We are grown-ups.
Eric and I now have yearly appointments to a dermatologist.
Being pale and freckled, I started going two years ago.
With weekends at the lake, visits to Gulf Shores, Ocean City, hanging at the pool and maybe even a few tanning beds (like maybe once before prom...ok twice...seven times....) I've collected plenty of sunburns in my portfolio of skin damage.
I stopped sunning ages ago, slap on the SPF and am as pale as the piles of snow we are still digging out of. I've tried to learn to embrace my paleness. But those rays from bygone days are catching up with me. So much so I had to have a few freckles removed. While they weren't unsightly, they were something to catch early.
But did it have to be Valentine’s Day weekend?
So for our romantic dinner that same night, we made reservations for three: Eric, Me and the band-aid slapped across my face.
And I'm not sure if it was the sheer thrill of being able to go to a restaurant that didn't have a kid menu, or the fact that Tulsa has begun to thaw, but I was giddy and emboldened to tattoo my blemish suitable for the holiday.
However, during Eric's first appointment I think he was giddy about being covered only by one of those ridiculous paper towels they provide you with. So much so, he immediately texted me a photo.
You know ... to get the Valentine's Day romance started.