June's visit to the plastic surgeon

I visited my plastic surgeon earlier today.


It was time for another refill, so I braved the beltway and managed to secure a decent parking space, all by 10:00 a.m.


After check-in, I donned the familiar examination gown.




"Opening in the front, please," the nurse advised.
At least I kept pants on.
In the eternal wisdom of the former Mrs. Bobbie Brown, "Crack is whack!"

I sat at on the edge of the exam table,
alone,
and wishing I'd carried in the Ebony Magazine from the waiting room.

To occupy my time,
I poked the implants,

and when I was bored with that,
I started doing calf raises, dips and modified push-ups off the exam table.
The only reason I stopped was that I became a paranoid that BIG BROTHER had a hidden camera, recording my every move.

I decide to sit down and wait, like a normal patient.

For the first time, I suddenly realized that the room was chilly. As the hospital AC blasted cold air overhead and down my gown, I began to worry.
With nothing more than a flimsy, cotton gown (opening in front), to shield me, I knew it wouldn't be long before I exhibited signs that there was a nip in the air. (pun intended)

Then I relaxed.

Without nipples, there wasn't much chance that Dr. M. would walk into the room, take one look at me and announce,
"Are you cold or are you just happy to see me?"