A few minutes ago I looked in the mirror and noticed to my extreme horror the dried spot of blood on my face. On the right side of my cheek, about an inch to the side and a little to the right of my lip, there it was, a giant, hideous glob of dried reddish blood. “Eww, and how did that happen?” My guesses are that either some super human soul stealthily shot me with a Fiberglass arrow, only grazing my skin or that I walked into something, acquired temporary amnesia and spontaneously began to bleed. The blood was dry which also led me to believe that it had been sitting on my face, in full view, for some time. “Gross and Damn it!”
Let’s see, in the time that the blood was most likely coagulating, I went out to lunch with Dave and did a bunch of other things. At at our local Good Karma restaurant, I sat across from my dear husband for nearly an hour eating my citrus glaze covered Chicken Kebob while Dave ate his yummy Lamb and Chicken Coconut Indian Curry. Not a word. Not one word. We talked, we smiled. I think we even held hands, and nothing. I ate a bunch of his spicy chicken curry. Nothing. Not even a slight notice of the giant splotch. When I assume my face was compromised and before we began to eat, we learned from our waitress that we actually needed the two for one coupon, instead of just telling the waitress about the ad in the paper. Dave’s office was close by so decided to we walk back and retrieve the coupon. At his office I met his new intern. In fairness to this young and fresh employee, I am guessing it would take a lot more than seeing blood on my face for him to speak up to his boss’s wife. What would he say, “Ah, um, Dave’s wife, um, your face is bleeding.” I’d think it would be a little weird too.
As Dave and I left the office, I said hello to his business partner’s mother and exchanged a smile with another woman I almost went into business with. Not a word, not a word from either one of these ladies. You would expect something from a fellow female, wouldn’t you? We made it back to the restaurant. We spoke with two waitresses. At this point the closest indication that anyone was trying to tell me that I a had a glob of dried blood on my face was the funny look I received from business partner’s mother, if it even was a funny look?
After finishing lunch and before I even arrived to pick the boys up from school I had encountered six people directly, including Dave. He and I also walked by another company’s barbecue on our way back to my car. In fairness to the barbecue folk, I am sure they would not blurt out to a complete stranger, “Hey, lady, you are bleeding,” would they?
For me the most shameful-blood-on-my-face moments would have to be all the other mothers I engaged when I picked up the boys. Today not only did I say hello to the moms in the pick-up line, I also went inside the school. How many women and children do I see daily that also saw my deranged face?
Once home, not knowing my predicament, I looked in the mirror while flossing a random piece of something or other out of my teeth. There it was, the BLOOD and that is where all my retroactive panic began. If I have blood on my face, food in my teeth or toilet paper dangling off of my feet, I would greatly appreciate the heads up. Now if you notice the gap between my teeth, I know it is there too. That, I am stuck with.