Burn Baby Burn

I inherited my father's skin which would have been lovely had he not been nearly translucent. While my mother's skin was a pallette of beautiful browns, my father had two shades - stark white and medium rare. So, taking after my father meant that I was the kid that wore the zinc oxide on her nose. You remember that kid, don't you? Yep, that was me. I was also the kid who had to hold her nose when she jumped in the pool. Every time I jumped in the pool, my fingers would slip off of my nose and I would inhale large amounts of water. Pinch, slide, sputter...pinch, slide, sputter...such were the days of my bygone summers. I begged my mother to skip the zinc oxide because my taste buds were much too sophisticated for chlorine but she was insistent. She would sit me down, cigarette dangling precariously from her lips, and slather my nose with the grease. Then, she would pop a Budweiser and send me on my way. Pinch, slide, sputter...pinch, slide, sputter...and then one day, my mother told me she had found a solution. She applied the zinc oxide as usual and then pulled a scuba mask out of her bag and handed it to me. On that fateful day, I went from being the pitied girl with the zinc oxide on her nose to the laughable girl with the zinc oxide on her nose who had to wear a scuba mask while swimming. Ah...the formative years... So, you may be wondering why I chose today to share this special memory with you...well, I reached up to scratch my nose and I realized it is peeling.