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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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C'est jeudi

I had an appointment at the optometristís office today which means I got a new pair of contacts. The optometrist had me put them in after heíd plopped some numbing drops into my eyes and it felt so strange sticking a contact on my eyeball and NOT BEING ABLE TO FEEL THE EYEBALL. I had an odd paranoia that he was going to take advantage of my numb eyeballs in some sort of inappropriate way, and I actually looked around the room for my glasses. My purse was stashed safely behind me.

I am not normally distrusting of physicians but optometrists are a special case. You see, they are not really doctors! And this I learned only a few short months ago. I especially donít trust optometrists whose offices are basically an excuse to sell expensive eyewear. Are you a shopkeeper or a health care provider?

Iíve been floating without moorings ever since my childhood optometrist retired. Eventhough I know he wasnít a *real* doctor, I had confidence in him because he wore wingtips and funny plaid pants, every ensemble topped by a pristine white lab coat. He looked like a scientist and was old and had ancient equipment and therefore I trusted him.

I gravitate towards physicians who seem to cultivate that doddering professor vibe; theyíve got to be older (so I know their equipment is already paid for,) theyíve got to either have no music, classical music or Magic 61-type oldies music in the waiting area, they should be a little on the irascible side, and be suspicious ofmedical things advertised on tv or in magazines. A shabby or indifferent decorating scheme in the offices is also good. I find comfort in knowing that my money is not going towards posh furnishings and other accoutrements. Of course, my money could very easily be going into a giant trust fund for the doctorsí snotty children, but as along as I donít see their little Harvard asses prancing about the waiting room, Iím ok. My reconstructive surgeonís offices were a little on the threadbare side, but that did not dissuade me from engaging him to do my breast reduction. I had a friend accompany me to one of my follow-up appointments and she, being a fancy girl, was a little disturbed at the dťcor... until I showed her my adorable, tiny, perky boobs whereupon she changed her tune. Itís hard to turn off your inner aesthete, I know, but when a sad waiting room can result in the two cutest little titties on the West Coast, well then, you just have to reconsider a lot of things, donít you?

All of this said, I should be honest about my dentist. His office is in the medical building at 450 Sutter in San Francisco, and that building is soooooo beautiful. Itís art deco, with elevator attendants, and the dentistís offices have the most magical view of the City! Plus, heís my friend Daveís dad, and he is just the greatest, sweetest, most charming dentist on the planet. His suite of rooms is very nice and soothing, and when youíre in the chair, having your teeth cleaned, you forget about everything because the view is incredible.

In other news, I signed up for Goldmember status so get ready for some pictures one of these days.

6:18 p.m. - 2002-07-11

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