Just Call Me The Freckle Lancer
August 13th, 2006
Burning would be my bag, baby.
You, with your moles and your freckles and your skin covered in dark abrasions would come to me looking for help. Fed up with having to be one of those people without pure un-marred skin, you would come to my office (which would be out of the back of my mini-van) and hand me the cash as fast as you possible could. I would pull out my steaming, crackling metal devices, approach that freckle that looks like Antarctica on your forearm and get down to business.
You would call me The Freckle Lancer and it would all make sense.
Let’s face it. Freckles are like the burnt popcorn pellets you find in the bottom of a butter-laced movie bag of the stuff. They leave a bad taste in your mouth and if you can help it you’d rather not have any of them near you. The faint looking freckles that have no height or width are “cute” but the ones that rise like yeast in an oven are considered the “evil ones” that must be lanced (or burned off with a hot flame) or frozen off to save you from the cancer that the freckle will one day bring into your lovely life.
I would much rather be a Freckle Lancer than a Freckle Freezer.
Sure, freezing off freckles that could potentially someday be worse than normal everyday freckles may seem like the less painful situation. Sure, ice cube pain (where you hold it in your mouth or on a body part for minutes) doesn’t seem to be the worst pain in the entire world — but it is. The Freckle Freezers will have you believe that freezing off an errant freckle is the way to go. The cleaner, safer, more appropriate way.
But I say, nay!
As the Freckle Lancer, I’m here to tell you that if you’ve got freckles you want out of your life — flames are the way to do it. More specifically, lancing them off. And since “lancing” rhymes with “dancing” — it makes it sound like a much more active, entertaining process. But what does “freezer” rhyme with? Well, there’s “wheezer” (breathing issues) and “teaser” (ridicule) and “greaser” (oily) and “tweezer” (more pain) and “geezer” (painful old age) and “caeser” (salmonella poisoning from bad dressing) and so on.
“Lancing” just has a much more entertaining element to it.
Other than “dancing” there’s “prancing” and “romancing” among others, and if I’m a patient of my own, I can tell you that all the associated words that go with lancing make me feel way more confident that the whole “medical procedure” will be far more fun than any kind of freezing going on in the other camp.
But I hear you: rhyming words doth not make a freckle procedure all hunky dory.
Still, if I had lancing abilities in my repertoire, I would put those talents to good use in offering up free weekend and nighttime services where I would lance any of those horrific unwanted freckles you’ve got on your arms completely away. And then, after they’d been lanced, burnt and scabbed over — the two of us would go grab a few drinks (somewhere low key and casual) and we’d laugh about how those freckle freezers were so living in the dark ages.
How many unwanted freckles do you have?
Right?
That’s what I’m saying.
freckles always remind me of Pippi Longstock.
can i be evicted of this?
Comment by treespotter — August 13, 2006 @ 10:06 am
Treespotter - You’re safe. That eviction was a one time thing. Now, will you be potentially chosen to be stalked by the rest of the WFME readership at a later date? Maybe. But evicted? Nah.
Comment by Pauly D — August 13, 2006 @ 10:14 am
I would like to believe that, but I’ve watched enough reality TV to know that I should expect the unexpected. At some point I could find out that treespotter is a long lost relative of mine.
And I could have some accidental butt-cleavage pixelated out.
Comment by Peter — August 13, 2006 @ 10:49 am
I think that charging at the spot from,say, ten feet, at high speed with a soldering iron would be fun. We could blindfold you and spin you around like in pin the tail on the donkey. It would be Pin the blister on the idiot, instead, though. We could sell tickets and lemonade and those peanuts that come in the red and white striped bag.
For this I would pay good money. More than I paid for my kid to go see the Goo Goo Dolls, in fact.
What sayest thou?
Comment by Julia Farley — August 13, 2006 @ 1:23 pm
Dude, I suspected before, but now I KNOW there is something seriously wrong with you. And apparently, with me as well because I stayed to read the entire thing!
Comment by Monica Ricci — August 13, 2006 @ 2:02 pm
I stopped counting my freckles at age 10 or so as it had become a daunting task. At 20, or there abouts, I desperately wanted my freckles to conjoin as if siamese twins who felt lonely. I thought that way I would look “smoother” and, let’s face it, one hot mama. At 30 I came to accept myself, including my spots. I love my freckles and skin cancer or not, wanna keep em all.
:::doing anti-skin cancer dance:::
Comment by ro — August 13, 2006 @ 2:24 pm
I have no freckles and can thus not partake in the joy that is freckle lancing.
Do you do bad hair day repairs as well? I would be there every day if you did (well, that is, if you expanded to Europe).
Comment by Merel — August 13, 2006 @ 2:59 pm
Sad to say (well…not really, if I think about it, and considering this post), I do not have freckles on my face. I do, however, have them on my arms, legs, etc., and they are perfectly fine there, out of my way, and covered by my clothes.
Comment by Anne — August 13, 2006 @ 7:57 pm
Hmmmm… What are the chances of me coming to this particular site at this particular time and reading this particular post? For my first visit nonetheless. Well, I don’t really know what the chances are, but it’s just one of those weird things. Why you ask?… (humor me and pretend you asked)… Well, I just happened to have the name “freckleface” when I was growing up. So where was the “freckle-lancer” 20 years ago (geez, I’m getting old) when I would have done anything… and I do mean anything… to get rid of them? Now… I realize they are a part of who I am. (deep, huh) that maturity comes with my old age.
Sage xox
Comment by SecretlySage — August 13, 2006 @ 11:05 pm
It took me a long time to accept my freckles and finally not want to get rid of them. Damn you for trying to make me feel insecure about them again!
Comment by Nicole — August 14, 2006 @ 9:16 am
Yeah, but freezer also rhymes with pleaser and lancer also rhymes with cancer…
*runs and hides*
Comment by James Cooper — August 14, 2006 @ 9:57 am
nobody ever, EVER stalked me before. I’m feeling so left out of all this excitement experienced by other serious bloggers.
what do you do to get stalk properly?
Comment by treespotter — August 14, 2006 @ 10:40 am
James - Freezer doesn’t rhyme with pleaser. It looks like it does, but it doesn’t.
Comment by Pauly D — August 14, 2006 @ 1:15 pm
uh, to Peter, i’d rather be related to the one with the pixelated cleavage.
Comment by treespotter — August 14, 2006 @ 11:59 pm
Speaking of Lance, did you hear that Lance Bass is gay? I know you’re busy with all your blogging so I wanted to fill you in on the latest.
Comment by Jacquie — August 16, 2006 @ 1:01 pm
I love my freckles. Don’t take away from what they are. Lots of men like women with freckles. Freckles are sexy, cute, and just a a natural part of some people’s skin. Ode to the freckles!
Comment by Katie Muchmore — July 22, 2007 @ 12:31 pm