Exposed..in More Ways Than One

Yesterday I found myself exposed, in more ways than one. Let me explain. For several months now, about three to be exact, I've developed, albeit slowly, these weird dry patches on my skin. I honestly thought nothing of it until they began multiplying and, late last week, itching. I can deal with some red, dry spots but not the itching. So, a visit to my family doctor and the suggestion to see a dermatologist later, there I was.

The first point of exposure I'd like to share is somewhat, well, unsettling. I'm not the sort of person to put on airs. Those who know me best know me as a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy. I'm not a fashion plate to say the least. Yet, here I was, directions to the Lakewood Ranch Dermatology Offices in hand, changing my shirt and shoes in the car. "Why?" you ask. I'm not real sure. There's really nothing wrong with our work shirts and such. They're actually quite nice as compared to some. They're even button-down! Woo hoo! But, I don't know. Something within me was just a little obsessed with making a good first impression. I don't understand why but here I was, dry skin thing and all, changing into a decent polo and sandals in the car before heading over to the office. I'm not sure why but I'm just a little concerned about it.

Well, you get what you pay for. My idiotic worries about making a good first impression were shot completely to hell as I entered into the offices. It was quite a pleasant experience in the waiting room but then they called my name. A young fellow by the name of Jamie led me back to my room where we went through the requisite weight and height check and he went over my chart with me, asking me why I was there in spite of the fact that it was written on the chart. Then, he said the words that caused me alarm.

"Here's a drape for you. Go ahead and take your shirt and pants off and she'll be in shortly."

Welcome to the world of discomfort. I'm already saddled with a skin issue. Now this kid wants me to strip down to my skivvies and wait for the doctor. Plus, let's be honest. I'd have no problem with this if I was freakin' Brad Pitt. Sure I'd have the skin thing, but at least I'd be Brad Pitt with a skin thing! It really couldn't get any worse. That's what I thought, anyway.

The doctor entered shortly thereafter, as promised, and I sat, drape pulled up around me like a sheet. We exchanged pleasantries, no doubt easier for her seeing that she was fully clothed and holding a clipboard. Then she asked me to get up on the exam table. I obliged and she proceeded to dictate all of my follicular imperfections to my new friend, Jamie. Having me sit up, she asked me some questions about the issue as well as some regarding family history. Then, she asked the question that really sealed my day.

"Do you have any of these dry spots on your buttocks?", she asked. I swear I detected an evil grin in there somewhere.

"No," I replied, concern filling my face, "Everything is A-Ok back there!"

She seemed to believe me and internally, I prayed for the visit to end quickly as she prodded and probed some more. Finally, she asked me to stand so she could check the spots on my back and legs a bit closer. In hindsight, no pun intended, this was clearly a trick. Because before I knew it she's muttering something like, "I just want to check one more thing...", and is popping the elastic on my boxers in order to check out the aforementioned buttocks! I did not need this extra bit of humiliation. The visit ended soon and I sulked out, avoiding all eye contact.