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Please join me in my sexy, crazy, rational, irrational, and colorful paranormal life! To follow me, click on the follow button to the right and proceed as directed. I'm also on Twitter. You can find me @BeingBrice. For any questions for me or to contact any of the guest bloggers please email me at beingbrice@gmail.com

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Death of My Special Place

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I spent a lot of time in and out of doctor's offices as a teenager due to some horrific events I went through with the supernatural. As life has progressed, I have begun to look at hospitals and doctor's offices as my special place. Where else can you go in the world looking like shit, and people will still talk to you and care? Think about it. More times then most, one goes to the doctor smelling like vomit or urine or both. One's hair would be styled after the local "hood rat," and one's make up would be non existent. The hospital can be like a virtual sanctuary for the ugly. So, as a 26 year old grown woman, it is one place I can go without fear of judgment. Even the local grocery store sees me at my best, but not the doctors office...

Well... not until yesterday... Not until Dr. Joshua (last name has been left out to protect the innocent)

While still in Los Angeles, I decided to take a break from another day of packing and go to the doctor with my friend Karen. We were going to do laundry last night together anyway, so I thought why not spice up my life with one last trip to Ceder Sinai? Karen needed to have some of her prescriptions refilled, and in order to do so, she needed a mini physical. As all women can tell you , there is a certain amount of stress when it comes to standing on scales in an open appointment room with what seems like the whole world waiting for your weight to be announced. It was my duty as a friend to assist my other female friend with the appointment. We both had grubby clothes on (since it was laundry day), neither one of us had showered, we didn't have a lick of make up on, and to top it off, I had bird poop running down my shirt from playing with Karen's pet bird, Peep, earlier in the day. Even Karen, herself, said to me, "ahh... we don't need to look cute. It's just the doctors." Oh my... were we wrong.

In my head, doctors are old men. Doctors I know (including most of my family members... sorry Dad) have a belly, grey hair, and/or a bald spot. They have hair coming out of their noses, thick glasses, and look like they haven't seen the sun in forty years. Hence the reason I have never cared what I look like when going to the doctor. After all that said, since when did doctors become my age? When did they become good looking? After Karen was weighed and checked in, the nurse escorted the two of us back to an appointment room. As the door opened, there sat the most beautiful man I think I have ever seen. Mind you, I don't like khaki pants and polo shirts on men. I like guys in girl's jeans, tight shirts, long hair, tattoos, and guy liner. But on this man, who was introduced to us as Dr. Joshua, a moo moo would have been fine.

Karen walked in first. As she lay her eyes on the handsome doctor, her body froze, and my nose was planted into the back of her pony tail. Before I had time to yelp in pain, I saw him. I watched as Karen's limp hand rested in his while she introduced herself. Karen then sat down on the table and he looked at me with his hand extended. As I shook his hand, I told him I was her FRIEND Brice. In fact, I proceeded to tell him that three times. As I backed up against the wall, I looked down at my shirt displaying Peep's bird poop, and thought great! This man thinks we're lesbians, and dirty lesbians at that. I wanted to sit down and tell this Dr. Joshua that Karen and I normally dress up. We normally wear make up, and we normally don't smell of animal dung. Not to mention, we are both very straight. Out of all the doctors in the hospital, why did we get him? Why couldn't we have gotten the old doctor. And more importantly, why was I wearing a shirt with bird poop on it? Although I had never thought of dating a doctor (let's face it... I like the challenging artist type), this man was too good to pass up. As the snot that had been knocked loose from my face planting into Karen's pony tail began to drip down my face, I discreetly tried to look at Dr. Joshua's hand for any sign of a wedding band. No wedding band. My cheeks blushed as I noticed I was jealous that my friend Karen had Dr. Joshua examining her. Why couldn't I be the one having my prescriptions filled? After all was said and done, Karen was just fine except her heart and blood pressure were up. Out of concern, Dr. Joshua asked Karen if that was normal. It was not. Then he asked her if she was nervous. Yes. Yes, she was. Then after caressing her stomach checking for swollen "things" (sorry I'm not a doctor... I don't know what they're looking for during that exam), he decided to take her blood pressure again. After having flesh on flesh contact with the handsome doctor, Karen's blood pressure and heart rate had dropped drastically. She was very relaxed.

As we got up to leave, I decided it was time to be brave. I'm not his patient. He could date me. At least he could date me for the little amount of time I have left in LA. I was going to do it. I was going to flirt with Dr. Joshua. But as I walked up to him, and looked at him in his deep blue eyes, all I could muster up was.... "where's the bathroom?"

So from now on, I have no special place. It has died. As a single girl getting ready to take on the big apple I have to be prepared for anything, and I'm okay with that. I have to open up my options. Maybe the artsy guys aren't for me. Maybe they are. I always thought dating a man of science would bore me, but I could be wrong. Only time will tell, but let's just say that from this point on, I will have waxing before every pap smear and a facial before every mammogram. You just never know where Mr. Right will pop up.