Tags-b-gone

As I laid there on the torture clinic chair, the smell of my burning skin wafting through the air, one thought kept going through my mind...I actually volunteered myself for this procedure. And I paid for it, too. I actually paid money to have what felt like a hot needle jab into my skin and burn off cauterize my skin tags.

OWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember Ralph's younger brother in A Christmas Story? I'm him. I can't put my arms down.

But, it's did now. And my armpits have little black spots where my skin buddies used to be. The technician called it "crusting" which, in of itself is never a pretty word, but I suppose it's better than describing it as "the blackened and curled edges of your cauterized skin."

I have some topical cream to apply and plan on spending the night on the couch, reflecting on the nice gift of pain I gave myself for my 10% reward. Never say I am not good to myself. Once the discomfort dies down, the redness dissipates and the blackened bits disappear, I'm sure I will look back on this and laugh. In the meantime, pass me the Tylenol >_<