Skin tag - I'm it

Well, another wild and exciting Wednesday has come and gone. What happened in my little world today - let's see, it was my first day on clomid (the happy pill that is supposed to make me ovulate - and bawl my face off at anything and everything), that miserable mofo Sanjaya is still on American Idol (could I BE any more pissed off!?!?!?), and I went to the doctor's office and had a miserable little skin tag removed from my neck/shoulder area.

Again, who wants to live my fabulous life??

So far so good with the clomid - no side effects to date, knock on wood, and though it's only day one, I'm hoping this good luck continues. As for the Sanjaya debacle, I don't even really want to talk about it. Okay well I do. Just a bit.

Let's simply say I'm so mad right now I could spit nails, to quote mom. Stupid American voting people. Grrr...... To top it all off, Hubs is delighted at this latest turn of events (the little bugger wasn't even in the bottom three) and I feel like if this keeps up, we'll be on the next Jerry Springer - "American Idol is ruining our marriage!!" Cue chair throwing here.

But by and large, the most fun of this regular, mundane Wednesday involved a wee bit of amputation. Goodie!

I have (I guess I should say had, now) a skin tag in that happy part of your body where your neck meets your shoulder. For those of you unaware of the fun that is skin tags, it's quite simply a strange extension of skin that sticks out somewhere on your body. Tiny, not dangerous in any way, completely innocuous, but a pain in the neck (literally) when the chain holding your lovely circle of life diamond pendant Hubs bought you for Christmas tries to strangle the life out of the little sucker. Or when hair wraps around it...and pulls. Ugh.

Wow...for some reason I'm making this all sound a little gross. Not sure how that happened, but alas. Here we all are.

Anyway, I was at the doctor last week for another matter and asked if it could easily be removed because it was catching on things and is quite noticeable now that my hair is shorter. They said sure thing, booked me for this afternoon, and we were good to go.

So I, the good, reliable, decent patient shows up not only on time but early. Don't want to waste a second of my doctor's precious time. How dedicated am I? I mean, really?

Too bad the good doctor doesn't share my sentiments.

I sat in that waiting room for 40 - count them, 40 - minutes. Thank goodness I had some excellent chick lit in my sassy A&F bag to keep me occupied, otherwise I would have been right bored, not to mention super ticked off sitting there for all that time.

So finally, FINALLY, my doc runs out, apologizes, and we're off.

Three and a half minutes later, I'm done. Walking towards the staircase. Whut? 40 minute wait for that? Yeesh.

Those three and a half minutes weren't too pleasant, I must say. Yes, I realize it's a wee little flap o' skin and not a full appendage but still....I was amazed at how much the local anaesthetic hurt going in.

No, I'm not a fan of needles, but I'm not inherently scared of them either. Hell, I prick my finger four times a day to test my blood sugar and shoot insulin into my belly every night - I can handle a needle stick.

But a burning prick jabbed into your neck? Not my idea of a fun way to spend 30 seconds! Ouch! I could feel tears burning my eyeballs and the whole time, all I could think was, 'why didn't they use the topical stuff? Why the needle? Why? WHY!?'

In all of my mental prep, I never thought they'd stick a freakin needle in me. I guess it's because I was thinking of the time we took DeeDee into the hospital to get her toe looked after and they put a topical solution on before they put a needle (two, actually) into her toe.

That's what I wanted, but no. Huge ouchie. I tell ya, I have new found respect for that kid and what she had to deal with during that whole toe thing.

Anyway, apparently I'm a big baby, but it's all done now. The freezing took effect, she snipped off the tag, on went the band aid, and I was finished. Insane.

I stopped off at the washroom on my way back to the office and laughed out loud at my reflection. I had a spot just larger than a pin head, and it was covered by the biggest band aid you've ever seen. Talk about overkill.

So I decided to use this to my comedic advantage. I got back to the office, and every time someone asked me what happened I'd just say 'vampires', and walk away. The looks on those faces were priceless. Kinda made up for the 40 minutes of waiting room boredom.

Ah, the mind. A terrible thing to waste on stupid humour.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?