So today you are totally fascinating to me.
This weekend I (rudely) left you out in the sun far longer than the 10 minutes that it takes you to burn. Consequently, you turned a wonderful shade of pink. Actually, judging by the level of pain you caused me, I thought I had actually blistered you right up.
I'm truly sorry about that.
Today you have begun to flake off in huge, disgusting, leprosy-like flakes and as much as I know I should be embarrassed by you I am secretly very intrigued. I've never noticed your personal flare with peeling. You are so unlike my arms, legs and nose when you peel. When they peel it comes off in long, thin, silk-like layers. You, on the other hand, peel off in deep, thick, angry chunks. Chunks that stick in my hair and give the impression of poor hygiene habits. Picking bits of you out of my hair gives me a sick kind of pleasure that I should try to hide but refuse to.
Right now you are so itchy that I wish I could just spend the rest of the afternoon in front of a mirror getting every little bit out.
But I won't.
I'll save that for tomorrow.