tanning mishap

This adorable baby was born with a port-wine birthmark on her face.

I wake up this morning and look like this baby, except not adorable.

Yesterday I hang out with Robyn on her roof.  I love a little color.

I use one of those SPF30 sunscreen sticks for sun sensitive areas.  Under my eyes.  On my lips.  My nose.  My forehead. 

What was I thinking?  Today I can see the burn marks exactly where I didn’t use the stick.  I should have known better.

I look ridiculous.  Almost too ridiculous to leave my house.  If it were winter, I'd be wearing big sunglasses, a scarf and hoodie.  But I can't do that on a sunny 82 degree day.

I dare not post a photo of my whole face, but this will give you an idea.

I go into work, and announce, "Don't look at my face."  The responses I get are basically, "Believe me, no one is interested in looking at your face."  I work for a few hours, forgetting what I look like. There are no mirrors in the work area.

I come home and Alexander answers the door.  He was up in Ithaca this weekend so I haven't seen him since Thursday. He bursts out laughing and says, "You. Look. Horrible.  If I were you I would just get in bed and go to sleep." 

Then, in an attempt to be nice, he asks, "So, did you do anything this weekend?"  "Well, I saw a play with Jill on Saturday, and hung out on Robyn's rooftop yesterday."  He responds,  "And I can see that that didn't go too well."  I have no argument.