This is what mothers are for

Jen wisely told me while we were sitting at the bar the other day that everyone would notice the burst capillary on my nose if I told everyone about it. So I continued to tell everyone, when asked how I was doing, "Well, I have a burst capillary on my nose," and then point it out.

It's a small-ish red dot. If you think I'm crazy enough to post a picture of it here, you're wrong. I took one. But that was to send to my parents, so they could feel sorry for me.

In real life - when not magnified my the photo lens pointing directly at the imperfection - it's not that noticeable. To other people anyway. I notice it when I look at it in the mirror 10 - 30 times a day though, that's for sure.

I decided to visit the dermatologist, a rather pleasant experience (clean office, great magazines such as the Britney Spears issue of "People," and a friendly staff) except when I was told, "Yeah, nothing to worry about, but those tend not to go away."

That is precisely what I was afraid I'd have to worry about.

They sent me home with some literature about laser surgery, my best option. I'm pretty sure I'll schedule the removal of this new "character-building" flaw (thanks for the advice, friends, but my character was built up plenty with the braces for four years and the plastic pink granny glasses). That will be that, I figured.

When I was checking out my spot this morning, however, the spot that I was told that will not change or go away most likely - and which I was checking to see if maybe it had changed or gone away - I noticed small veins on the side of my nose. You know, the kind people get on their body when they get on in their years. And when I say "years" I never mean the age that I am. I mean, you know, 50 or 98. Just small. Just a few. But they were there. I thought maybe I should heed Jen's warning and just forget about them. Just not mention them. But then I thought it might be better to write about them on my blog and ensure the next time I see anyone who reads this they'll be looking at me, judging.

I immediately retreated to the computer to share the unbelievable news with my mother as well as explain that I wouldn't be leaving the house, and that I was extremely depressed. "Well, at least I've scored a husband," I thought, trying, at least, to think of something positive. My mother wrote back quickly. I thought maybe she'd share in my misery but, as always, she was pragmatic and I quickly realized she was right. Because what are you going to do? Plus, there are always clean dermatologist offices with good magazines and laser options and everyone has their weaknesses but luckily, their strengths, too.

From: Kathleen Rotondaro To: Cara Rotondaro Date: Mar 3, 2006 10:28 AM Subject: RE: going downhill

Probably inherited but on the other hand you have inherited a tendency not to get wrinkles.