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.