So, yesterday I noticed this weird mark on my chest and I thought “When did I have soy sauce?” because the lights were low and it looked like splashed soy sauce and I can’t remember eating anything with soy sauce in months. Mysterioso, no?
In better light, I could see that the spots on my chest are not brown like soy sauce, but purplish-red. Bruise-like. Hickey-like. But teeny-tiny, so not hickey-like at all, or not any I’ve ever
had seen. They’re not raised. They do not hurt or itch. They’re just weird, and I’d kinda like to know how they got there.
Do I have photo evidence, you ask? You bet!
This picture shows the spots slightly larger than their actual size, and also a bit lighter. They’re just to the left of where my cleavage would be if I had any, and were surprisingly difficult to photograph because have you ever tried to get a good picture of your own chest without making it pornographic? I cropped the hell out of this thing.
So I started asking around to figure out what could have caused this tiny constellation to show up on my boobular region. Here are the responses I got:
Victor: Heh heh. Let me get a better look. No, really! I’m trying to help. Why’d you hit me? Come back here!
Jack: Can’t talk. Legos.
Katie: [didn’t dare ask; she’d be convinced I’m going to die of whatever it is any day now]
Millie, the kitty: Mrow. [looks away]
Scout, the beagle: Don’t know don’t care but those crackers on the table sure look good and I’m just gonna help myself you don’t mind do you alright thanks I’m outtie.
Casey, the rat terrier: Where have you been? Do you still love me? I haven’t seen you for two minutes and I think maybe you stopped loving me! Please reassure me you love me over and over while I growl at Scout for making eye contact with you.
Eugene, the physical therapist I had today: Um, I don’t know, ma’am, but please put your shirt back on.
Starbucks emo chick: Um, I don’t know, ma’am, but please put your shirt back on.
Target clerk: [pushing a button under her counter] I need an adult! I need an adult!
If, the next time I see my doctor, I’m asked if I’ve had any strange skin conditions along with my extreme back pain, and if I answer yes and the room suddenly fills with many doctors who want to see me, a freak of nature who they’ve suddenly realized has a totally diagnosable and treatable disease, you won’t think I’m such a wacko then, hm? And while you’re pondering that, feel free to diagnose this weird thing on my chest. I don’t know WTF it is.