Note to self: taking a picture of one's own sunburned back and thighs with a cell phone camera, alone, with the help of the bathroom mirror, will result in no usable photo and 45 minutes that could have been spent more productively.
That's too bad, actually, because it is my most impressive sunburn ever. Brown shoulders. Normal colored spine area. Then, discernible handprints breaking up the crimson splotches around both side waists. White rear end, leading to glutes that appear to have been slathered in cherry jello, which was then allowed to drip and dry.
So much for spray-on sunblock.
I should have spent that 45 minutes last night using my reasoning, comparing this careless sunburn to my dating life, but I didn't. (I went to bed, actually. Hallelujah!)
But this morning on the bus I thought of a whole bunch of topics .... none of which I really feel like developing. Feel free, if you so choose.
On being alone and scarred .... if only I had had a date with to help me reach the unreachable spots, or telling me to cover up at the first sign of pink, or forcing me to lie on my back, instead of exposing it, so that he could spend the time kissing me.
On the aftermath of a bad choice ..... since 2 days later, as it pours rain outside my window, I'm consumed by the itch under my left bra strap and shifting in my seat. There has got to be a metaphor relating this to a lousy date you feel in your gut long after he's out of sight.
On the after-effects of sunburn itself .... sometimes it mellows to a tan that looks good in tanktops; sometimes it blisters; and too many doses of it can lead to something cancerous.
Oy. That one works a little too well.
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@Karin. To extend the metaphor of equating sunburn with dates, for the next day or two or three, when you're in the shower, set the temperature to cool and allow water to cool off skin for about five minutes each application. Save metaphor of "cancer" for job-related disasters. No blisters, no problems.
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