I got a little sunburned this weekend. Just enough of a burn to turn my take my face from its normal pasty color past a healthy flush to a bit too much red in the pink. It doesn't hurt at all, unless I poke it with a fingernail or crinkle my forehead. In fact, there are only two ways that I can even tell I'm burned.
The first is if I look in a mirror, or some other reflective surface, and see how my face is now the color of a pink Necco wafer.
The second way is when SLFC says, "You're sunburned." of "You got some sun this weekend." or "You sure are red." or "Doesn't that hurt?"
She. Does. This. Every. Time. She. Sees. Me.
All. Day. Long.
Yesterday. And. Today.
It's a little irksome.
Each time she points out my sunburn to me, I tell her that it doesn't hurt; that I don't even notice it; that I've had so many sunburns in my life time, what's one more.
What I'd like to say (and do) is much more cruel.
Tomorrow the burn will start to peel. Two days later, my face will be its usual color. I'll probably be burned again soon enough and I'll have to put up with her pointing it out to me too many times a day again, though.
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