Merry Christmas Eve and also Happy Chanukah, Readers! In exciting news from Chez Bang Bang – well, “exciting” is relative to maybe only me – you see that picture of two feet on the floor?? Well, that’s me, Reader – Trixie Bang Bang’s feet in something other than her flip flops or her one pair of shoes she’s been wearing and closing with electrical tape because her footsie has been too swollen to wear anything else. UNTIL NOW.
So yeah. I made the comment to my brother yesterday, “Well, it looks like I can wear sneakers so it’s time to get back to the gym,” and after he processed that sentence he almost fell out of the passenger seat of the car at the absurdity of that statement. Unless by “gym” I mean “bed.” Then yep, it’s time to get back to the gym.
But it is exciting that I can finally wear other shoes. I had my final appointment with my surgeon this past Friday. He came in and said, with a sly smile, “Are we graduating you today??” and I was proud as punch to show him my totally closed-up spidey bitey booboo, and now I’m showing you, because you’ve been here with me every step of the way on the journey of my relationship with Brad Pitt. 
Still super-swollen, but less so than before – you can see the indent below my toes from my shoes, as well as just under the stretch yoga pant leg. Yes, they actually are yoga pants, Reader, it said so on the tag, so basically I’m an athlete so shut your mean thoughts up. It’s Christmas. Be nice.
As a reminder, or to catch you up in case you missed all the drama, this was when it all started, before I determined it was a bad Brad Pitt relationship, and was misdiagnosed as gout and mis-prescribed a steroid which made the situation even worse instead of better by the helpful unhelpful doctors quacks at Urgent We Don’t Care.
But back to Friday’s visit, with my lovely and wonderful doctor. While we were hooping it up over my healed-wound-but-still-super-swollen-and-in-need-of-a-pedicure-that-I’ll-never-actually-get because-I-don’t-like-my-feet-fucked-with (which, in twisted irony, I’ve had nothing but strangers fucking with my feet for almost three months now) I happened to ask The Great Doctor if he could take a look at a callus on my left foot that has been around for several years, and should I use that Amope thing on it?
After he wiped the look of horror at my suggestion of the Amope off his face and closed his mouth from his guttural “NOOOOOO!!” that he practically shouted, he got all set up to look at my callus, putting a paper under that foot and got his little scraper out and situated a light and said more calmly, “After all the trouble we’ve just gone through, don’t take any sharp objects to your feet, please, I’ll fix it for you.”
And he took a look and probbed around and suggested, “I think this may actually be a wart and not a callus.”
“A WART?????” Now it was my turn for a guttural cry, which echoed and bounced off the walls in that little room.
“It can’t be A WART!! I’ve had this for several years – years! – and it’s not spreading around anywhere.”
The Great Doctor advised that it could possibly be a wart because of some “distinctive properties” and apparently not all warts spread around. He scraped it down and then said to give it a month and if it’s bothersome to come back towards the end of January and he’ll freeze it off.
READER. Can I get any sexier???
I’ve got the non-superpowers spidey foot, see picture above.
I’m now officially half a century old.
And while I was on my vacation I saw a new horror in my 50x magnification mirror – and I am not making this up and I even hesitated to mention it, because just wow, but I’m mentioning it for the simple reason that I don’t want you to fall for the misconception that I’m all glamour, all the time around here – I saw a BLACK HAIR SPROUTING FROM THE BRIDGE OF MY NOSE. Not from INSIDE my nose, which could possibly – while disturbing enough – be expected, but right there off the top of my nose. My hairdresser has a hard enough time keeping me groomed, and NOW I have to pay attention to the bridge of my nose?? Her job just got harder.
So now we’re adding a potential WART to that, and it’s somewhat surprising that all the guys in the world can keep their dicks in their pants when I’m around.
I’m a true sexpot. If that pot is actually a cauldron, with eye of newt and toe of frog. I’m just hoping that I get some spell-casting abilities to go with the humiliations. It would only be fair, after all.