In honor of my birthday last week and the fact that I’m mourning the loss of the phrase “I’m in my mid-30’s” God decided to give me a gigantic reminder that I’m not truly “old” yet.
Because If I can have a zit the size of the titanic on my face, well then I obviously have just a wee bit of puberty still coursing through my veins, right?
Funny God….really funny.
So the ginormous blemish on the right half of my face has become “the elephant in the room” at our house. Nary a word has been mentioned about its arrival or the days following, where it has grown and grown to epic and near volcanic proportions.
Not even my four year old who likes to holler out; “Hey Mom, I see your crack,” when I’m bending down in the grocery store to reach something on the bottom shelf, has brought it up.
So I had this false sense of security that maybe it wasn’t noticeable after all. Maybe just maybe the 3 inch thick coat of concealer that I’ve been putting over it with my garden trowel has done the trick.
Excuse me while I choke on my sarcastic laughter.
Because today while doing math at the kitchen table with my kids, my husband came in to tap my vast knowledge of all things business by asking me a deep question about our taxes. And I noticed that while he was talking he was having a hard time focusing on what he was trying to say.
Now, in the early years of our marriage, my great perky breasts would be the only thing that would distract him from a long winded conversation about politics, the New Testament church, or 401-k plans. A little jiggle and he’d lose his train of thought and move onto something else. It was almost like a built in remote control, really.
But in a moment of clarity that revealed not only that my aging breasts were far from perky and distracting anymore, I realized my husband was staring at something entirely different.
And being the helpful wife that I am, I reached my hand up to cover the enflamed side of my face and said, “Speak to the eyeballs, honey, not to the zit.”
It marked a new era in our marriage, really. It’s probably the first time he’s ever finished a conversation with me in 13 years.
Drat, this aging stuff.