'Mark' my Words.

First things first, I am really glad that I am past the teenage acne years.

That being said, today I woke up with the blemish to rue all blemishes.
(Remember how we like that word bestest? It's the least disturbing.)

To avoid being overly graphic, it was not the kind that is easily 'pop-able'.
It is, however, the kind that will hang around for at least five days, causing people to stop looking into your eyes and instead stare trance-like at one specific spot on your face.

Lovely.

My one consolation is that this time it wasn't of the 'third-eye' variety. Meaning, the kind that is perfectly situated between both eyes, like an Indian jewel.

Except way grosser and less exotic.

Mine is more like a beauty mark, located just above the lip and to the side of the nose. (Beauty used here loosely, because the thing's a beast.)

But did you know that beauty marks were particularly highly regarded during the eighteenth century and creating false ones became common, often in fanciful shapes such as hearts or stars?

Interesting concept. Yet somehow I don't think a shamrock sticker on my face will solve any problems...

Why shamrock, you ask?
Because tonight is Corinner-Elly's Annual St. Patty's Day sleepover. The chill'ens are practically 'bursting' with excitement.
(Bad pun?? Sorry.)

So if you see me today, pretend that I'm emulating Marilyn Monroe.
And stop imaging a sparkly green clover on my face.