Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

When I was seventeen I had a friend who had an extra i.v. needle left over from a vet visit. I had her put ice on my eyebrow and she was able to pierce it for me while I laid on her cat-hair covered bed. I wore a silver ring in my eyebrow for about 2 years until I got sick of it getting infected and tired of the look. Then I took it out. I’m almost thirty-six now.

About five years ago I had an employer who turned to me one day and said, “Allison, when are you gonna take care of that shit on your face?” She actually said that. She was referring to the scars on my eyebrow. I quit working for her soon afterwards.

I still don’t really regret doing the piercing. It was part of growing up, part of my angst, part of my youth, and part of me being that age in a specific time and place. But I have to admit that now, I am done with the “shit” on my face.

So yesterday I went to a plastic surgeon who cut out the scar tissue. I’ll have cleaner, straight scars that are more likely to heal correctly and be less visible. I have a few stitches and a swollen eye for now, but it’s not too bad. We’ll see what it looks like in the end.

And while I look like I’ve been sucker-punched, I decided it’s a good time to hunker down here at home and get Vi potty-trained. She’s got to be fully trained for preschool in the fall, and she’s showing all the signs of being ready.

I’ve had some half-hearted attempts in the last few months without a methodology to follow, so I ordered “Potty Training in 3 Days” by Lois Kleint. I’ve read that her technique is similar to another one developed by a woman here in San Francisco that has potty-trained hundreds of kids. The idea is to have a really intense first three days where the kid goes diaper-free, almost cold turkey, even at night.

I’ve read the book, and tomorrow we begin. I’m really nervous to throw out all of her diapers, but I’m even more afraid of the toll that constant attention to the slightest of her bodily signals for three full days will take on my emotional fortitude, especially when I have Hazel to look after. I’m afraid of getting overwhelmed, frustrated, and exhausted, which is guaranteed to happen. But here we go anyway.

We’re gonna have an old-fashioned plastic surgery healin’, pee’in and poop’in weekend. Yee haw.

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