Plastic surgery and a new wonder drug. Semen!

I have to go to a plastic surgeon next week.  For the fall I took a few weeks back.  My face hasn't healed 100 percent.  There's a bump on my right cheekbone. I haven't a clue what it is, but when a friend felt it she said, "You need to see your doctor right away."  I am a little vain, (it is my face) so I scheduled an appointment immediately.  My doctor took one look, felt it and said, "I am going to refer you to a plastic surgeon."  I was so shocked, I didn't ask one question.  Such as, "What the fuck is wrong with my face?" It's just a consult, but I am a bit of a wreck.  I told my mom I had to go and she told me I better go to a good surgeon. "It's your face.  Be careful."  she said.  I hope Mexico is good enough.  I was thinking that when I go, I should see what else they think I "need" done.  Just to see what they say.  I imagine this, "Oh, you should definitely make another dimple.  You only have one."  "Um, your breasts are the size of tater tots, why not add another cup?" Or, "You're only 26, you shouldn't have a FUPA"  They can be so mean. 

Any chance that anyone has read Cosmopolitan lately?  I bought an issue for my gym time on Saturday.  When I brought it to the cashier, he gave me a look and said, "Cosmohhh."  I think he thought his negative judgment would change my mind and cause me to grab a Newsweek instead.  No chance.  I know Cosmo is total crap,  but I like to read the embarrassing stories and the advice columns.  I just love advice columns.  Dear Prudence is my favorite.  She's definitely not in Cosmo.  The cashier was right to judge.  I should have swapped Cosmo for an OK! magazine.  I came across an article with the headline, "Semen: A Wonder Drug?"  The last thing a girlfriend needs to hear from her boyfriend when she's not in the mood is,  "But, baby it's good for your health."  There were some other articles that I had to skip over.  I didn't need the guy next to me thinking I wanted to learn how to give myself a Brazilian without crying.  Shit, no.

 

I should really stop reading this magazine.  An ex of mine used to read it more than me.  I say "an ex" like I have tons.  He would read it cover to cover and say, "Mere, did you read that article about..."  It pissed me off.  Recently, a friend saw my ex's girlfriend gardening outside his house.  When I learned this, I shrieked.  I was so happy to learn that he found someone who liked gardening.  When we lived together, my after work routine was to nap and then watch One Tree Hill on Soapnet. I hated when he came home early, because he used to make me feel bad about my habit.  "It's such a beautiful day.  Why don't you go outside and garden?"  he'd ask. "Because I hate dirt!" I'd reply.    There are worms in dirt.  There are not worms on Chad Michael Murray's face.

Chad Michael Murray - Click here for another funny movie.

After the workout and learning about semen's health benefits on Saturday, Gram called.  I didn't tell her about the potential need for plastic surgery or that sperm is good for a gal's health.  She would worry too much.  About both things. She told me she moved to a new room.  "I love it Meredith!  I really do!"  She told me she has slept better now that she doesn't have to hear "Anna Maria shuffling around all night long". "When ya comin' home honey bunch?"  I told her in a few weeks.  "That's great!"  It was so nice to hear Gram in better spirits.  I thought she might actually talk for more than a minute.  However, about 50 seconds into our conversation she told me she had to get going.  "Love ya honey bunch!"  I tried calling her tonight, but I assume she's back to her old routine.  It's baseball season.  She'll never call me back. 

"You've never been near a golf course."

April Fools Day is one of my favorite days of the year.  I love practical jokes.  Last year, I announced on Facebook that I was pregnant.  Congratulations came out of the woodwork.  Someone even "chatted" me that I have not spoken to since high school.  "congrats girl, how far along r u?"  That was an awkward explanation.  This year, I called my father at 8:30 in the morning.  "Dad, I have something to tell you."  He said, "What?"  I said, "I am one of Tiger Woods mistresses and it's going to be on the news today."  He replied, "You've never been near a golf course."  We laughed and he was happy I reminded him of the holiday.  I saw my mom's friend and relayed the prank and Bill Lang's response.  She said, "Never been near a golf course?  How about never been near a dick?"  Is it so hard to believe that Tiger Woods would sleep with me?  I attempted to fool other people in my life by telling them I had a date.  Each one replied, "April Fools."  I took that as a sign that maybe I should go on a date.  That, and I broke up with my cashier boyfriend from Trader Joe's.  In my head anyway.  I was there a few weeks ago and I actually heard him speak.  More like screech like Nathan Lane in "The Birdcage".  I don't think he would have been interested. I am still not going on a date.  They are too high maintenance.  Thank goodness for my Netflix account.

I took the Peter Pan home two Friday's ago for the Easter weekend.  I don't enjoy sharing my seat with strangers. It's bad enough that I have to take the bus.  I like my space. I was solo until we stopped in Worcester.  A woman decided to sit next to me.  Even though she could have sat in an empty seat across from the aisle.  My hung over sprawl must have looked welcoming.  She sat down and proceeded to eat what I assumed was a rotting muffin.  A few minutes later, she started humming. Loud enough to hear with my earphones on. It was funny so I offered her a piece of gum.  She declined.

After the relaxing bus ride, I visited Gram later in the day and brought her a caramel Cadbury egg.  She must not have been watching her weight that day since she didn't admonish me for bringing her a treat.  I told her I was tired from the night before and she said, "Were you on a date?"  I said, "If a date with my cousin counts, then yes."  Gram rolled her eyes. I noticed that Gram had a metallic Catholic looking egg on her nightstand.  "What do you think is in there?" she asked.  I opened it to find mini candy crosses.  They tasted like sweet tarts and I kept popping them in my mouth.  Finally, Gram yelled.  "You're gonna eat 'em all!"  She then asked me to turn her TV on. Her eyes lit up at John Wayne's presence. 

I hate westerns.  They are almost as boring as church. Kath came to pick me up and we left Gram with her western lover. The following day, mom and I took Gram to lunch.  She tried ordering a sandwich, but mom and I yelled at her and told her to order a real meal.  Once we reminded her of the food in rehab, she changed her tune. I asked Gram if she was full.  "I can't eat another thing." she said.  I told her that I couldn't either.  "You want to split dessert?"  I asked a moment later.  "Sure." she replied.  We split a cannoli. 

On a side note. We all know I didn't make it through Lent without eating salsa con queso.  Kath survived 40 days and nights of "no dramas".  Kudos. I thought our sacrifices were ridiculous, but then my mom told me how my nephew gave up kitty cats for Lent.  I know he loves his stuffed cat, but I was concerned a 7-year-old chose to give up a baby animal.  The next day my mom repeated the story to someone else.  The little guy gave up Kit Kat's.  Much to my relief.

Here's a video recommended to me.  How can you not love Tina Fey?