White lumps and things

Aging is a funny thing, not as in Chris Rock doing his stand up about rap music funny, but as in kill me now funny.

Since we were young girls there have always been complaints about our bodies, our hair, our skin. And even though the frizzy haired, never used a hair product in her life, uni-brow intellectual on the subway clearly does not fall into this category, most of us do. Now imagine if you will the small nuances you brooded over in your twenties and imagine your horror when you are in your forties and a black hair appears on your upper lip. I lie, it was three. Black. And facial hair my sista's is not the new black.

I refrain from calling this a moustache, gus rojo, tash, or girly stash. Maybe from now on I can be known as mustache girl. Either way it was not the downy blond hair I am usually blessed with even though I am part Italian. This was black. It begged to be noticed, sticking straight out like an ant leg, and it was ugly.

Of course I had to take out the mirror we all avoid after the age of thirty-five, the magnum of mirrors, one's reflection magnetized three times. Now I could see the culprits up close and personal, but no it could not be, yet another black hair at the base of my nose!! I immediately plucked the evil hairs, rationalizing that they must be some genetic throw back from my ancestors in Sicily. 

Something happens with a forty nine year old woman gets trapped in front of a super duper magnum three times your own size mirror. You start to notice other things. Like this white hard lump on the side of my nose. I always wear cover up on those nasty side parts and had not ever looked at it close up thinking it was merely a discoloration. It was white, hard and felt like rock candy. I picked at it for a while and realized I needed the big guns.

As luck would have it I had a coupon at this laser clinic so I went to ask about this albino cyst and she said she could remove it. (I swear she looked disgusted) Under her mirror I went, and let me tell you she could see straight through into my brain with this mirror and she poked and suctioned and cut and mopped the blood off my nose and muttered and finally asked me "damn, how long have you had this?" I shamefully said I was not sure, but likely years. 

"Why, has it fossilized?" I asked, thinking I was being funny. Apparently it had.

Next, the black hairs.