I noticed a section of my left arm was slightly discolored after traveling. At first I thought nothing of it but as it got more prominent as the days passed, I figured that contacting my aunt who’s a doctor and explaining what my arm looked like couldn’t hurt. And then it began…
My mom and aunt filled my mind with tales of how it could be a spider bite and that my arm was going to fall off or that the flesh eating bacteria would spread and I would have to cut off my other arm too. My favorite part of that was how they assumed my left arm was as good as gone. It’s like “Bye, fucker, you’ve lived a good life but NOPE, you’re done.”
All I could think on my drive to see a dermatologist was “Oh dear god, please don’t let me turn into Spider-Man.” I don’t think I could ever forgive myself…
As I was filling out paperwork, the dermatologist told me that she had gone to some sort of Scottish fair at the OC Fairgrounds. I was intrigued and made a mental note to attend next year, especially since she mentioned food and beer, plus bagpipes galore which I thought would be hilarious. Then she told me how so many men were in kilts. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “So did you check to see if they have underwear on underneath or do they just go commando?”
Mind you, this was my very first time meeting her. Thankfully, she just laughed and said that she didn’t bother to ask any of them but that she would next time.
Yeaaaah, I wasn’t talking about asking. I was thinking more along the lines of “accidentally” dropping a napkin on the floor and sprawling out on the ground to check out the wrapped (or not) package. I figured I was better off not explaining my true intentions ;)
As for my arm, luckily, it just ended up being some random allergic reaction but at least I had some peace of mind and could fully enjoy my weekend.
As the dermatologist handed me some topical samples that should help, she mentioned that she would check in a few weeks to see if I needed a fading cream to help restore my skin back to its original color. Aaaaaaand before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Am I going to look like Michael Jackson?”
I gotta say though, this lady is cool as fuck. She just laughed and said that he used something different and that I would be fine. Whew. Glad I dodged that bullet :P
But seriously, can you imagine me as a one-armed, Spider-Man, Michael Jackson-looking motherfucker laying on the floor trying to look up men’s kilts?
I’m slightly disturbed.
Until next time, y’all!! :P