I'm beginning to think that I am God's very own comedy channel. Case in point: my visit to a new dermatologist last week.
I should clarify. My trip to one of the select doctors who specialize in treating "stars." This doctor has a skincare line and frequently finds his name in the pages of "Allure". There are a lot of these doctors to the stars, and they all seem to have offices on one of two streets in Beverly Hills. I once saw Goldie Hawn entering one of these buildings as I was leaving.
Anyway, back to the office visit. The staff seemed bored. That is until the visiting Neutrogena rep handed out full-sized bottles of face wash to each of the ladies. (Maybe Neutrogena isn't kidding when they say doctors recommend it?) After answering "no" to a bunch of questions about skin diseases, I was called into a little office at the end of the hall. An assistant who had recently scored two bottles of face soap asked me a few questions about smoking, drinking, cancer, and the purpose of my visit. I was there to see about a mole on my hip and some small moles under my eyes. Right. She said could see the moles under my eyes. This was a little confusing to me as the moles are not pigmented, and she was standing pretty far away from my face. "Wow. These people are really good," I thought.
45 minutes later, the doctor-to-the-stars came in. He, too, asked some general questions before saying: "Well, here's what we can do. We can take one off your face today. You can see if you like the results. And then we can go from there."
So I said sure. He numbed the area by injecting me with a needle...on my face. Then with a swift movement, one mole was gone. I was handed a mirror and asked to examine the results. My only thought was that it looked like the injection site was bleeding more than the site of the incision. This is why there are doctors to the stars! They are fantastic!
"We" finished off the visit by removing the hip mole (ouch) and going over the instructions printed a small slip of paper entitled "WOUND CARE". Then I made my way to the front desk where the ladies were still talking Neutrogena, and I made an appointment to return in 1 month.
Because I had been at the office forever and have recently embarked on the drink-as-much-water-as-you-can-possibly-stand challenge, I asked for the key to the loo. There in the dimly lit, marble-tiled restroom, I re-examined my face.
You can imagine my surprise when I looked at the mirror and realized HE CUT OFF THE WRONG MOLE!
All my life I have had four distinctive moles on my face, and now one of them was...missing. It was a moment so ridiculous that I laughed out loud, which was a bit awkward because half of my face was still numb. I felt like one of those stories where someone checks into a hospital with an injury in their right arm and wakes up the next day missing their left arm.
I called my mom after the visit to share the absurdity that was my Thursday morning. She gasped, then laughed, and we both decided that if this celeb doctor didn't notice those tiny moles, they certainly aren't a big deal. It was inevitable that the missing mole would one day have to be removed since it is there in plain view of the sun 24/7.
If I'm being completely candid, and why not at this point, the purpose for visiting the dermatologist that day was primarily motivated by my vanity. The small flesh-colored moles under my eyes
are barely noticeable. But to me they are huge billboards that shout, "I'm turning into the crypt keeper!" If this doctor, with his huge magnifying glasses, didn't object to my tiny moles, why should I?
As for the missing mole, I'm surprised people still recognize me without it.
