Prickly. The little hair that starts growing in your armpit like a second after you’ve shaved. Maybe I should get waxed next time. Eek. Somebody else in my armpit. No thanks.
I was slopping on some lotion, it was winter, anyway I’d be breaking into a dry rash any day now. Did I rub harder than usual? Am I just imagining things?
I felt a lump. Right side. Only right side. Nothing on the left. Funny. Never noticed this lump before. Not funny really. I check, recheck. My right and left don’t match.
Something’s wrong. Can’t be. I’m not over fifty. That’s when you’re supposed to go for those regular check-ups and shit. I’m not even forty. Dammit. I’m just a day over thirty five goddammit. It’s nothing. Relax. We just have too much information. Just a recipe for hypochondria. It’s nothing. Just some rough skin. Maybe it’s just a hair follicle gone mad. Ok. Ok. It’s nothing.
Remember when Athimber had bought that big fat medical book, I was eleven, I thought I had breast cancer. Mercifully I just had breasts. It was just the tender tissue of a growing child. Nobody had told me, that’s all.
Maybe I should just call Anand. No, leave it. He’ll be busy, anyway it’s silly to call him at work for something so small. If it hadn’t been for this meeting at this odd hour, I’d just have been at work myself. Not at home, time to kill.
Maybe it’s something to do with the hormones. Ya, that’s got to be it. Why can’t we just have a kid like everybody else does. Dammit. All these fucking hormones. If my body isn’t ready how the hell do they want to force it. I wonder if he gets weird side effects. Must ask him. Maybe he thinks I’ll get worried if he tells me. He never tells me anything. No, wait. That was the last doctor. Anand isn’t taking any supplements anymore. Or is he?
Dammit.
Better just go to the bloody meeting, so much better things to do.
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