Tuesday, May 3, 2011
What Happened to Your Head?! Or, Why I Wear Sunscreen
I got these stitches over the weekend in Pakistan.
Would tell you more, but without appropriate security clearance I'd have to kill you.
Okay, okay. It was actually pint glass to the head during a pub brawl after Wills & Kate got married. You should see the other guy.
All right, fine. I got attacked by the dermatologist. Skin surgeon, to be exact. My second time having Mohs (rhymes with "nose") surgery on my forehead. Don't really recommend it, but it's better than letting a basal cell carcinoma turn into some other more frightening form of cancer.
I blame Garden City Beach, SC, summer of 1987. Me in my first teen-age bikini -- floral, with ruffles (it was the 80s, after all, and I needed the help). He was tall and thin with a great smile. We spent a couple hours talking and flirting in the ocean, no sunscreen to protect my face from the bright sunshine and the even brighter reflection off the water.
When I woke up the next day with a headache, I looked in the mirror to find my purple, blistered forehead had swollen to twice its normal size. The bad news: my parents wouldn't let me out of the beach house during peak sun hours. The good news: the boy still thought I was cute enough to send me a mix tape (Guns N' Roses, Metallica and U2, 'cause he was that cool) when he got back home.
Now, more than two decades later, I'm paying the price.
So in case you needed a reminder to wear sunscreen and hats this summer, take another look at those stitches. I can promise you the boys do not think they're a turn-on. Thankfully, my husband loves me, even when I'm wounded.