May my life serve as a warning to you ladies. Always wear your best underwear…no matter what.
Yesterday, I had, what I understood to be, a follow up appointment with my dermatologist, to look at how my skin had healed where he had removed a wee little cancerous mole.
We fair skinned people need to be particularly diligent about these new weird colored or shaped moles, and I have been, and had one removed in March.
I got up yesterday morning and decided to take the dog for a walk before my appointment. I slipped on my most comfortable panties for the hour walk…and by most comfortable, I mean, largest, oldest, and ugliest. I also put on a jog bra. I am not a small woman in this department, so my jog bras are neither diminutive nor cute. They are supportive, and industrious. In order to be supportive, they are a white, criss-cross of industrial strength fabric which holds everything sturdily into one giant uniboob shelf situation. I do own pretty bras, but the jog bra is not one of them, not by a long shot.
So, off I went and the dog and I enjoyed a lovely, unseasonably cool, morning walk through wildflower fields. I returned home and did not have much time, so I threw on a nice pair of pants and a pretty blouse…refreshed my curls, dabbed on a hint of blush, some mascara, a little lip gloss and I was off to the doctor’s so he could check the incision.
When I arrived the tech said: “Okay, so you’ll be having a full body scan today, please take your clothes off….well, you can keep on your bra and panties, he’ll work around that.”
Ummm. What? Full body????? No. No. There has to be some mistake. I am pretty sure he just wanted to check the incision site.
Nope. Full body.
Crack the door when you’re ready and we’ll be back.
I cursed my stupidity and my penchant for comfort…and my not taking The Time….and I took a deep breath and stripped down to my oldest, largest, and ugliest walking panties and my industrial white uniboob shelf bra and waited.
My doctor, who I am fairly sure is gay, and would care nothing for what my underwear looked like in any circumstance, except to stand in fashion judgment, waltzed into the exam room followed closely by the handsomest man who ever lived.
“This is Dr. McGorgeous. He’s been a practicing surgeon for 7 years, but now he’s training in dermatology. He’ll be watching the exam.”
Ummm. Gulp. Fabulous. Just what I was hoping for this morning. The opportunity to slowly turn 360 degrees in my absolute ugliest underwear in front of the most handsome man I have ever seen. Yep. Tops on my list of Fun.Things.To.Do. By. 9 am.On.A.Wednesday.
And so I did. I turned slowly in a circle and bore with them while they both took turns sticking their heads under my arm and examining something in my left arm pit, while Dr. McGorgeous was quizzed on the scientific name for a skin tag. They looked down the back of my panties and made sure I did not have any cancerous moles on my buttocks…the poor elastic in my old underwear making this an easier procedure than any new fangled pretty lace elastic would have, I suppose.
They both finished. Took turns shaking my hand and thanked me for coming in.
I put my nice pants and pretty blouse back on and vowed that I will never.ever.ever. leave the house again without wearing my very prettiest underwear. My mother was right, as usual when she said, “Always wear your prettiest underwear, because you just never know.”