Puberty

First, she tells me to unbutton my shirt.

Take it off, she says.

She looks at my naked torso intently.

Her eyes glance over my wild thatch of chest hair, forlorn nipples, protruding ribs.

She gets up and comes near.

Cups my chin in her hand and twists my face for a better view.

Then she run her fingers through the rough hair on my head, probing for something.

Her fingers play a cool concerto on my skin.

Satisfied, she prescribes a dosage of antibiotics, Clindamycin gel and Vitamin E capsules.

I am 15 years old. I have discovered acne and dermatologists.