Today I made an appointment with a new Dermatologist closer to my job in central shit hell Wooodland Hills. After making the appointment, I realized the doctor went to The Univeristy of Dayton just like yours truly so I was pretty excited. I showed up for my appointment today and told her I needed a cortisone injection into the zit I had because I’m leaving for Vegas in two days, I’m about to be 30 and I’m not walking around Sin City with this mass on my face because I’m so vain you probably think this blog is about you. She laughed and left to get the lethal zit stopper needle. When she returned, I told her that I was Dayton Flyer too and she said, “No way! What year did you graduate?” “’03.” Then she said two words I was not expecting to hear, “ME TOO!”
My first thought: “I have never seen you before in my life.”
My second thought: “You’re a Doctor. A frickin’ Doctor. What the hell have I been doing with my life?”
This was pretty depressing. In the past nine years since we apparently graduated on the same stage on the same day, she’s been becoming a doctor…and I’ve been what? Drinking beer?
She then recommended an $80 skin cream that I obviously can’t afford because I’m not a doctor. It’s good for moisturizing as well as fighting against wrinkles as she reminded me with a wincey face that I’m about to be 30. Fuck.