I am a mole and I live in a hole.

I’ve been meaning to make an appointment at the GP to have my moles checked for a while.  You know how it is – you should get around to it.  You know it makes sense and prevention IS better than cure, but let’s face it, deep down your shit scared it’s something slightly worse than a freckle, so you leave it for another year (or seven).  It’s made worse by the fact that the ones that I need checking the most reside on my back, so I can’t see them on a daily basis; so they get another stay of execution.

UNTIL, I was asked to be a bridesmaid.  A strange catalyst to get my arse to the GP, but I’m vain and there was one mole on my back that looked like a rice crispy and the dress I chose for the occasion showed my crispy off to full effect.  It was time for Colin (as I affectionately named him) to pay the piper.  He deserved to be named.  Granted, it probably should have been a slightly more hardcore moniker – Colin sounded like he wore jumpers and worked in Accounts. 

I eventually made the appointment and it was agreed that Colin would be given his marching orders (and take a mate with him for good measure and just to make my experience as uncomfortable as possible).  As I mentioned, Colin resembled a Rice Krispy - well it was more like a rice crispy riding a mole. Colin was the 'Valdimir Putin' of moles, shirtless and riding into battle on his trusty mount. 

I didn't want Colin overshadowing my bridesmaids dress. I didn't want small children nibbling him when they got a little peckish. For all his greatness, Colin was kinda gross. 

Whilst I sat in the waiting room, I penned an ode to Colin. 

Colin, my Rice Krispy chum, the time has come to say 

Adios, Sayonara, au revoir, G'Day,

Your services are no longer needed

So pack up and on your way. 

I look forward to a future of backless dresses with no more Colin shame. 

So off I marched to the Doctor and

He was pretty glad I came. 

Not for him a common cold

Or a script for happy pills

He got to remove my Colin 

With lots of needles and drills. 

I am quite sad to see him go 

He always had my back 

But bridesmaid dress, here I come

And all that's is left is Colin's little crack. 

I was given local pain relief and laid on the bed as Colin and his mate were removed from my back.   It was a quick and relatively painless procedure and within 30 minutes I was out the door with stitches where my former Russian leader lived. The itching though!  Even after the stitches were removed, it was as if the evil ruler left me with an ongoing irritating legacy.  And to add insult to irritating injury, Colin’s mate was potentially pre-cancerous!  What a liberty.

Cutting Room Floor

After watching an episode of the Graham Norton show this evening, I can proudly declare that I have something in common with Oscar winner Jennifer Lawrence.  Who knew?  The glamorous American film starlet and I – middle aged Mum of 3 who volunteers as tribute every morning to run the gauntlet with life (and generally hearing a cannon every third hour). 

So, what is the common theme you two share? I hear you ask.  Is it the shared invitations to Hollywood parties?  Is it a mutual friendship with Bradley Cooper?  An ability to be clumsy in public?

Well, yes to one of them, but apparently, we have both been involved in a photo shoot and the results of the shoot being binned immediately, never for publication!  Hers was for the internationally renowned brand Abercrombie and Fitch, whereas mine was for my University.  Jennifer’s brief was for a sporty, carefree shoot; however, she became too competitive and engrossed in the sport.  Her face transformed from ‘playful model frolicking on the sports field’ to ‘aggressive major player who will stop at nothing to win the point’, complete with red, sweaty face and flared nostrils.  Not quite the A&F brief allegedly.  She mentioned that her Agent had years later contacted Abercrombie and asked why the photos were never published as part of their campaign and they simply replied with copies of the photos – no explanation was even required.

Following my successful completion of the OnTrack program last year (a bridging course to enable mature students and those who didn’t perform well in Year 12 to enter University), I responded to an email asking for positive experiences with the program.  I eagerly replied, citing my story of how I ended up enrolled in the course whilst only originally going to get my roots touched up (story for another time!) the Uni replied, inviting me to come along to a photo shoot, TV interview and voice recording for potential radio and press ads!  I was scared, but equally excited.  I never do things like this!  I’m usually the one in the shadows, watching my friends in the limelight, enjoying the attention.

Embracing new opportunities outside of my comfort zone, I headed into the City for the appointment. 

My face was airbrushed!!!  I literally had foundation applied with the aid of an air compressor!  It was awesome!  I answered questions.  Fluffed my lines.  Repeated answers until they sounded somewhat coherent and left with a voucher for my time and the promise that if we ‘decide to use your images, we will be in touch.’  It was a big line up.  The two participants prior to my interview where the Mayor of a major town and an ABC newsreader.  I didn’t hold much hope.  The crew all made lovely comments; that I was articulate and carried myself with more confidence than the newsreader, but I felt I was punching well above my not yet even undergraduate weight.  It’s fine.  I enjoyed my experience.  Even if I never get to have my face professionally airbrushed again, I have achieved airbrushed loveliness.  I explored new experiences.  I have been interviewed on camera.  I have ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ with the Mayor. 

Although, my disappointment was highlighted when I was taking the kids somewhere in the car one day and who should I see plastered all over the back of the bus, but the ABC newsreader!  It appears he also has his own Billboard!

I WANT TO BE ON THE BACK OF A BUS (rather than just looking like one!).  This devastated me more than anything.  I may have missed my only opportunity in life to be featured on a mode of public transport.  

I only hope that they are saving the best til last and will wheel me out when the current Year 12s completely fuck up their ATAR endeavours and plaster me on the back of a bus then.  I can only hope that I’m currently in large scale production in a bus advertising house near you. 

Andy Warhol said that everyone gets 15 minutes of fame.  I want mine on the back of the 587.  I would die happy if I could have a selfie taken with ‘bus me’.  It's a shame 'Jim'll Fix It' is no longer to fix anything, I would have penned a strongly worded letter.

Happy I tell you.