I live in the Midwest, which means that it’s peel-your-face-off cold today. If I go outside, I’m pretty sure it will be like that scene from “Raiders of the Lost Ark” when all the Nazis melt. Except it will be me, melting somewhat from the cold but mostly from the vaporized wrath of all the parents whose kids are home because schools are closed.
So, I’m wearing fleece this and ancient crappy sweater that, and am refusing to leave the house. I’m a hearty Iowan and all, but part of being hearty is knowing when to keep your ass in your damned house.
Today, the day when it’s so cold that the world is pretty much shut down, is the day that I discovered a sun spot on my hand.
The spot wasn’t there yesterday. And today it’s all, “Oh, heyyy. I’m spotty and I’m here to stay!”
Thanks to our pal Google, I know that it’s not officially a “sun spot,” but is conveniently referred to as an “age spot.” Because it means you’re old. Back in the day, it was called a “liver spot.” Because old people love to eat liver. Because being old means losing all taste.
Google says age / liver spots are caused by sun. Which is all the more annoying because THE HIGH TODAY IS 3 DEGREES. I could not possibly be any farther from a sun worshipper today. Or any day, really. In the summer, you’ll know me by my SPF 75. You know, the pale girl in the shade? No, I’m not an apparition. That’s my skin. Yes, I guess I will be easier to find now that I have this dark liver spot on my hand. It can act as a beacon. A beacon for the AARP membership asks and coupons to the early-bird buffet.
Can we just agree that it’s woefully unfair to be freezing your ass off when you discover a sun-related age spot? Please? I don’t ask for much – just a tiny bit of rationality as I ease into my decrepitude.