Wednesday, February 29, 2012

And the truth comes out...

I'm a worrier.
I've never thought of myself as one, but I am.
The first step to recovery is admitting there is a problem right...

So I worry.
Big whoop, right?

It is a problem.

Most of the time when I really think about the things I am worrying about
I realize how ridiculous and funny it is to be worried about it.
For example:

I've had a couple of moles on one of my thighs for the majority of my life.
I've always been extremely self conscious of them.
I hated that they'd show when I wore a bathing suit, or short shorts.
The thing I worried about the most,
and this is where I laugh,
I'd worry that (the moles being brown)
people would think I had poo on my thigh.
Just a couple of perfectly round brown spots of poo.
Because people walk around like that all the time without noticing or cleaning off such spots...

These moles bothered me so much,
that last year when they started changing shape 
I ran right in to my doctor to have them removed.
Finally a reason to rid myself of this worry.
I mean a shape shifting mole can be dangerous, thus important to get taken off...

The moles came off, one at a time, a few months apart.
In place of brown spots were pink ones that would most certainly turn white, eventually.
The first one was nearly invisible until one day I noticed a new brown spot in the same place.
Did you know moles could do that?
I didn't.
I went back to my doctor.
The new mole was excised, which means it was sliced out, and then my skin was stitched back together.
I've never had a problem healing from such wounds.
I was sure this mole would heal just fine
 and I'd be left with a tiny pink line that would eventually turn white.
But it was not to be.
Instead it turned red with fury,
as though my body was offended that I had the nerve to voluntarily have part of it cut off.
It took forever for that darned spot to heal.

The second one ended up needing to be excised as well.
Sliced and stitched up.
I was supposed to keep those stitches in for two weeks.
I took them off after four days.
They were bugging me, I was worried that they'd end up red swollen and ugly again, 
and the slice was looking just fine...
So I cut them off and was certain that I'd have nothing to show for it.
Just a tiny white line.

Well, it wasn't to be.

The pink line stretched out and turned purple.
It took forever to heal.

Now instead of two teeny tiny little brown circles,
I have two big giant purple splotches.
I've tried all the scar-be-gone ointments,
and a year plus later they are still big giant purple splotches.

I like to tell people they are scars from liposuction,
Or scars from where an arrow pierced all the way through my leg.
Or gun shot wounds.
I figure that those explanations are much cooler than the truth.
That I was worried that people might think I had poo on my leg!

Of course when it comes right down to it,
those moles needed to be removed.
I'd rather have a purple splotch then the likelihood of a mole developing into a melanoma.
Incidentally I don't worry much about that happening.
Nope, I prefer irrational ridiculous things to worry about ;D

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