Thursday, September 6, 2012

Dermatologist, Shermatologist.

I went to the dermatologist this morning.  I saw one when I was in college but hadn't been in years.  I have an itchy scalp and was going to have it looked at.  No big deal, right?  Easy.  Walk in, they look at your head, provide you with a prescription or shampoo and you're on your way. 

I get there early (just like Mom taught me) and everything is going according to plan.  They put me in the room, ask about medical history and just when I think, "I've got this!", the nurse says the most dreaded sentence in all of medicine.  "Put this gown on with the opening in the back and the Dr. will be right in".  WOAH!  Wait a minute.  A gown?  So I step over to the table and check out the "gown" that was left for me.  First, it is made out of paper.  Second, it is clearly designed for flat chested midget women.  Third, it is stuck to itself (this will be important in the next phase of our story).  So here I stand (a bigger girl) with a tiny, paper, bolero style gown/jacket thing but I don't want to make a scene so I slip my shirt off and put this bad boy on.  I sit on the table just like I was instructed and where the "gown" is stuck together rips apart.  AWESOME.  So now I am wearing thin paper sleeves with my entire front and back sides hanging out.  On the plus side the space between my shoulders and elbows were very comfortable.

The 60+ year old male Dr. walks in and my awkward attempt at humor is to say, "You're lucky.  I usually at least make a guy buy me dinner before I let him see me without a shirt on".  What does he do?  Nothing.

After a short consultation I was on my way with a prescription for shampoo in hand.  As I walk past the nurse on the way out I say, "Hey!  Thanks for the great dress!".  Again... no response.  And for the record, I think the gown was just for his entertainment.

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