My last day of this:

My two weeks of Band-Aid yoga come to an end this afternoon. And not a moment too soon.

Two weeks ago today I underwent my triple biopsy to remove two back moles and one thigh mole as a precautionary check against melanoma. I immediately put out a call for a temporary boyfriend (with an option for indefinite contract renewals) to assist in my morning Band-Aid applications (which under my own power have enjoyed as much accuracy as a Tom DeLay voting district) to protect the stitches. And while there may be a promising boyfriend candidate on the DISTANT horizon (which is all you'll hear on that topic until we have something a helluva lot more definite than two very nice dates and a handful of flirty text messages and phone calls under our belts), he was never around in the mornings, so he never got a chance to demonstrate his Band-Aid-sticking prowess. Which is disappointing on many fronts.

Anyway, the stitches come out today at 4:15. And so does the diagnosis, which I'm expecting to be nothing since I was told if there's bad news they give it to you within the first week after the biopsy.

(And while I was strictly forbidden from exercising while the stitches healed, I accidentally went to a few very strenuous swing dance rehearsals last week. And I've accidentally worked out with it's-almost-swimsuit-season intensity every day since Monday. And I accidentally went running on Sunday, but it was cold so I didn't get very far. And my wounds bled only a couple times. But don't tell.)

So, 14 days, 50+ Band-Aids, 50+ dabs of polysporin, one shaved thigh, a couple choice swear words, and 9 tries to get a self-timer picture that showed both back wounds without showing my stray back hairs and back pimples too clearly later, I'm ready for this little adventure to be over.

I'm ready to live life again in my own skin. Now with 1% fewer moles!