Thursday, January 17, 2008

Things That Aren't Pretty

We are leaving for a romantic, tropical vacation in two days. Amazing. Not amazing? The coldsore that's picketing my face.

Now, if you've never experienced Herpes Simplex I, you're a lucky, lucky human. Not only do you avoid the humiliation of having herpes! you also don't have to feel like the Elephant Man. Why don't afflictions have PR reps? I mean, really. Cold and sore. Two things no one wants to be, outside a passive aggressive, sexually satisfying relationship. And why didn't someone spin it out of the herpes family? That's just bad company. Anyway.

I had big plans for the days leading up to our departure. For starters, I was going to get a haircut and go spray tanning. The former necessary, the latter absolutely critical. (I'm three shades darker than Nicole Kidman's undercarriage, which puts me somewhere between death and albino.) And do you know what kind of activities are the least fun when you feel uglier than ever? Activities that require someone to stare at you judgmentally. Especially the kind of people who work at places specializing in spray tanning. I don't need someone named Chad, whose biceps are greater than the circumference of my waist, staring at me right now.

I just spent $20.99 on Abreva. You've seen the commercials, but if you're not genetically predisposed to coldsores and fever blisters, they probably don't give you palpitations like they do me. Every time the ad comes on, I turn into a 9 year old loser who had to endure the deluge of "What's wrong with your lip?" all through the cold months. I have learned how to control and reduce these outbreaks over time; it's really not that big a deal anymore, usually one or two a year at most. This one makes me feel like I had budget collagen lip injections. Fat and supple, but lopsided and throbbing. Now, I've always wanted fuller lips, but not like this. Not pretty.

I'm not sure why I'm writing about this, Day 2 on my blog about all the things we long to be. Just keeping it real, I guess.



    The tone of this post is hilariously formal given the subject matter. I just hope that my laughter doesn't produce a karmic kick to the crotch (one of Herpes Simplex's favourite homes).

    Just be thankful that your milky skin is paired with lightish hair. The jet black hair on my body makes me look like an alabaster disaster.