aikaterine

For as long as I can remember I have had these scars on my shoulders. They're red, hard bumps about the size of the tip of an eraser. I have maybe 10 of them on various places on both my shoulders. I despise them. I am only really self-conscious about two things on my body...the rest I can dig. My tummy, and these scars. My tummy I can control, but these scars I can't.

I went to see a facial plastic surgeon today. It kind of creeped me out to be in a room with a bunch of old women who probably couldn't understand why a 20 year old with a pretty clear complexion was in a facial plastic surgeon's office. It's for my shoulders, old ladies. Lay. The Fuck. Off. heh.

I didn't anticipate anything happening today. I thought it was just a pre-treatment consultation for him to take a look at.

He took one look at them, explained this injection procedure and light therapy to me, told me to massage my shoulders with Mederma after the steroid injections, and then said, "So, are you ready?"

I stared blankly at him. "Ready for what?"

"The injections."

"RIGHT NOW!?"

"Well," he said. "If you're ready."

I have been waiting over 10 years for someone to ask if I was ready. YES! YES I AM READY!

So he did it. It was extremely painful. I am bandaged up right now, but oh my god I have never been happier than this moment I am going to massage the shit out of these things until they break apart. They're not going to know what hit them!

In four weeks I go back for him to check my progression and to start the light therapy. The light therapy supposedly will reduce the redness, which is my major concern.

HOORAY!