Public humiliation is good for the soul.

After my humiliating display at the dermatologist's office Monday, I dropped my coveted prescriptions off at the pharmacy and went on my merry way. Hours later, I swung back by to pick them up. After all, we mustn't tarry when we are combating adult acne. A 29 year old person should have outgrown this adolescent ailment by now. I digress.
At the pharmacy, I gave my last name and saw the ears of the pharmacist perk up on down the counter.
"Is it the ACNE CREAM?!" he shouts down the counter, into the pharmacy and across half of the grocery store. Oh, Lord. A little louder please, I don't think the folks back in the dairy section heard you. I ducked my head in embarrassment and began reading medical pamphlets with great zeal. Diabetes? High Blood Pressure? Who was I to care? I was definitely not the acne-ridden patient in question. I furrowed my brow and hid behind the Asthma and You brochure. I carefully stayed away from the Exzema leaflet. No sirree.
"It just says skin cream!" replies the cashier to the pharmacist. People in line are watching them like a tennis match.
"Ma'am?" I peeked over my pamphlet and raised my eyebrows. "We don't have the acne medication in the strength your doctor requested in stock. Would you like me to call it into the Walgreens down the street?" The people in line looked at me to see if I would indeed like my acne cream transferred over to Walgreens. I nodded meekly and my acne and I slunk out of the store.
Perhaps I'll just use the drive through at the Walgreens. And maybe a veil.