My Body is A Dictatorship Not a Democracy

Killer, enforcing the law of the land

Well, it is official, in a few weeks I am to under go the surgical knife to have a have a portion of myself removed. Don't get me wrong, there is a lot of me to spare, but still, it is always nerve racking to have surgery.
I work around people who receive much more complex and serious surgeries all the time, but this is me, and frankly, I like me more than anyone else.

I am having a benign lipoma removed from my jaw. "Benign?" This is what you might initially think, but it is still a big deal. Not that it is just any tumor, but it is a lipoma. A lipoma is a fatty tumor. A big chunk of fat that is lacking in the common courtesy to go to the pre-approved fat areas, but instead decides to set out and begin it's own little community. It is a little like a farmer finding a group of dirty hippies living on his 100 acre farm land. It is not like they are doing any harm, but still, it is the principal. I don't want my fat thinking it can just do whatever it wants. I need to take measures now before the rest of my fat evolves into utter anarchy.

I have ample amounts of fat. It has always been quite well behaved and stayed in my gut. I am not sure if maybe there have arisen new issues that should be addressed. Maybe I have reached capacity and now the fat is striking out in search of new, fertile lands to occupy. Maybe all the Mexican food I have been eating lately has introduced a new class to my fat, causing a "white flight" of sorts in which the more established fat cells are moving away from the city center out of an irrational fear of foreigners. Stranger things have happened. The fat might have held some covert council meeting and, citing imminent domain laws, annexed my cheek and jaw area. There is only one thing to do in this type of situation, and that is to nip it in the bud.

When I first noticed the lump, a few years ago, I was at first concerned I had a more serious cancer that involved lymph nodes and a shortening life span, but after some tests, I was told it was nothing serious and I should ignore it. It was much smaller then, and basically undetectable to the human eye. Over the following years it slowly grew into a mass that was more obvious if you looked for it. I went as far as to name it. George, I called it, and I joked with people that it is my conjoined twin who got the short end of the genetic stick and has been forced to spend his life in obscurity living on my cheek.

Unfortunately for George, it is now time to remove him and let me get on with my life. If it gets any bigger I am going to have to join the circus as the two headed freak. I have included a diagram for better understanding of what I am dealing with.

The Surgery is scheduled for two weeks from now. I am hoping this will send a stern warning to the rest of my fat to keep in line. If this kind of thing happens again I might be forced to take more drastic measures. Like going to the gym or eating less burritos. Nobody wants that.