After a somewhat exhaustive effort, a referral to a non-plan geneticist was finally approved by my HMO. The importance of going to this non-plan geneticist?—he was the very same such professional that saw my mother two and a half years ago...and as a testament to her winning personality, both he and his assistant remembered her fondly, offered sincere condolences on her passing, when I spoke with them over the phone. We weren't thinking the approval would go through, and from the side of her mouth, an administrator at the hospital relayed that chances were that the geneticist would slip me under the door, free of charge if that be the case. See, my family doesn't just have a rare genetic disorder—oh-ho-ho!—we have the distinction of having a rare mutation of a rare genetic disorder. My mother is somewhat famous in the medical community's library—you might know her under the stage name "Subject X". Good read.

I took the above self-portrait last Thursday I think it was, planning to display the new hair, stating how Nick didn't seem to be overly gaga with the darker shade and chunky highlights...and how I didn't care because I got a totally unsolicited compliment on it from Brenda the other day and that's all I care about. (Gotta go with the fashionista of the family on that one.) I didn't get around to posting it, though, because I was so taken aback by the change in my blue-with-a-bit-of-hazel eye...which has now become my hazel-with-a-bit-of-blue eye. Sad. Every girl of Scandinavian descent wishes for the eyes...the icy Norwegian blues of my father. It isn't often that one looks at their own eyes, and I did not notice the transition.

So, along with my long list of questions—Can we get a group/family discount on pelvic scans? Do I really have extra organs, and if so why couldn't I have gotten an extra inch or two of height as compensation? Where do tailbones go when they run away? And the eyes, dear lord, the eyes...please tell me they aren't going to go all mustardy or orange one day. My grandmother, the 100% Norwegian biddy, always thought I should get a blue contact lens to hide the icky hazel DOT in that right eye...thank God she hasn't seen me lately. Honestly, if I've got no choice but to be all messed up on the inside, can't I at least look normal on the out?