‘Sblood but it is dry here.

My skin, once healthy and smooth looks like one of those desert river beds, where the water runs but once a year, then dries up. Certain frogs are able to burrow beneath it so that they can hibernate until the water flows again. Except instead of frogs, zits reside under the surface of my skin. Zits that were not there when I lived in a more humid clime. And they are not waiting for the return of moisture to surface. Quite the opposite, in fact.

My hair, once slightly curly and soft, is now straight, save for when my head is near any surface. Lo, when it passes by a surface, I resemble nothing more than a Gorgon, kin of Medusa, the snake haired woman beasts, for my hair strains with static to reach that surface. I have considered making little tiny eyeballs for many individuals hairs so that, if I cannot have nice hair, I can have hair that frightens children. More so than usual, I mean.

My lips, never luscious or full, are parched, no matter how much water I drink. I drink a lot of water, to no avail. When I eat a meal, I sometimes feel a little ill when I consider that my food is occasionally seasoned, quite against my will, with lip flakes. Chapstick would be an effective balm and perhaps I will purchase some, maybe even tonight.

On the plus side, I have not sweat in a week.