“You ripped off my mole!”

Going from living with girls to living with guys is a huge transition.  Now, 17 girls versus 2 guys isn’t really a fair comparison.  If you live with any 17 people, male or female or mixed, there are going to be problems.  But somehow, my brothers find a way to make up for their smaller numbers.  They burp, they fart, they yell, they wrestle, they stink. And then they do it all some more.

My brothers are 16 and 19, and last night they were engaged in their normal wrestling routine. Wrestling is brothers’ way of hugging, really.  But as often happens, one of them took it too far, and I heard indignant cries before long.  Usually this begins the bruising and retaliation round, but one word caught my ear: “mole”.  I listened more carefully.

“You ripped off my mole!”

Apparently when I had 3 moles removed a few years ago I could have saved my parents a good deal of money.  I didn’t need to go to a Dermatologist; I could have just wrestled with Stephen.

I found my 19 year old brother in the bathroom holding a small brown lump: the mole formerly located on his neck.  His younger brother ripped a mole clean off his neck, and its still bleeding.  Though I will say it probably didn’t hurt any less than when I had mine removed, and mercifully lacked the dramatic build up of my own dissection-it was instantaneous! (But really, if you had overheard my procedure you may have wondered if you should call 911 and quickly flee the building).

Maybe I should keep my extremities close. (And I at least have fewer moles to get in his way!)

Is worrying about the safety of my moles worse than navigating passive aggressive sister-spats? I’ll let you be the judge.

A bronze smaller reproduction in Munich of the...

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