I’ve been letting this blog slip a little lately, and that’s mostly a sign that my busy old life has started to accelerate again. I’m very happy about this.
I’m 95% sure this is Friday’s post, which means I was very glad to be upright enough to treat patients, even though I looked like death all day. I seem to have done enforced lying down for 28h this week and still have intractable bags under my eyes. Perhaps gravity works harder on my eye than my ear while I’m not looking. Or perhaps I dream that I am a panda and rub mascara all over my face while I sleep. Either way, lots of people politely pointed out that I looked exhausted, even though I wasn’t. This is traumatising for what’s left of my vanity, but I’m glad for the wake-up call. I might ask the acupuncturist about it tomorrow, and barring any more amazing insights from her I think I’m going to have to investigate under-eye cream soon. Maybe I’ll pay attention to one of those light-reflective anti-aging options Facebook has been so keen to sell me since I turned 30. Long story short, I’m grateful that I’ve had pretty good skin for 34 years. I may even, at some point in the near future, be grateful that there are illimitable
horrifying beautifying products available to me now that I’m starting to “need” them.