I recently found a pea-sized bump under my right armpit.  Since I keep informed on matter related to medicine--by that I mean, I regularly watch Nip/Tuck--I was aware that this could potentially be a form of male breast cancer.  I thought, that would be pretty ironic.  I’m not even really a breast man.  It would be far more appropriate to die of long-leg-aphomia, or curved-buttock-atrophy.

So I scheduled a doctor’s appointment, and the doctor assured me, “It’s called [UNINTELLIGIBLE SKIN THING THAT I DON’T REMEMBER] and it’s completely benign.  If you want, you can have it removed--although since that would qualify as elective surgery, your insurance won’t cover it.”

I said, “If it’s benign, why would I do that?”

“Well, for aesthetic reasons.”

“Aesthetic? It’s an armpit.  I wasn’t planning to enter it in any beauty contests.”

“Some people like to have those sort of things removed.”

“Doc, if I’m going in for elective surgery, it better be for something cool like grafting Pegasus wings to my back.  Lasers are for shooting at stormtroopers; I don’t want them anywhere near my armpit.”

Anyway, that pretty much wrapped up the point of my visit. But since I was already there, I went ahead and had the rest of the checkup done--including blood work. The young girl came in and prepared to put the needle into my arm.

She said, “You have great veins.”

I blinked. “Thanks?”

“It’s true. I’ve had patients in here all day but these are the best veins so far.”

I said, “Don’t worry.  I’m not vain about it.”

(Crickets)

Then she said, “Okay, I’m about to put the needle in. You might feel a pinch.”

A second later, I said “That didn’t hurt at all.  You’re a pro.”

“Yeah. I get that a lot.”

No wonder she doesn’t like puns relating to the word “vain.” She’s got more vanity than all the characters in a Thackeray novel put together.  If I was carting around that kind of ego, I’d be touchy about the subject too.