Have been experiencing some sort of health thing which has resulted in a minor range of inconvenient issues, the most recent of which appears to be a corporeal manifestation of my imaginary beard.
“I have a beard,” I said last night.
“No, you don’t. You look fine.”
“I am not complaining so that you can tell me I’m cute, I am just making note of it. My peach fuzz seems fuller and more luxuriant, in a beardy-type shape.”
“Oh. Well, that’s no good.”
“And my lip is still puffy.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“The Internet says it’s harmless and temporary. So it’s probably a tumor.”
“Probably.”
“They’ll have to remove my lips.”
“Well, at least you’ll still have your beard.”
Well, that’s nice.
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