Saturday, January 12, 2008

Mount Vesuvius

Though Age 40 is flirting with my reality, breathing its hot, sultry air on my neck, I still have Mount Vesuvius erupting on my chin. I haven't paid attention to a Clearsil ad in decades. Luckily, I have been pretty blessed with good skin. No sun worhshipping in my teens, daily moisturizer with UV protection (dedicated fan of Oil of Olay!), and my mother's good genes all contribute to my pretty healthy, blemish-free skin. By the way, Mom, we're so on to you smoking, despite your youthful skin. Suddenly I have a zit. A humdinger one at that. I'm talking the zit that you see in the sidebar of Webster's when you look up zit in the dictionary. I make a perfect "before" picture for any dermatologist developing her own line of adult acne medication.

Last night as I was lamenting (some might say whining) about this aberration on my chin. My husband stroked my hand and assured me that it wasn't so bad. "Not even the worst I've ever seen on you," he said (or lied). I took comfort in that and thought maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Fast forward to 7:30 this morning. Bird wakes up with that adorable half awake/half asleep crumpled look as he scampers into our room. He climbs into bed, snuggles in and gets comfortable. I give him a kiss, and he stares at me aghast and starts cracking up. "What's THAT on your chin?!" he manages to get out amid laughter and horror. I told him it's called a zit. A mere boo-boo on my face. He's too young to understand that zits are one of many of life's little cruelties. Right up there with ear hair and fat thighs (grade A chicken thighs as I like to call them) despite hours of cardio and five million squats, not that I have firsthand knowledge of either. But I digress...

Five minutes later, Deal comes in and clambers into bed. He takes one look at me and is clearly startled. He pokes his chubby little finger right into Mount Vesuvius (OUCH) and asks "What's that red thing on your face, Mommy?" "A zit," I say, now getting weary of this game. I shot an accusing glance toward my husband, while he pretended to fiddle with the sheets and not notice me...or Mount Vesuvius on the verge of eruption.

Lesson learned: A loving husband boosts his wife's ego (let's face it, because no woman who feels unattractive wants to participate in hot action later on). Children tell it like it is.
Mount VesuviusSocialTwist Tell-a-Friend

No comments: