I love my dermatologist.
Yeah. You don’t hear that much. But I really do. Doc received his medicine degree in 1966 — 6 years before I made my entrance. He greets me with a “Kim! How’s my girl been?” The familiarity is justified. After all, he’s been taking care of my zits, flakes, and various other creepy cruds for over half my life.
He turns on a lamp, points it at the afflicted area (usually my hideous face), knows immediately what’s wrong, and how we can fix it. This process takes less than 5 seconds.
Tonight was no different. So I’m now on some antibiotic that I can’t pronounce (which is why I keep Thor around) and Retin-A.
So I hop to Genuardi’s to drop off the scripts and find out that, No…my Retin-A isn’t covered under my prescription plan because I’m over 18. Lovely. But I’m sure men across this grand nation can get low-cost boners thanks to Caremark’s coverage of v!agra! Bah.
I purchased the Retin-A anyway. It cost a C note. But at least I won’t be hideous anymore. 🙂
