Little French Girl

Last time I went to the dermatologist’s office, she used a magnifying glass to literally magnify all my freckles (which I actually love) and spots and speckles and stains and lesions (which I could do without… but have totally made friends with and don’t actually work hard enough at getting rid of) and white hairs (which I totally love) and wrinkles (with which I have a respectful relationship).

So I left feeling like I used to when I was a kid and hadn’t practiced the piano _quite_ enough and the teacher gave me one of those “You have potential… but if you don’t practice like a pro, you’ll never be a pro…” disappointed looks. [Spoiler alert: I never did become a pro.]

Anyway… Given how little I go out, a trip to the doctor’s office merited a not-so-little (fit n flare) black dress, a funky “pirate skull” scarf, my favorite shoes, and a messy bun. And the mask, of course.

When the medical assistant came into the reception room to call me, she goes, “Oh my! You are so cute! You look like a little French girl. Is that the look you were going for, sweetie?”

I laughed. Not intentionally. But I’ll totally take it.

“Well, I just took one look at you and thought, ‘Will you look at that?! It’s Audrey!'”

She made me feel about 12 years old (in the _best_ way) and called me “little French girl” all throughout our interactions…

And we parted on a “you really should go have some expresso or wine sitting in a quirky little cafe”.

So I might need a Breakfast at Tiffany’s date with myself…

Happy Friday!

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