Sunday, May 22, 2011

5-22-11 My Oldest Scar

The older I get, the more noticeable the scar between my eyes gets. It's not exactly centered, but close, and I could pass it off as spending too much time looking at people with that trademark quizzical eyebrow arch, you know the one, where my whole forehead scrunches up trying to figure out what in the heck you are rattling on about. . .



And the brow furrows that get deeper every year are most definitely from doing that too much. This is a case of mom being just a bit right about "if you keep making that face it'll freeze that way." But that deepest line in the center is a wrinkle built around my worst chicken pox spot when I was 5.  I only have vague memories of oatmeal baths and being itchy, but as with most things, I could not just get a typical case of the pox and be done with it. I had to have a case where the pox were everywhere, inside my mouth and down my throat, because if you're going to do anything, you might as well go whole-hog. At least I had the sense to get them in the winter, which in Houston was never really cold, but it was a far sight better than having to suffer through it in the summer. At Christmas, I was on the mend with only the worst ones still visible, but Dad managed to get a nice shot of the one between my eyes:


I also still sport a white circle where you see the pox on my left hand, but it didn't leave a hole in the skin like the one between my eyes. It was always there, but time and the absence of botox have made it much deeper than it was. I can spot it in any picture, but until recently, I don't think anyone else could.  But now, it appears it will be one of my defining features in middle age.

See? No brow furrowing involved in this one:


I don't really mind. I kind of like the bit of character it shows, although I think need to find something more mysterious and exciting than chicken pox as a story to tell . . . in the midst of freeing myself from the loathsome kidnappers, I ran for safety through the Brazilian rain forest, but not before narrowly escaping their poison darts, one of which grazed past my eye as I spun, Matrix-like, through the fray. . .


2 comments:

  1. For my last blogger click of the evening -- I decided to check out my newest follower (like we all do) and I love your blog! Well, at least this post for sure. I admit I haven't read your whole blog. Yet.

    Definitely following. I love your writing style. :) Oh, and thanks for following me too.
    Much appreciated.

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  2. Hi Nancy! Just discovered your blog tonight and love it. Plus, you had me at the Grindhouse Blues. :)

    ReplyDelete