SPF 0

So I'm happy to report that the creme brulee topping that encased the bulb of my nose completely chipped off last night. I almost saved the flaky goodness for show and tell with my coworkers. I thought better of it. Maybe next time.

Apparently sunburns don't happen all that often in the mid-Atlantic. At least 25 people have commented on the burn that ravaged my face and the front of both arms, as well as leaving me with an unattractive sock line on only one ankle. The rarity of these burns, like finding a straight man at Ikea, prompted one stranger to exclaim, "Oh my God, LOOK AT THAT!" which in turn prompted me to search the horizon for Godzilla, and the convenience store woman, who always thinks I want to buy Marlboros even though I only buy soda from her, to recoil and cry, "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!?" while making circling motions like she was exfoliating with a belt sander. I promptly checked for a third eye upon returning to my desk. All clear.

My Monday night date was kind enough to say that my face looked fine, and when I called him out on his gentle lies upon returning from the bathroom, he acknowledged that he could only make out three of the blisters camping on my nose. We like.