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One of the first things the Husband said to me today when he got home from work was, “What’s that on your face? You’ve got yellow on your forehead.” I love it when he talks all romantic like that.
I am no stranger to mysterious things on my face. It seems as though having offspring is synonymous with having odd unidentifiable substances (OUS) somewhere on my being. So I shrugged off the Husband’s observation. Just another day in the life of moi.
Then later, I happened to cross paths with a mirror and there it was. Something yellow. Right on my face. I couldn’t imagine what it was. I tried to rub it off, but this made it worse. It was now a florescent yellow streaked all over my forehead and my cheek (not that cheek sicky). Some radioactive highlighter? No. I hadn’t used a highlighter (that I could recall). The new brown eyebrow pencil I bought, that for some reason mutates into yellow when in contact with my seemingly special skin? No. I hadn’t put eyeliner on my forehead (that I could recall).
I went through all the things in my house that had a similar color. Banana. Lemon. Tissue paper. Corn. It would be mildly humorous if I told you I rubbed all of these things on my face to see if any were the culprit. I didn’t do that though. Who do you think I am?
Then I saw it. These beauties.
I bought them for myself the other day. I’m not the only one who buys flowers for themselves am I? Anyway, that’s when I remembered that I had stopped to arrange them in a more pleasing manner. I also took a big whiff. Here’s a reenactment . . .
See how close I got to those pollen packed stamen? (Do you like my horticultural lingo? I googled it just for you). And of course how could you miss the obvious transference of pollen to my face? Not my best look. Yellow never seems to suit me. Pity really. But did you know that yellow pollen is stubborn and will not come off of skin until scrubbed away, and I do mean scrubbed? Well now you know.
So this is what I get for stopping to smell the flowers.
I refuse to be bitter about it though. The flowers were innocent in all of this. It’s not like they were seeking revenge for all the plants I’ve killed in the past. That’s just silly.
6 comments:
Good thing you weren't sniffing poison oak.
Mystery solved....gorgeous flowers, I sometimes buy them for myself too, since nobody else does! And the best part is that they are supposed to die, so I can't be accused of killing them!
Just as a useful piece of information (cause I like being useful from time to time) if you pull those stamen off, the flowers will live longer. And you won't have a yellow head.
Kristina-Who would do something like that? Surely not me.
Sherri-Exactly. However, I still feel sad when they do die.
Keri- Are you kidding me?! How have I never heard such pertinent information? Thank you.
I buy myself flowers, especially on our anniversary. Clint bought them for me more frequently in Utah because he could get Gladiolus by the stem at Smith's. But I'd be happy if he bought me some bulbs and I could grow my own.
You ARE hilarious! :) Thanks for bringing me a smile on my face.
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