I am vain enough to refrain from posting my current face. After a 2-week application of pre-cancer chemo-cream, I have a frightening mask of angry red damage from forehead to chin – “sun-damage from your childhood and teen years,” says my dermatologist.
Some reactions from my family:
“looks like a chemical burn from your meth lab”
I chose quiet January for treatment time, but I’ve still had to venture out, be seen. How important the face is! Our calling card, our “open to the public” sign, unless you’re a woman in a veiled society, which would be terrible, most of the time. People who see me have been polite, if startled, but I feel subdued, shy, withdrawn.
For today’s visual, I am sharing two faces of Fiona, who has found her smile. I’m on Grandma duty for a couple of days, and Fiona doesn’t mind my scary face a bit.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 149: 152 words, TOTAL = 24,218; 35,782 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.