One-eyed Willy

My balls hurt. My eyeballz, that is. I sat happily in the chair at my follow up visit, thinking that all was well and good in eyeball land, that is, until the doctor pulled back and looked at me in disbelief, nay, horror. Apparently those eyelashes he so tenderly pulled out had completely grown back in less than a week. He was dumbfounded, which is not how you ever want a doctor to look at you.

My kryptonite eyelashes perplexed him so, that he had to CALL SOMEONE ELSE to say, 'what the f*ck?" Great. Thank god there is a solution. Not just one, but three:

1. Burn them.
2. Freeze them.
3. Stick lasers in them.

While my mind wandered at the thought of shooting lasers out of my eyes, only shortly later did I realize he meant sticking a laser DIRECTLY INTO THE EYELASH ROOT. Barf-tastic. And there went my dreams of being a Jenn BORG.

This problem is going to plague me for the rest of my life. In more good news, it isn't covered by my insurance, as were none of the visits to see him. He seemed genuinely concerned, and said that he has been thinking about me all week, since he had no answer to my problem. SIGH. He was nice and gave me some options and said, "Good luck." We'll see what happens. Until then I can't stop humming "The Candy Man." Huh.

Cause he has one eyeball, see? Oh, nevermind.