Self Improvement = Pain!

I am not a terribly vain person. I hate spending time in front of the mirror, staring at myself. I don't do selfies. The major thing I dislike about aging is the wrinkles around my lips. It's irritating, because I never smoked and didn't use drinking straws, but got them anyway. But, in the past few years, I've noticed that the "old lady age spots" that I have on my back keep growing and multiplying. To be honest, I don't see them (duh), so they've been out of sight out of mind. Until last year, when I put my bathing suit on. How many ways can you say gross? Then, as I started to work out more, the ones along my bra line started to itch and bleed.

With our trip to Kauai on the horizon, I decided I should have them removed. I know they might come back, they're hereditary (thanks Mom!). But at least I could get rid of the ones I have now, and my back won't scare small children.

I made an appointment at the cosmetic dermatologist and went in yesterday. She counted 30 spots (ummm) and we agreed to zap them all. She used liquid nitrogen, which went on freezy cold (shocking), and after ten minutes of pain, she was done. I bought some Retin-A, paid my bill, and got out of there.

By the time I'd made it to my car, the second level of pain had started--the sort of pain that takes your breath away and makes you question your commitment to life. I HAD TO DRIVE HOME, which wasn't the smartest choice in the world, but John was gone. Forty-five minutes of sitting in a strange position, breathing like I'd been shot, and hoping I didn't cause any accidents.

As the day went on, the pain dissipated, and I could lean against the couch. I actually slept. Time will tell if my one stab at vanity was worth it. But this experience told me that my decision to avoid other cosmetic procedures was a smart one.

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