A medical opinion.

My GP,  a smoking during the consultation, 'free' for a 30E fee isn't a bad guy.

He has offered advice and helped me out during emergencies.  He is the sort of man that will jump in if you ask, pay, and promote him. A 'pay me back for my chivalry' type of character. 

The sort of man that thinks throwing flowers at singers at Greek Clubs known as the bouzoukia (you have to attend to appreciate this description) is charming, not sleazy.

He is however. a good doctor.

I usually visit without makeup, sporting a comfy 'at-home' relaxed look. These medical appointments with a guilt-free zero effortless and style-less appearance, when I am unwell are in my mind  - largely expected and understandable.

Over the last year or so, he has caught on to my woes & offered support, and if I needed it, intervention.  As noted earlier, he is a good doctor, and I don't think my 'natural look ' influenced his extra care attention.  

Walking out of these these consultations, I noticed that in addition to my zero-style style (yes deliberately repeated), I managed to slap on a bit of snotty red nose and matching rimmed eyes -  after a heartfelt sob to catwalk through the waiting room - ready to frighten the doctor's next visitor.

Following a stellar attempt at looking exceptionally unkempt, at my last visit, he asked me to listen to him as a man, not as my doctor...

I panicked and quietly chastised myself for putting on a skirt that failed to cover my unshaved legs. I braced myself for the onslaught of ' you need to take better care of yourself in the appearance department' and simultaneously saw a flash of my mother nodding and smiling smugly wearing her ' I told you so' face.

He told me to try walking around with a smile. He said I was an attractive woman. I frowned. I was uncomfortable but mildly relieved that I didn't hear what I expected to.  

I left, slightly confused, less snotty, feeling better, without medication. 

And, for the first time in a long time, with a smile.