Do you ever have days when everything you touch just turns into a mess? Or you stumble over things or step on the dogs' tiny toes? I could blame these things on being in my fifties, but it would be unfair. Fifties aren't so bad.
I'll just have to blame the messes I make and the accidental self-injuries on the face pain. Yesterday, after donning one of my favorite Williams-Sonoma aprons, I transferred some oil from one container to another, very carefully using my spatula. I poured too fast, leaving oil standing on the counter and dripping hither and thither. I was thankful that I had on the apron.
Chances are, though, that I have one of my aprons on. I usually put it on when I make my morning smoothie and leave it on until the evening dishes are in the dishwasher and the counters cleaned. Yep, aprons keep me from ruining perfectly good clothes.
Aprons aren't any help, though, when the real klutz in me emerges. Yesterday I stabbed my face with my thumb. Don't ask me how, but it bled and left me with an unsightly gash. I am thanking God that it's the good side of my face. Now I have one side that doesn't hurt but looks as though I have been in a fight. The other side hurts (yes, today) but it looks just fine. (Yes, we women in our fifties can still have nice faces.)
It's not the first time I have accidentally stabbed myself with my nail or stumbled into something, leaving mysterious marks. There's nothing like Bare Minerals -when applied with the right brush - to cover these things so well.
Once upon a time, I thought that everyone's face told a story. This is true in some instances. What I have come to believe these past few years after meeting so many people with trigeminal neuralgia is that our faces actually cover our stories. They are written on our heart, and our faces do their best to prove us brave.
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