was I gonna catch? Well. I guess I could have caught syphilis.
My point is, even though the room was nice and so was the staff and so forth, the piped-in music was atrocious. I heard I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore, and I really could NOT fight the feeling that I wanted that song to be over. I heard Have You Never Been Mellow (A: No.) and then I heard ...friend's least-favorite song.
(Yes, I DID pick the video that had Andy Gibb in it on purpose. What are you, new?)
Anyway, naturally I stampeded for my iPhone to bug ...friend at work about this. Oh! And I totally heard I Won't Hold You Back by Toto. WHICH I HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT.
(Yes, I did pick the ludicrous-ist video of this song possible.)
When was that a song? Do you remember? It is one of those songs I have classified in my head as a Saginaw song. As in, I can kind of see myself driving around Saginaw hearing this song, and then never hearing it again till I was in the doctor's waiting room yesterday.
Anyway. Bad music. Is what I am throwing down, if you will just pick it up.
Finally, the nurse called me in, and you have never been asked so many questions in your life. Do you drink? Do you exercise? Do you eat meat? I said, "Are you planning to feed me later? Because, medium-rare."
She even gave me a colon cancer kit to take home, which, SWAG! I am supposed to mail her some poop. I am not making that up. She can't say I never gave her anything. "What'd you get in the mail?" "Oh, bunch of crap."
Eventually she weighed me, and I took off my sweater first, which, why do I do that? Who on God's green earth cares if I weigh 118 or 117 after removing the sweater? Do you like how I tried to get away with weighing 118 right now? The last time I weighed 118 our cell phones were the size of a boot.
And then? Just like on TV, or more specifically Lifetime Television for Women, the nurse said, "The doctor will see you in his office first."
HIS OFFICE!
When do you ever in real life get to go to the doctor's office? You know you're always perched there on the table like a moron. But no, we sat there and talked all about my vadge like it was interesting. It was kind of like a first date. Although I don't usually have a poop test in my bag on a first date.
Then we got down to business. The part where he felt me up and even said, "Uterus feels nice." See above re first date.
He wants to give me a test to see if I'm entering menopause, so when girl time comes (and who knows when THAT will be, see above re menopause) I have to call him and say, "My period's here!"
Now there's a phone call you make every day.
When that was over, I stampeded to Belk to get me the Pink Beach lipstick that Jo was wearing the other night.
Doesn't Jo look so much like a tube of lipstick? It's amazing.
So the saleswoman, who kind of had a Kate-Plus-8 hairdo back when Kate had that short hair, was convincing me I also needed lip liner (A: Yes. Yes of course I do.) (I'm June, and I'm a makeupholic. Hiiii, June.) when I noticed the biggest magnifying glass you have ever seen in your life. It was on a stand, like a mirror, only, you know, it was see-through and magnified you 88383848484 times.
"Are you super farsighted or something?" I asked Kate Plus 8 million of my dollars, as she triumphantly got a lip liner.
"Oh, that's so I can look at your skin," she said, as if to the naked eye I was just a skeleton. "I can see your pores and lines and imperfections."
I'd like to point out for the record that you can see none of these normally.
And that, friends, is how I also ended up purchasing pore-reducing serum, because I am totally employed right now. And if I do not see PORCELAIN CHINA-DOLL SKIN in like three days, Ima be pissed.
You know you can't hold me back now.
