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Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The day my face came off

I was just washing my face, I put on this nice honey lavender lotion and rubbed it into my skin, then I took a  steaming hot washrag, and as I was washing my face I felt a disturbing sense of it loosening. Looking closely at my pores and familiar wrinkles I began to notice my nose was off to one side. I tried to push it back and my nose over-responded as if it were made of clay and seemed now too far to the other side. I realized I better have a very delicate touch if I am to get things back the way they were. Once I realized how plastic my face had become I tried to pinch, prod and smooth it into perfection. My skin was so sensitive and responsive that it was just as easy to make things worse as it was to fix my imperfections. After a few hours of fiddling with little bumps, smoothing wrinkles, and defining my lips, I was satisfied. I was afraid though, my face with this new plasticity seemed unstable, a fragile work of art. Everything so carefully arranged could just as easily fall and leave a mess. That mess would be my face.

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