Once a year I actually get to see my primary care physician. I think it is some kind of law otherwise I doubt I would even know what he looks like.
This year I was all
prepared with a years worth of inquiries and observations about my aging body all written down lest I forget something. Failing memory was at the top of the list.
My doctor is young, cute, and as luck would have it, very professional. My fantasy of a Lifetime movie based on an inappropriate dalliance was quickly squashed.
After the usual flirting (OK, he asked me if I had any problems, complaints, questions) I reminded him of the small pimple/bump between my nose and eye that was preventing me from being a super model. I had pointed this out to him the year before but he said that removing it would cause a scar that might be more unflattering than the bump.
This year I wasn’t having any of that.