I go to the worst dermatologist in the history of skin. There are twice as many people in the waiting room as there are chairs, she answers no questions and after your 20 second consult with her, tries to “prescribe” i.e., hawk you, things like $40 bar soap (because I obviously need more products.) Today, I was so annoyed at a) waiting and b) having to give her any sort of payment for this excruciating experience that I was completely red with anger by the time she saw me, leading her to try to treat me for rosacea in addition for the simple prescription I came for. To top it off, she stuck me in the arm with a hypodermic needle without any explanation of what it was and what it was for. At least I wasn’t the other woman in the waiting room who got six unexplained stabs in the noggin. Ouch.
I headed to the gym afterward to work off my irritation. I decided to try out this new yoga class taught by a woman I later learned used to be an acrobat in Cirque du Soliel. As if that wasn’t cool enough, she said she had me pegged at around 22. Sweet. I am so becoming a regular in this class.