He was an old man. A very smart old man. Very smart. Older than me, twice my age, in fact.
His assistant asked me to strip down to my load-bearing navy blue bra and totally-not-matching neon orange granny-panties, but also, cover my skivvies in a paper poncho and paper wrap-around skirt.
He looked at the weird mole on my calf, gave me an analogy that began with, "I'll use bug bites as an example since you have a few bug bites on your leg," then explained my suddenly-bleeding mole as a combo of nbd/aging/genetics. He sent me home with a pamphlet about Common Growths.
Today was a good day.
4.7 out of 5 stars.
-.3 stars because I could tell he's a leg guy. Tone it down a notch.