Tags

Consider that your warning.

I have a bunch of friends right now who are pregnant. This has had me reminiscing about the oh, so NOT delightful times that I had during those years of my life. This particular thing I want to talk about did not happen during my pregnancies with Ann and Jackie. But….when I got pregnant with Melissa I noticed this weird growth on my belly. And when I say belly what I really mean is right under my boobs. Right where my bra band sits. They were oh, so irritating. I showed them to my doctor once and he calmly said, “Oh yes, this is quite common with pregnancy. It’s nothing to worry about.” Well, thank god for that because I was sure I had developed some sort of weird cancer and was going to die.

What is this curious thing, you might ask? Skin tags. When I think of skin tags I think of this:

My landlord when my first husband and I were newly weds was covered with them. All over his back and stomach area. And he always did the yard maintenance with no shirt! Seriously, dude! Cover it up!! Skin tags were associated with creepy old men. Not me!! Yet, there they were. Three little tags right on my bra line. OK, to be honest, back then they were right UNDER my bra line. But back then everything was perky!

Those tags have been there for decades.  They really didn’t bother me much because I can’t really see them. Mark used to tease me about my cute little tags. Called them my extra nipples, flippity, flippity, flip!

Well, over the past year and half since I’ve been on my hormone and my boobs have become increasingly ginormous they have really started bugging me because my overloaded bra rubs against them. So I went the drastic route. Last night I cut the fuckers off! 

At work we’ve had all sorts of discussions about skin tags and how you get rid of them. Everyone had differing opinions. One of the guys tied a thread around the base of his and waited until the thing suffocated and fell off. A couple of the girls have had a dermatologist remove them. Another of the guys would just cut his off. Who knew that skin tags were such a common thing? I could not see myself having the patience to tie a thread around them and wait for them to fall off. Oh, no! Not my style. Plus, the thread would tickle my belly and I would constantly feel like something was crawling on me. I also could not see myself paying a dermatologist to cut them off. I have no patience to go the “wart remover” route (something suggested by good ol’ Dr. Google). So, cutting it off was the route I knew that I would take. Since Mark will be out of town most of the week I figured that now would be as good as any to get rid of them so they’ll be all healed up by the time he’s ready for some action.

So, last night I whacked them off. Got a pair of the sharpest scissors I could find and soaked them in alcohol. Rubbing, not Captain. (In case you were wondering.) I got sterile pads, bandaids, cotton balls, anything I thought I might need because I had no idea how much the suckers would bleed. Then I swabbed the area with alcohol, took a deep breath, and snip, snip, snipped all three of the little bad boys off. It hardly bled at all. Then I soaked a cotton ball in the alcohol and swabbed the area again to make good and sure that it was clean before I put the dressing on it. That stung a little bit. Then I took a sterile pad and folded it in half and stuck an oversized bandaid over it. Done.

This morning I took the bandaid off, washed the area with antibacterial soap and reapplied the dressing (not the same dressing, but a new, fresh, sterile dressing…gross…reusing it). I don’t think I’d have needed the dressing if I were staying home from work, but going to work means wearing a bra. Wearing a bra means putting on a dressing so it didn’t rub against the miniature wounds and irritate them. After I got home from work I shed the bra and the bandaid and everything is airing out! Ah, freedom!! I can’t believe that I waited so long to get rid of the danged things!

Now, if I can just get rid of some of the other issues that are directly related to four pregnancies I’ll be golden!

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