Moles come in different shapes and sizes. Some are best avoided in case one works in some secret government related agencies or other top secret undertakings. Others are strongly desired in case one owns a garden populated by snails. Moles love snails. Others are to be treated with utter disdain, mainly those inhabiting the realm of ones own body.
They are the ones heralding the start of those dreaded few letters that always spell cancer and horror and sometimes death. Cancer is mostly dreaded, and rightly so. So, really, moles are welcomed guests as they can tell of things that are not yet or those to come.
I have them on my nose, my fore head and the back of my neck. One sits on my hand and sprouts little hair. I look literally like a witch. Now mine do not have anything even remotely cancerous about them, they are just plain ugly. Some years ago my doctor sent me to aesthetician to have them removed at a small cost of more than half of my monthly budget.
Needless to say that was entirely out of the question. So this has been a great area for a fantastic trait of mine to truly shine: procrastination. Yep, so good I am at it, I nearly had my womb removed since I put off going to the doctors for so long. What an amazing procrastinator I am, I wonder if I could ever write this on my CV?
Ah, let me not digress here, so my moles were still gracing my face so that even small children started commenting, something that always counts as a sure fire sign that things are really that bad. Then I found a doctor who said they could be removed on the public health care bill, shrinking the zit removal cost down to zilch.
Do you know how long ago that was? A year ago, and well, it looks as though the winds are changing My womb is now again intact, my teeth will be fine again soon and so is my entirely witch-free face, or in fact already is. Only now I look worse, as though a mega wart has been applied to my forehead. With my black hair I best go outside waiting for a crow to land on my shoulders and bingo! Halloween costume ready.
Its as though this vehicle called my body is revamped and refurbished and slowly being pushed out of the garage. Maybe a new job will follow, what with all this getting up at dawn? Only thing is, what will I have to show for, since now my real strength, procrastination, no longer is my strong selling point? Gosh, I feel so hollow all of a sudden, what with the dirt removed from my teeth soon, the tumors taken out of my belly and the warts gone, is there anything I have left of me???
Oh, I know, getting up at dawn is something I will always despise. I love owls in that sense, as I am one. And famously they hate owls. See, it all makes sense now. Ah, puh, lucky ol’ me. Plus, there is still that yucky mole on my nose. Guess I will have that removed in ten years or when I am dead maybe. Tada, ready for transition time, beam me up Scotty.