Yesterday I had a not-so-fun visit with the dermatologist. The purpose of my visit was the investigation of a particular mole. I have quite a few moles and freckles (not the giant hairy kind, don't go getting imaginative!), but this one on my back seems to have grown, gotten oblong, and darkened up.
My doctor (AKA Mary Cutsohappy), decided that she didn't like it, or another one on my back and shouted, "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" Ala the Queen of Hearts from Alice and Wonderland. I might be exaggerating slightly, but they were removed none the less. Off to the lab they go.
Two moles removed, two sets of stitches. One is right under my bra strap (almost on my spine), the other is on my left shoulder blade. Neither of them feel good when I move. Did you know that you basically cannot move a muscle without it moving the skin on your back? If you didn't, now you do. Because they are on my back and that is a high-tension area, I was instructed no stretching or the gym for two whole weeks until I had my stitches out. TWO WEEKS!? Doesn't she know I'm trying to ditch the Chub Club? Damn moles getting in the way of my Quest for Sexiness.
Today I'm doing okay. Uncomfortable for sure, but I'm toughing it out and I'm glad I got it taken care of now. J was very sweet and washed my hair for me last night since I couldn't take a shower for 24hours. It was a wet mess, but a sweet gesture. Love that man.
My good friend Rachel had a good question this morning. She asked, "Could it be hormonal? I mean, at this point can't we blame everything on your hormones?"
Damn skippy, Rach. Damn. Skippy.