Face Invaders

I've been looking forward to tomorrow night for a while now. The rugby team my husband played for for years is having their annual Awards/Get-Drunk-and-Crazy Dinner in the city. It was a fun event even when we lived in NYC pre-kids and went out all the time, but now that we can count on one hand the number of times we get out each year without the kids, it's downright exciting.

I will be wearing a pretty dress, heels, and mascara for the first time since summer.

So the cold sore that appeared on my upper lip a few days ago was less welcome than usual.

AAAHHHHHH, SUSAN!!! Why, why, why? This is SO YOU, just classic, gross Susan. Oh, there's an important event coming up? BAM! Cold sore!

You should hear me the week leading up to something fun (high-school reunion, Christmas party, tropical vacation, whatever); I begin reciting my pleasedon'tletmegetacoldsore, pleasedon'tletmegetacoldsore mantra. I'm not sure who I'm telling exactly because generally I'm not a prayer, but I figure begging and pleading can't hurt. (Hey, you never know who might be listening, though why they'd listen to me, I don't know.)

This week's cold sore got me thinking about my childhood and the dreaded SCHOOL PICTURE DAY. Because, inevitably, I'd get a cold sore beforehand and ruin the photo.

Oh, you think I'm exaggerating? Yeah, so did I at first. I thought maybe once I had a cold sore in a school picture and that time had distorted the memory. But then while at my parents' house over Thanksgiving, I decided to peruse some old photo albums.

And that's when I confronted The Horror (not in chronological order):

Super-cute pigtails...super-gross cold sore.

My mom calls this one my "Queen
Victoria" pose. I call it "Ugly Amish
girl with cold sore."

The smile is a hopeful one that says "Gee, I
hope my almost-but-not-quite-gone cold sore
doesn't show up in the picture!" No such
luck, Little Susan.

I loved that APPLE shirt. What I didn't love
was the cold sore that appeared on my face
 every year before Picture Day. (The glare
hides it but trust me it's there, bottom-right).

Mustard-colored 70's turtleneck=ugly
Mustard-colored turtleneck + cold sore=heinous

All five photos are from elementary school. And since I was in elementary school for a total of six years...well, you do the math. Okay, I'll do the math: over 80% of the time I had a cold sore in my school photo. That is craaaazy. And disgusting, painful, and embarrassing.

And humbling...definitely oh-so humbling.