Yeah, you’re going to have to wait another day for the Internet dating thing – and don’t even think about complaining. As of yesterday morning, my entire focus has been on not horrifying small children with my ugly, ugly face. And don’t even try to tell me I’m overreacting – you haven’t seen me. My cat won’t even come near me right now.
(Who knew I was so vain? I actually considered calling into work ‘ugly’ instead of ‘sick’ today. But I realized I needed to get out of my apartment – God knows what might be lurking in there.)
What am I talking about, you ask? What happened, you ask? Well, short version of how I went from an attractive woman to a monstrous freak in one weekend:
Upon going to bed on Saturday night, I looked like myself. I’d had a relatively low-key date night with NY Guy, and around 1am we fell asleep. (That’s all the information you’re getting or need – suffice it to say, nothing unusual happened.) Then, Sunday morning came. And when I woke up, something was…off.
There I was sprawled out in bed, minding my own business. Then I decided to stretch and tried to open my eyes. Operative word in that last sentence: tried. You see, my right eye wasn’t opening. At all. And this wasn’t the usual ‘my eyes are kind of swollen and itchy from allergies’ not opening. This was ‘Ow! What the fuck?! My right eye feels like it’s going to explode and I can’t open it’ feeling. Never felt that before? Well, neither had I.
“Something’s not right,” I groaned as I began to prod at my face. ‘Yup, that feels like some serious swelling,’ I thought. ‘Okay, remain calm.’ Yeah right.
Kicking NY Guy, I switched from confused and curious to totally starting to panic. “Wake up,” I said (wimpered). “Something’s wrong.”
“Hmm?” he mumbled into his pillow. That earned him a poke. “OK, what?” he asked, beginning to come to as he rolled to face me.
Then he opened his eyes and actually looked at me – and came fully awake. Sitting up, he studied my face for a few seconds before finally saying, “Um…”
“Um? What’s ‘um’?” No answer. “What’s on my face?” I finally asked (shrieked).
Now I don’t know what I was hoping to hear at this point, but it wasn’t laughter. Only that’s what I got. A lot of laughter. NY Guy…was laughing…at me.
Deciding against yelling at him (yet), I got up and went into the bathroom. And that’s where I saw it for the first time. Painful, swollen, red, ‘baseball eye’ (as I’ve taken to calling it). I literally looked (look actually – it hasn’t gone away) like I was hit in the face with a baseball. (Or a fist if the sympathetic looks I was getting on the train this morning were any indication.)
“What is that?!” I screamed, wetting a towel with cold water and holding it to my eye. “What happened last night?”
NY Guy (having regained control of himself), calmly yelled into me “I don’t know. Come back in here and let me have another look.”
Not actually suspecting he was to blame (but wanting to give him a hard time for the laughing), I walked back into the bedroom and asked point blank, “Did you elbow me in the face while we were sleeping?”
He didn’t even bat an eye – NY Guy already knows the trick with me is to ignore me half the time – instead he shook his head and pulled me down next to him. “You’re insane,” he pointed out as he began to poke at the eye. “What are the odds that you wouldn’t wake up if I hit you THAT hard?”
Damnit, good point. Plus, if one of us was going to hurt the other one in their sleep, the hurter would most likely be me (he would be the hurtee). I tend to get very protective of my space while sleeping.
So then what was it?
Well, the overriding theory is it’s a spider bite. Both NY Guy (not a doctor) and my mother (giving her diagnosis over the phone) think that’s the most logical explanation. (NY Guy wants me to go to a real doctor today – fat chance, I’m still mad at mine.) My thoughts? Well, I don’t really have any on what could have caused this. But if I have some mutant, killer spider in my apartment that can do shit like this to my face, I need to move.
So let’s be clear here – I’m horrifying. I look like some cartoon version of an ugly person. And I’m embarrassed to be me right now (call me shallow – I don’t give a fuck). I even put my sunglasses on while on the train this morning (yes, I was THAT person). And I don’t care. I’m allowed to feel very, very sorry for myself right now. (Any comforting words you may have for me would be much appreciated – but be warned, any sarcastic and mean commenters will be yelled at.)
So for today, no Internet dating or Christine stories. I am going to just sit at my desk and think good, non-swollen thoughts. Feel free to offer up miracle cures if you have any.