LA Beautified

It didn’t go all too well with this writing challenge, I must admit, but I do want to continue – this is a tiny update in between to get you up to speed. Those New Year’s resolutions aren’t EXACTLY coming along as planned either. They are in my head, and I have a plan… The implementation is just turning out a bit more lazy than expected. I can’t take lazy though. It’s one thing that really gets my blood boiling – laziness when one (I) should be doing something.

I decided to take care of one item on my checklist: Getting this undefined, let’s call it “thingy”, removed from underneath my eye. The technical term, I believe, is “milia”… or “thingy”. It’s just a little bump that if it were on my arm, I couldn’t care less, but it’s distracting me and I can’t have it in my face.

Lucky little me now has health insurance, so I fought for a referral from my physician to a dermatologist. The former indicated something along the lines of “Oh, this is not a matter for the dermatologist, but I can refer you to a C O S M E T I C dermatologist”. Subtext: “Girl, your insurance isn’t paying jack and honestly, people have more important things to worry about than that thingy”. At least that’s how imagined it… Not sure if he gets a share for the referral.

I’m in the waiting room of the “Urgent Care” facility to wait for my referral C O S M E T I C dermatologist. And, boy, was he. I have to lead up to it though. I don’t want to spoil this for you.

So the nurse yelled into the room (occupied by another lady, her two kids, and myself): “LISA W.”… It was really a 50/50 call and the other woman didn’t react, so I’m pretty sure she meant me. “Uh.. Lena?” I asked, hesitant. “Oh… yeah… sorry about that”, intonation on “sor” and “that”.

I sat in the little room waiting for my …. C O S M E T I C dermatologist. I really don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a Hispanic man in his 40’s or 50’s, about my height, slight accent, but charming. That’s a dermatologist. But not a C O S M E T I C one apparently…

He entered the room.

I think he smiled.

I’m not sure.

He was tall. Very tall. And skinny.

Caucasian, blond, a tad bit of Doogie Howser. No, a LOT of Doogie Howser. But not as handsome as Neil Patrick Harris. Definitely as gay though.

With one other exception. How can I paint you a picture with words?!… He looked like… his face was inflated from the inside out. There’s a YouTube Video of a dog that accidentally ate a bee and is now all puffy. He also looked like a bee stung him… on his entire face. Or like that gak flubber silly puddy from the 90’s… remember? It has a perfectly smooth and shiny surface, just poke two slits in it for eyes, two nostrils and … well, the lips you’d have to do over because those are two additional bee stings.

This man is a work of art… in progress, but still a work of art.

How in the world could I have expected a little Mexican when I go to see a C O S M E T I C dermatologist in Los Angeles? I was disappointed in my own expectations, but this is so much cooler. I love surprises!

On top of that, his last name was that of a famous actor. I kid you not and I wish I made this up – but the name was just the cherry on top of the Botox sundae (I’m not mentioning it because I may have to see him again and would hate to have my face messed up because of a blog entry… you understand, right?!).

I am absolutely not opposed to Botox. I like it when people take care of themselves; if they feel that they would feel better about themselves with a little Botox, then by all means, go right ahead. Just not in your ENTIRE FACE! I’m sure I won’t be opposed to it in a couple of years either (God willing). But this man just took the Botox game to a whole different level.

I’m very good at keeping a straight face and my composure. Even if that actor had walked into the office himself and I had sat there in my little gown (I’m having a couple of moles checked up on as well), I would’ve talked to him about the weather and how many rubber gloves he goes through in a day. About two boxes, by the way.. several pairs per client, he attempted to roll his eyes. I didn’t inquire further.

I really tried not to stare at him. I actually wanted to kind of poke his face – it looked like he had just oiled it… or dunked it in a bucked of grease… Not sure if that’s in the leaflet for when you get Botox, or it’s a C O S M E T I C dermatology thing. I thought of myself as donkey in Shrek, that just goes “bloop” with his lips in the carriage in between Shrek and Fiona… only I’d be poking my dermatologist. And he would just be blankly staring ahead. Coldly mouthing “enough”. I would retract.


So, I couldn’t really run. I had already paid my deductible and $70 for removing “thingy”. While I was at it, I asked Dr. Botox to please check out my moles. He leafed through my hair, and asked me to stand up in my little hospital gown. Have you ever had all the reasons why you wanted to go on a diet/ healthy living streak/ work out spree combine into one moment? This was it… My gay-seeming Botox C O S ME T I C dermatologist eyed me top to bottom, left to write, bra to panties, which I essentially asked him to do…. I almost wanted to apologize and tell him “hey, you know… I’m kinda giving myself this week and then I’m SERIOUSLY gonna work out like… bootcamp” or “I’m already cutting out sweets, I promise” or “It’s really not as bad as it looks; my genes are just screaming for a big bum”. He would just continue to blankly stare. You just all of a sudden want to apologize for everything you’ve eaten and not worked off in your life.

He really only cared about the moles though. And he didn’t faint… So I guess I’m good.

I was concerned about some marks on my back (you never know!); he merely referred to them as “ugly ducklings”. I found that kind of cute. I would never want ugly ducklings removed from parts of me that I can’t see if they’re benign. And they are.

We then get to the actual part of the appointment: removing “thingy”. The nurse instructed me to lie down and said that the Dr. would “cauterize” the “thingy”. Oh, ok… Wait, WHAT? “Oh”, she explained “he’s zapping it off”. Yep, like a bug flying into the light. I was mute. I don’t know if I was numbed or burned right away. He just warned me that it would sting… Like a mosquito bite… He should know, right?! It started to smell like burned hair… or nails… when you had your finger too close to the match or your hair in the candle for some reason. Same scent. Dr. Botox said “this should peel off in about a day or two”… “Or a week”…  I love this loose definition of my healing time-span.

After he and the nurse had left the room, I just sat there in my hospital gown.. content. Confused, but content. Hair still messed up from him leafing through it, my eye is red and burnt and I still smell my scorched skin. But I’m  smiling, shaking my head. This is so LA.


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