Chemical Peel Day 3 or A Snake and Her Move

Hey friends. So yesterday was crazy busy. K and I were up at the ass crack moving all that we had accumulated in a mere year out of the apartment at the eleventh hour and into our new home. In some ways I guess it's a good thing that I opted to have my face burned off on a weekend when we were doing something so grubby like moving- typically I could never tolerate holing up in my house for three days to hide the shame of my vanity. Despite it only being K and I all weekend I was still pretty horrified to even be around him... since my face was coming off in large sheets of dead skin. Let me rewind a bit.

The moment I woke up yesterday, reflexively my hand flew to my face to touch it. My skin felt a lot like someone had applied layers and layers of Elmer's glue and let it dry to a crispy mask. Each movement of my face, you know like talking or smiling, caused a crack in the tortured skin. So what I felt as I blindly surveyed the damage was the crispy dried edges of my flaking face.

I freaked the fuck out and ran to the bathroom for a better look. And what I saw staring back at me was even uglier than what I expected.

My skin was wrinkled and peeling in big sheets. The Sadist had been very clear about not picking so obviously I completely ignored that "suggestion" and immediately went to work trying to clean up the mess I had made of my face. That was my first mistake. Apparently medical professionals aren't just trying to ensure that I walk around looking like a fucking snake shedding it's skin by LEAVING MY PEELING FACE ALONE.

I would explain exactly why I wasn't supposed to do this but even writing it is making me a little nauseous now so let's just say that the fresh skin underneath wasn't exactly ready to make it's debut into the world.

I quickly learned to keep my hands off my face and even though it was really, really hard for someone with a bit of obsessive compulsive behavior, luckily my vanity won... mostly.

K and I got all our stuff moved into the new house and took a break to have a bit of breakfast. As we're standing around the kitchen drinking coffee and planning our attack on putting the house together I felt crispy bits of skin hanging off my face. I ran to the bathroom to vomit and considered how this chemical peel was actually good for my figure too as I purged the contents of my stomach.

I ventured into the world alone for a Target run halfway through the day and instantly wished I was wearing a burka. Because the universe was trying to teach me the lesson that I am not merely my external appearance, half the things I was looking for in Target involved asking people for help. And when I would ask these employees I noticed I was incapable of holding eye contact or smiling, because I felt grotesque and I figured they must be thinking the same thing too. I realize now how absolutely moronic I am to think that what looks like a pretty severe sunburn would even register on these stranger's scale as noteworthy. Silly how wrapped up in it all I can sometimes be.

We finished the kids rooms and the gym and I put together the kitchen. We played music all day and because of the openness of this beautiful place the sound carried between floors and walls. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows and for awhile I forgot all about my flaky face.

After hours and hours of cleaning and moving and organizing and hanging paintings and lining shelves and washing glasses and rearranging furniture we finally stopped for dinner. Kelly made us cocktails in fancy barwear and we sat in antique chairs that will serve as our living room until our sofa is delivered. We both had exhausted smiles on our face as we talked about how good this house felt, how happy we were to be home.

It's kind of ironic that I'm shedding my face on a weekend full of transition- kind of oddly symbolic I guess. I hope my new skin and our new house are all that I've dreamed of.