False alarm! I'm not dying.
(Not yet, anyway. That I know of.)
So I'm in the shower this morning (okay, stop right there and get your mind out of the gutter before I go any further, because this is not that kind of story, Dweeze), and I'm washing my back, and I feel a twinge of pain. I go back to the spot where it hurt, and feel a bump, and it's, well, not quite hard, but not soft, either. And I kind of freaked out a little bit.
You see, right in that place, I have a mole. Every time I go to the doctor, she looks at it, determines that it poses no problem, and tells me to watch it in case it changes, in which case it should come off. Problem is, it's on my lower back, and even with a mirror, it takes a fair amount of contortion to see it, so I usually forget to pay much attention to it.
But then today, suddenly, it turned hard and painful, and that is not good. So I'm in the shower, and my mind is going over all the things you do when you think maybe you have some sort of abnormal growth that might even be the dreaded cancer, and what are you going to tell your parents, and who's going to take care of your cat, and who would most appreciate inheriting all your CDs, and you hope people won't be too sad because really, you've had a good life, and all that. Believe me, you can think a lot of that stuff in just a few minutes.
So anyway, I finish my shower, and I get out, and I put on my glasses and look in the mirror, and I go, "Huh." There was the mole, looking pretty much the same as it always has. And right next to it was a huge, red ZIT. (And you know what that means, right? Just go there already. Say it. I'm a dirty girl.)
Good news is, I'm not going to die, unless it's, like, a killer zit or something. Such good news that I had to come here and tell you about it, and in the process reveal something kind of personal, and, well, disgusting. But that's how much I love you, internet, that I would allow you into my world like that.