My Lips Hurt Real Bad...

I'm having a crisis at the moment. Read my lips. (wah, wah, wah...)
The gloss Lacy-Hacy gave me a few weeks ago is practically gone.

Do you know what this means??...
Soon, very soon, I may go into a dry lips coma.

Which can only end with a new tube of lip-smackin' Bonne Bell VitaGloss O2.

Some of you claim that I am addicted to the stuff.
But I just keep a stiff upper lip and say, "Don't give me any of yo lip!"
Ba Dum Dum.

I can't help it if my lips are drier than the Sahara Desert.
Like two pieces of shriveled jerky, they are.

The way I see it, lips shouldn't stick together when they're momentarily united. (I'm talking top lip and bottom lip, you sicko.)

And don't be fooled into thinking licking your lips will do the job. That only exacerbates the problem. I know this from experience.

Instead, show 'em a little love and use some product.
Balm, gloss, stick. It don't matter!

In fact, should you choose to use all three simultaneously, no one needs know. I promise. My lips are sealed.

Cause & Effect.

Everything has a consequence.

For example:

This is what happens when you let your local 'foot-and-ankle-clinic-working' roommate paint your toenails. Yay zebra!

Aren't they fantasmical?

But this is what happens when you let your 'not-so-formally-trained-as-a-dermatologist' father come at you with a can of air duster and a Q-tip. And this was even a few days later.

The immediate consequences were too gruesome to document on my G-rated blog. We're talking blisters. Possibly even comparable to boils.

What is the difference between a blister and a boil anyway?

Huh. According to Wikipedia,  "a boil, also called a furuncle, is a deep folliculitis, infection of the hair follicle. It is almost always caused by infection by the bacterium Staphylococcus aureus, resulting in a painful swollen area on the skin caused by an accumulation of pus and dead tissue."

Okay. Maybe PG.

But I'm sure you're wondering why I allowed Daddy-O to freeze off my epidermis with liquid nitrogen anyways? The truth is: I'm still wondering myself.

Suffice it to say, I have bumps.

(Ha ha, Gem. Get your mind out of the gutter.)

I guess, technically, they're really flat warts. But that name grosses me out beyond all belief. So I prefer to call them 'bumps'. Tiny, colorless bumps on my hand and arm that nobody really notices except me.

Which is why I let strange men burn them off. (No offense, Dad.)

And yet, they keep coming back!

I've decided that the more I'm determined they must go, the more determined they are to come back. Stubborn little suckers.

Same thing with the diamond shaped mole I've had on my right arm for as long as I can remember. When I was little, I told my mom how intensely I detested it and, without fail, every time she'd try to convince me that it was a beauty mark.

Does this look like a stupid face to you???

Don't answer that.

So when I convinced her to fund a trip to the dermatologist, I thought my blemish free dreams had finally come true.

HA.

Don't ever dream. It always ends badly.

'Cuz here I am, a year-and-a-half later and the diamond shaped 'beauty mark' is making its reappearance. CURSES.

Somebody just chop off my arms and put me out of my misery.