Bounding into my room this morning at still-too-early-o’thirty (official Kid Standard Time), Jelly Bean threw herself across my slumbering back and did a perfect imitation of wee Princess Anna in Frozen, proclaiming, “The sky’s awake! So I am awake! So we have to play!”
My crabbiness was overcome by her cuteness and I cracked a smile. But when I say “cracked” I literally mean cracked. As in something by my lip snapped. And it hurt! I stopped smiling as quickly as a Sharpei at a Botox party. I ran to the mirror and was greeted by my old nemesis – my Bermuda Zit, so named because it sits in that unholy triangle of my lip, chin and cheek. Believe you me, if Amelia Earhart had crashed her plane into my Bermuda Triangle we would have found her before she got her socks wet because any little thing that touches that area of my face immediately prompts a skin eruption that make signal flares look like cocktail poppers.