Reeeeee.Deeerrrrrr. Hi there, and welcome back, Me!
When I haven’t been here with you, I’ve been busy acquiring and suffering from Snorkel Lip.
Yes, it’s a thing. A very real and very scabby thing, evidenced here*.
*also evidenced here is my face on freckle overload. it makes me still shake my head with a laugh when I think about this one time I met a guy for a date and he took one look at me and said, “I’m not into freckles,” threw back his drink, and quickly left. One would think he would have SEEN said freckles in online dating pictures but apparently he was focused on my giant (not naked, but freckle-free in case you were wondering) boobs.
A few nights ago I noticed a hard spot under my lip and for realz I thought I was catching the mother of all herpes simplexes or complexes that affect your upper lip and not your Downstairs Lips, as I was sure that big hard part under the surface was going to ERUPT and look extra sexy at any moment and make all the muchachos want to bésame mucho. I thought I may have gotten whatever epizoodie was happening below the surface of my face from sucking on a dirty snorkel in Meh-heee-co.
But instead it was just the perfect storm of salt water, blazing sun and muchos muchos muchos like maybe fifteen but who’s counting margaritas on the rocks with more salt, and did I mention blazing sun? And also add a whole buncha extra salt from the beachside homemade tortilla-eating:
As all that salt and sand and sun was happening, I spent several hours with a snorkel crammed between those salty hot lips doing a lot of this:
Because there were fish that needed to be seen and I was determined to do my part, even if it meant sacrificing my lip in the process.
Luckily, this didn’t become a permanent reminder of a time I sucked on a dirty snorkel and instead just became a giant scabby zone of chapped-ness that will probably clear up at some point this week, with the help of a lot of shea butter and cat smooching.
We hope so anyway. At least I hope so. I’m not so sure about the cats.