Operation Unfettered Freckle: Warning-You might want to skip this one

This post is not for the faint-hearted. Or the judgmental. I am not proud of my actions. But I won't apologize.

You've been warned.

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TEXT TO SYDNEY:  Promise not to tell Daddy?

SYDNEY:  Oh no...what did you do?

SYDNEY:  Yes...I promise.

ME:  It involves two different sizes of fillet knives, a Ginsu, scissors and a lot of blood.

My phone rings immediately.
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Now...let me explain. I have a protrusion on my back that has been bothersome at best. It is about the size of a small stressball and bulges beneath my bra band like a weird back boob. Stray hairs occasionally catch on it and small mice could swing, Tarzan-style, across the plains of my back with ease. And while Brad has never commented on it, he does place mini-orange cones around it during indiscriminate back massage sessions.

"Before you go any further, allow me to interrupt", Sydney said, interrupting. "My mother is, obviously, exaggerating. The mole on her back is barely noticeable. It is NOT the size of a small stressball unless it is a stressball for the rampant mice scurrying about on her back. Nevertheless, normal people (and bear in mind, please, who we are dealing with here) schedule a consultation with a dermatologist. They DON'T break out a whetting stone and begin sharpening every blade in the house for home surgery."

Doctor/schmocktor, I scoffed. I didn't bumble into this abscission, willy-nilly. I devoted several minutes to Google research and decided that drowning my mole in apple cider vinegar didn't seem feasible given my limited flexibility and taping garlic to it would only succeed in keeping away vampires and make Brad hungry for an Italian dish of which I was not ready to commit the time and effort for. Better, I thought, to just slice it off.

Yeah.
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Satisfied that my life wasn't in immediate danger, Sydney hung up and returned to her duties at work, texting occasionally to monitor my process. My bathroom resembled the prom scene from Carrie as I methodically tested the success and subsequent failure of each blade. Turns out flexibility also played a MAJOR factor in this little operation but I was too far in to quit now.

SYDNEY:  Doesn't it hurt?

ME: It would have to possess feelings in order to be hurt.

SYDNEY: Put some antibiotic ointment on it.

ME:  It expired in 2004. Do you think it still works?

SYDNEY:  Maybe you should stop now...

ME:  Let me amend my initial reaction...as I come down from my adrenaline-high, I find that I am, in fact, experiencing a wee bit of physical discomfort.

SYDNEY:  Perhaps a numbing agent would be helpful? Or is that expired too?

SYDNEY:  Get some alcohol!

ME:  To drink? Good idea!

SYDNEY:  No! To rub on your self-inflicted wound!

SYDNEY: Never-mind. Take a swig.

SYDNEY: I think maybe I should call Dad.

ME: NO! It's done. The surgery was a success. Operation Unfettered Freckle has been declared a victory. #freethefreckle #movethemole #banishtheblemish

DISCLAIMER:  Only one mole was injured as a result of this home-surgery.