A face that betrays me


My friends and colleagues love it – I’m one of those unfortunate souls who, despite my best efforts, has a  complexion that is no mask for my emotions. Naturally, people like to take advantage of this in jest (much to my dismay).

I have a habit of allowing my mouth to work faster than my brain, and consequently, I do tend to say some ridiculous and nauseatingly embarrassing things. No sooner have the words escaped my lips, than I feel that all too familiar prickling, warm sensation of the blood rushing up my neck and into my cheeks. Before you know it, I’ve turned a fantastic shade of crimson and I start babbling, grasping to find the words to drag myself out of the hole I’ve dug for myself, which I am, in fact, only digging deeper at this point.

To make matters worse, I’ve recently dyed my hair a washed out pastel pink, so whenever I blush, my whole head from the neck up turns one mortifying colour. I think I’m going to start carrying a pink sheet around with me, so that when I talk myself into a knot, I can just put it around my body and blend in like a chameleon, and melt into the background.

One last thought: I would SUCK at poker.

Have a great day!


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