What Goes Around…

January 12, 2006

It was about 13 years ago. I was young, single, in college and I had it totally together. I thought so anyway. I was visiting a friend of mine in Minnesota and one of our outings was to the Mall of America in Bloomington, MN.

I distinctly walking the mall that day feeling pretty good about myself—after all, I was significantly cooler than most people there given that I was from Southern California. As if my Southern California coolness just oozed out of me and I should have been awed and adored by the masses.

Then I saw her. She was overweight, with hair from the early 80’s, a thick Midwestern accent, several kids in tow and worst of all, she was wearing a very unbecoming pair of pants and an oversized sweatshirt with a teddy bear appliqued on it along with the words “World’s Greatest Mom.” And in all my humility and grace (liar) I thought to myself, “Oh my gosh, that woman is frumpy! How can she walk out of the house like that? Does she have no respect for herself? If I ever become like her, someone please just shoot me!”

So fast forward to yesterday. The fact is, I live in denial. And it works for me. Most of the time anyway. Not yesterday though. I got catapulted out of my self-induced state of denial faster than you can say “stirrup pants.” And I never saw it comin’.

I was just minding my own business, paying absolutely no attention to what I was doing as I went about my day. First thing on the agenda: Go to see the dermatologist. I’ve got a mole on my back that I think is changing colors. The books also tell me I’m sure to get skin cancer some day so I thought I’d better check it out. (I also have two warts on my hands that WILL NOT GO AWAY.)

Anyway, so I walk into the lobby of the dermatologist’s office. It’s my first time there.

Wow. High class. Everything matches. Classical music. Totally the decorating job of a very well-paid interior designer. I suddenly wonder if I’m dressed appropriately.

So after waiting in the very posh waiting room, the nurse calls my name. The room she sticks me in is more like a studio than a doctor’s office. She asks the basic questions “Why are you here. Have you been here before. Does anyone in your family have a history of skin cancer. Blah. Blah. Blah.” Then she says, “Well, don’t worry, Dr. So-and-So will check all your moles to make sure everything is OK”…as she’s pulling out the gown and telling me to undress.

Shoot. Why didn’t I think about the fact that someone was actually going to see my body. Why, oh why, didn’t I think to shave my legs. Or at the very least, my underarms. (Author’s note: It’s winter here. You’re all covered up all the time anyway, so why shave?)

So I put on the gown and I’m looking at my legs. Scary.

Who picked out the lighting in this place anyway? Don’t they know that it makes me look all gray and sick like? And geez, I haven’t seen my legs in so long I didn’t know they were so dry. “Ashy” only begins to describe it. Someone get me some moisturizer.

So I’m waiting for the doctor and I’m checkin’ out the room. A few things catch my eye. There are two framed magazine articles on the wall. One from Glamour and another from a different fashion magazine that I’ve never heard of because I am no longer hip and trendy. The main doctor in this office was quoted in each. And then there’s all the information booklets on the counter about Botox. Suddenly it dawns on me, Oh, obviously the people who come to this office really care about how they look.

Well, hopefully the doctor I’m seeing will be a nice, plump, older woman—a mother-type who will be totally unsurprised by this tired, hairy, ashy, pregnant, stretch-marked mother of two small children.

Then the doctor walks in. Do I need to say that she was neither plump nor a mother-type? Thin and petite is more like it. And she couldn’t have been a day older than yours truly. In fact, as she we were talking, she said something like, “Well, at our age…” In other words, this chic was my PEER. And now she had to examine this tired, hairy, ashy, pregnant, stretch-marked mother of two small children. Isn’t that nice.

I won’t even go through all the million other feelings of insecurity and inferiority I was suffering as I kept thinking about how for the last ten years as I was becoming married, pregnant, stretch-marked and the mother of two-going-on-three children, she was in medical school, being trained to save lives and now she gets to wear that really sweet lab coat with her name stitched in it along with the letters, M.D.

Well, I survived the visit, vowing I would think things through more thoroughly the next time I have to go back and see her to get my warts frozen off and my moles removed. Next time I will totally shave my underarms. Probably my legs too.

On with my day…

Next stop: a glucose screening (as is customary in your 26th week of pregnancy). A glucose screening consists of drinking this orange soda-like stuff, sitting for an hour and then getting your blood taken.

So, I had finished my soda and was waiting in the waiting room (of the lab this time) for my hour to be up, when in walks this woman. Again, my age. Again, totally trendy.

Again? And why today God? What have I done to deserve this?

Apparently she was pregnant too because she got the same orange soda. (Not that you could tell she was pregnant until you looked at her from the side and only in just the right light.)

We had nearly an hour to sit there in that waiting room together (although we didn’t speak). I spent wasted the whole time comparing. I’ll give you the breakdown:

Clothes
Her: Black pants. Pinstriped shirt with denim jacket followed by a black down puffer vest. And a black pair of those very pointy, trendy boots—the kind that I could never wear because with my big feet, they’d make me look like I was walking on skis.
Me: Jeans I haven’t washed in I-don’t-know-how-long. Seriously. (I know I haven’t washed them since before my family was here visiting and they arrived Christmas Eve. It’s now January 12. That’s going on 3 weeks. I can’t wash them because I wear them every day. Literally. I am not lying about that.) Oversized red, men’s sweater. (Every day I switch between the red sweater and my orange sweater. I’m just glad I’m not wearing my orange sweater on this day because that one has two small holes in the front and paint on the sleeve.) Old running shoes.

Handbag
Her: Black and white plaid, oversized bag. Very cute indeed.
Me: Target special from last year.

Lips
Her: Designer lip balm with a hint of pink.
Me: Chapstick.

Makeup
Her: The works. But looks totally natural. (I’ve never been able to accomplish this.)
Me: Mascara.

Hair
Her: Blonde, short and all spiky in the back. Totally screams “Sassy and hip.”
Me: A messy bun on the top of my head with all my flyaway fringes being all fuzzy around my face. Major roots from the summer when I put Sun In in my hair to make it blonde because I’m too cheap to get it colored professionally…or even to spend the 5 dollars extra to buy one of the do-it-yourself hair color treatments at Target.

Reading material
Her: Vanity Fair.
Me: Woman’s Day.

Oh geez.

But all is not lost. Who really cares if I actually became that frumpy mom I saw at the Mall of America? Knowing what I know now, “The World’s Greatest Mom” doesn’t sound like such a bad thing to be after all. Minus the teddy bear sweatshirt of course.

Category: Life

Comments

7 Responses to “What Goes Around…”

  1. caroline
    January 13th, 2006 @ 10:52 am

    LOL!! Too funny! And the men’s sweaters … can so relate. I have a couple of T-shirts (my hubby’s) that I wear ALOT. One has a tiny hole and some paint, but with a jacket on to run into the store who would notice? Ha! Again, I say funny stuff. I can soooo relate.

  2. cmhl
    January 13th, 2006 @ 12:43 pm

    hahaha!!!

    hey, and I think that mall is in minnesota, not Illinois?

    anyway, I totally understand– specifically about the “scary looking legs under flourescent lights” part. eeeek.

    were the moles OK?

  3. Pamela
    January 15th, 2006 @ 2:33 pm

    So how much do you want to bet, the other woman was thinking…”Wow, I wish I had enough self-confidence like this gal to just be myself, to be comfortable in my own skin and not have to put on this face.” I can hear your response already…’Ya right’ but really, think about it. It is the dilemma of the grass is always greener on the other side. I think people tend to see their our own insecurities in other people’s apparent strengths. That girl may have the same insecurities but masks it well.
    The blog was hilarious and I am sure anyone would think so due to the fact that we ALL can relate, even one who wears black pointy shoes.

  4. Mel
    January 20th, 2006 @ 6:11 pm

    That happens to me, too, only even worse because I’m 40. I was very amused, though, to hear you tell the tale. :)

  5. Amy
    January 20th, 2006 @ 8:37 pm

    Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one. It’s nice to know others can relate.
    (cmhl…yes, you’re right. It’s Minnesota, not Illinois. Not sure why I had a brain hiccup with that. It’s changed now. Thanks for the head’s up.)

  6. alona myers
    May 31st, 2006 @ 12:35 am

    You have time for mascarea. As you can see I can bearly spell it. Although in my defense I’m not wearing my new perscription reading glasses that I call my happy 30th birthday present. And in all fairness as an extenion of my full year turning 30 celebration (3-29-76)I did finally order some mary k consealer and foundation (which i haven’t had time to put on yet) but that was only because the stuff I was “useing” was from the early 90’s or before. Fortunately “using” makeup for me means that somebodys getting married or I’m going to some other event that would require me to look cute dispite the relative discomfort associated with that. You know what I mean, the kind of thing that is only redeemed by the fact that it involves someone else watching the kids. I digress, But then again I’m responding to something you said in January and I see you almost weekly. I tell you if I get anymore ontop of things I’m gonna fall off. -ac

  7. withpurpose » Blog Archive » Round 2
    November 2nd, 2008 @ 3:43 pm

    [...] Life It’s mole removal day for me. And I guess we’ll take a shot at the warts too. So, if all goes according to plan, [...]

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