The horror, the horror!

When I was a little girl I loved my Nana. She was under 5 feet tall and over 5 feet round and had waist length greying blonde hair that she twisted into a bun. She'd let us comb her hair for hours if we wanted to. She was born in Wales and would sing Welsh songs as she went about her chores but her parents were Irish and she wore their Irishness like a badge of honour. She gave me treats whenever I wanted them and could always cure what ailed me whether it be an earache or an injured ego. But there was one thing about my Nana I didn't like: the plethora of little pale brown growths on her neck. I later discovered that these growths are benign and are called skin tags but they still creeped me out. Imagine the horror that struck me the other day when I spied one of these disgusting anomalies dangling from my own neck! "WTF" I screamed then sprang into action. I grabbed a loofah and scrubbed that sucker off (Bill O'Reilly isn't the only one who knows how to put a loofah to good use!). I guess I'll have to add skin tag search and destroy to my already complex beauty routine; it ain't easy being glamourous.