A Bit Odd
Every once in a while there is just a day when my face swells up like a big water balloon. It doesn't happen often, just every other year or so and it only happens for a day. It doesn't seem to follow any particular pattern. Sometimes it is in the summer, sometimes in the winter. I didn't eat anything out of the ordinary, nothing I don't normally eat within the course of a week. I didn't slather my face in foreign chemicals or rub it on a cat's behind. Nope. As far as I can tell. my face just decided to puff up.
Today is not as bad as in years past. Today I just look like a bad lip job. It isn't lumpy or noticeably freakish like other years. Once the right side of my face swelled up while the left side looked just fine. People were afraid to look at me on the street. Ah well. It just feels like my poor lower lip is being devoured by my huge, floppy upper lip in a permanant, bratty pout. This too shall pass.
People tell me I should have things like that "looked at". I know I probably should because I am convinced that it is the bizarre inconvenience that is going to do me in and not the big, brand name disease. I always figured that I would die from something relatively obscure. No heart disease or cancer for me! Of course, I might get heart disease or cancer, but I'd survive them only to be tragically smothered by breathing in goose down during a pillow fight. I always liked the comedic value of getting hit by a bus, but I think I'd be more likely to be mangled by a street sweeper. It's just the kind of gal I am.
How Irish of me to turn a little swelling into a disturbing stroll down the path of my own demise. How Irish of you to get your back up because I said it was Irish of me to do so!
Anybody want to fist fight? Ten rounds, bare knuckle in the blistering sun! Come on! Any takers? I'll insult your mother if it helps!
I know this is totally off the topic, but for some years I have been thinking about what a great movie it would be to see John L. Sullivan's last major bare knuckle fight in real time. I would so want to see that. All accounts are riveting and disgusting. Just to think that men would willingly do that blows me away. It was in the hot sun. They blistered. They bled. They vomitted! And yet they kept fighting. There are only two reasons for men to fight like that, Sex or money. Sometimes those are one and the same.
Well, it is time for my swollen face to make some breakfast and get out the door. If my lip will be able to fit through, that is.
Today is not as bad as in years past. Today I just look like a bad lip job. It isn't lumpy or noticeably freakish like other years. Once the right side of my face swelled up while the left side looked just fine. People were afraid to look at me on the street. Ah well. It just feels like my poor lower lip is being devoured by my huge, floppy upper lip in a permanant, bratty pout. This too shall pass.
People tell me I should have things like that "looked at". I know I probably should because I am convinced that it is the bizarre inconvenience that is going to do me in and not the big, brand name disease. I always figured that I would die from something relatively obscure. No heart disease or cancer for me! Of course, I might get heart disease or cancer, but I'd survive them only to be tragically smothered by breathing in goose down during a pillow fight. I always liked the comedic value of getting hit by a bus, but I think I'd be more likely to be mangled by a street sweeper. It's just the kind of gal I am.
How Irish of me to turn a little swelling into a disturbing stroll down the path of my own demise. How Irish of you to get your back up because I said it was Irish of me to do so!
Anybody want to fist fight? Ten rounds, bare knuckle in the blistering sun! Come on! Any takers? I'll insult your mother if it helps!
I know this is totally off the topic, but for some years I have been thinking about what a great movie it would be to see John L. Sullivan's last major bare knuckle fight in real time. I would so want to see that. All accounts are riveting and disgusting. Just to think that men would willingly do that blows me away. It was in the hot sun. They blistered. They bled. They vomitted! And yet they kept fighting. There are only two reasons for men to fight like that, Sex or money. Sometimes those are one and the same.
Well, it is time for my swollen face to make some breakfast and get out the door. If my lip will be able to fit through, that is.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 7:49 AM
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