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Last week I had a standing appointment for a facial because I fear getting old and wrinkly and more than that I fear needles, hence botox is out and moisturizer is in.  I walked in to find Courtney, my friend and esthetician wearing slippers.  Who are you and what have you done with my Manolo wearing fashionable girlfriend?  To which she explained, oh honey, I am a hot mess.  And yeah, that part is clear because you are wearing slippers at 2 p.m. at work and girls like us don’t wear slippers.  So I sat and she spilled.

It started two weeks ago when she was at the doctor who noticed that she had a raised mole on the top of her foot.  Courtney explained it used to be a harmless freckle that had turned into an ever growing freckle and then morphed into a mole and she swore to God if it sprouted a dark hair she was going to lose her mind.  The doctor offered, OFFERED is the key word here, to remove it right then and there.  Courtney, whose husband must have married her for her good looks or her amazing rack rather than her smarts said sure.

Fast forward about 16 hours to the next morning when she awoke to a burning sensation in her foot and looked down to see that while the freckle on steroids had not grown back, she now had a red line traveling up her shin.  Her husband rushed her to the ER where they confirmed blood poisoning.  

At this point in her story I was thinking you big fat liar, this must be like the time you swore that you stuck to Weight Watchers for five weeks and never lost a pound and then I found about fifteen McDonald’s receipts in your purse.  But this wasn’t like that at all because she had a scar that prevented any shoes from touching her foot and a two day hospital stay with pictures to prove it. 

The story got worse because she had been calling “doctor two for one” for days and never got a call back.  Never an oh sorry I totally effed up and you got blood poisoning and had that stint in the hospital followed by at least a month condemned to slippers.  We were both all fired up and I’m like who is your Dermatologist anyway and Courtney says Dermatologist?  No honey this was my OBGYN. 

Just so I’m clear, I asked, your OBGYN, like the doctor who looks at your hoo hah and delivers babies.  She confirmed and I felt the need to shake her violently, but instead reminded her that Gynecologists have a specialized region that in no way includes the foot, in fact doc should not even be looking that far south.  Did she up sell you?  Would you like a mole removal with your pap smear?  And Courtney laughed, out loud she laughed, and then I started laughing because what else can you do when you walk in to find a hot mess wearing slippers at work and you realize she would spread her legs for the Psychiatrist if he offered the right exam.