I went to a free skin consultant at Clinique once. The baby -faced, pimple-free skin expert informed me that I had “combination skin”. But… I…knew…that… I’ve known that for years because come morning, the sides of my nose have enough oil to deep fry chicken but other parts of my face are flaky dry. Thus… “combination” …
Today, I woke up and wiped the “T-zone” only to find the wiping agent (my hand), was left with a fine sheen of grease (I’m not fancy enough for tissues and the likes). Mmmm. Hours later I was informed of the dry skin on my nose. (The “under-nose”… as in, it’s still my nose but the underside of it, like the bridge between my nostrils… you know what I mean, you’ve got it too.)
“Oh yeah, I’ll put some lotion on it,” I said with full intentions of doing so. But on my way to the office I found myself playing with the underside and feeling hardened dry skin begging to be picked at. So I complied.
Walking down a busy part of Kathmandu, lost in thought, half minding the traffic, fingers busy in the nasal region – I was a happy little honey bee.
I got to work, sat down and after a while noticed that my hand has found its way back to my under-nose and was rather busy with the scratching, scraping, pulling, and peeling of dry skin. (What is it about picking at scabs and peeling dry skin that is utter *bliss*?)
Then it dawned on me… I must have totally looked like I was picking my nose. Not that there is anything wrong with that…. I am daily a witness to people with fingers on serious excursions up their nostrils, I just feel like nose picking is something to be saved for bathroom time, family and close friends.
Realizing I must have looked odd, I did what any sensible 21st century girl would do and pulled out my hand mirror. I was met with a reflection of scraps of peeling skin roughening my otherwise smooth under-nose (… and a hairy reminder on my upper lip about that visit to the beauty parlor I’ve been meaning to make).
The half-peeled thing I had going on looked pretty unattractive, so, mirror in hand I set my finger nails into tweezers mode to catch flaps of dead epidermis. A final glance would show a job well done… except now my nose is tinged in red and a little sore…
I would dwell on this except I found churpi in my pocket and that makes me happy. Also, please don’t ask why, of the millions of thoughts I have per day, THIS is what makes it on here. Not sure if I needed a segue to how finding churpi made me happy or… I don’t know.
Leave me alone.