Tuesday, 6 November 2007

Getting There - I think

Back to the doctor again who removed the monstrosity of the plaster cast. He made me look at myself in the mirror - I had no choice. I briefly contemplated keeping my eyes shut but, well, I do have nerves of steel at times.

It didn't look too bad. I'm not sure exactly, because two seconds was all I got to look at it before he slapped the steri strips on again. There are so many I look as if I have a false white nose.

I was told the other day, while my nose was still in plaster, that I looked like Adam Ant - remember him, the pop star who used to wear a white strip of cloth across his face? (I've been compared to him before, au naturel - but that's another story. It was a compliment, may I add - though I've never quite worked out how.)

Now my cheeks, still bright red from the allergic reaction to the sticking plaster, make me look like Pippi Longstocking without the plaits.

Can it get worse?

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