It’s a good job I wasn’t with The Mom when she told her doctor that being treated for her pre-cancerous skin situation was an inconvenience. I’d not be as patient as the doctor appears to be, in fact, I may have lost all patience with her and threatened to slap some sense into her.
I know that we all want to look nice for when we have to go to a fancy thing, and that we want to look our best generally speaking, but when it comes to medical things, all bets are off as far as I’m concerned.
The Mom and I are quite different in this regard. The Mom in her day was a crowned beauty queen (of the engineers or math nerds, but still, a beauty queen!) and has always loved dressing up and putting on make up and having her hair done, and all the sorts of girlie things that make me grouchy. I take umbrage if someone’s first compliment to me is that I look nice or am pretty because you know what? I didn’t really have much to do with that. It’s a fluke of genetics. My face is this way because of DNA and the fact that I live in the UK and we don’t get much sun. And I don’t think my face will be improved if I put on industrial grade petroleum products and fish scales to make it shiny. I think then it will just be shiny and covered in things I wouldn’t eat. But I am fine with the fact that The Mom likes to do that sort of thing. She wants to look pretty, I would prefer if people were slightly terrified of me (thus keeping unwanted questions at bay).
Anyhow, so I’m trying to understand what’s going on in The Mom’s brain when she’s thinking about rescheduling her weird skin treatment. Because she’s thus far not proven herself to be terribly okay at having medical things happen, which makes me believe she’d want to get anything that was even thinking of maybe one day meeting a cancer cell gone quick sharp.
But it’s as though, as she’s sat there in the doctor’s office, she’s mentally flipping through her chicken calendar, looking for three week blocks so she can hide away like the freaking Elephant Man. And she’s coming up empty- handed.
I have to say, I’d be properly grateful if I had to have a skin cream that made my face look like mince for three weeks. I’d be signed off work and told to not darken the door until it was healed up. Three weeks of being forced to stay at home, indoors! No one bothering you to go out. Think of the work you could accomplish!
Though The Mom does mention one key problem, which is potential banishment from the pool. I would probably be unable to cope with that, so can see how this weird toxic face cream situation might become a problem. But, it’s not yet winter back home and so I feel that The Mom can go on lots of walks.
Also, and this has just occurred to me, but there are some serious benefits to this that The Mom has not considered.
First of all, it’s Hallowe’en coming up. By my calculations, her face is going to look like Sloppy Joe at the perfect time. I’m always sad when she doesn’t go all out like she used to when we were kids and make a great display. She’s always saying it’s because she hasn’t the time — well, she won’t need a minute to sort this out! Slap the witch’s hat on, hold a flashlight under her chin and the neighbourhood kids will be terrified!
This gets even better when you think of her on her walk — which I would suggest be at going to and from school times — so she can really give the kids the Evil Eye. Maybe they’ll think she’s really a witch!! Oh, can you imagine? It’ll be wonderful. People will keep a wide berth. There’ll be no more people just coming up to the front door or the back porch.
And when she goes to her fancy events, why not say she’s just in a Hallowe’en costume? She could take the little UNICEF boxes we used to take and say she’s raising money for the children. People would be charmed.
Isn’t that what all the best designers say to do? Don’t try and hide your (perceived) flaws, act like you planned it. Own that sh*t.
I shall eagerly await pics.