I hadn't been feeling quite right for a while - lots of headaches and tiredness. I may have mentioned it on here although I'm not one to make a fuss ('Hahahahahaahaaa!' - everyone who knows me.)
And I'd been trying to rock a deathly pallor with fire-engine-red hair - a combination that only works on Halloween, if I'm honest.
Oh - and I had this weird fluttery sensation running up and down my left arm which - since I keep my mobile in my left coat pocket - meant I spent a lot of time attempting to answer a phone which wasn't actually vibrating.
God, I'm such an old woman now, I could fill an entire post with symptoms and ailments (and I'd enjoy it too.) But the diagnosis that I'm a bit anaemic isn't dramatic enough to justify any more of my complaining.
The doctor sent me a text message to say I needed a course of B12 injections. Which surprised me, because I'd never been doctored by text before. It was quick and efficient and informal and made me think *old lady voice* 'Well, how modern we both are, doctor!'
Trouble was, it did not give me the chance to ask any questions. Such as... 'Might I have a bit of a reaction to this?' Or...'Might it in fact, make my entire skin explode?'
Hence the week spent in hiding.
Luckily I was given a giant woolly snood for Christmas and last week I fell more in love with it than ever. I'd advise anyone who ever has to go out and about with their face, neck and shoulders covered in calamine lotion, to invest in a snood. I like to imagine I looked a little like this...
Although, the reality was probably more...
Now that I come to think of it, I never visit the doctor without her saying something along the lines of...
'Ah, yes - it does sometimes happen that your body can reject this kind of treatment. I should probably have mentioned it before...'
'Now, I did make you aware that we'd be joined by a couple of students who'll be watching this procedure, didn't I?'
'Did you remember to take some ibuprofen before you came, because this can be a little...uncomfortable?'
No - no - no - you never mention any of this beforehand! I always have to find it out from the internet afterwards! When my skin has turned into fucking pizza - aaargh - aaargh - aaargh!
And then - oh, joy! - the sun came out. So I was able to wear my new chilli pepper sundress and sunglasses...
On that first day of sunshine, we went to the Rococo Gardens, which seems to be our go-to place whenever we're in need of a fun outing. And all the way there, we passed people on bicycles, people eating ice-creams, people tearing the covers off their barbeques! Shorts and T-shirts everywhere - even though it was still early March. I found out later that many of our friends had gone all the way to the seaside. English people are adorable!
We ate ice-creams too, and ran around in the maze. And no - I didn't take any photos, for obvious reasons.
Oh, all right then - here we are...
At first, when my skin broke out, I tried to be grown-up about it. 'No one will notice or care,' I said to myself (sternly) 'You are forty - and not all that much of an oil-painting anyway. And besides, you must present a positive attitude to your two sons who will be acne-covered teens one day.'
But by the end of the week, I was waking up, reaching for the mirror and going, 'Sob...sob...sob...'
Because I'd forgotten how horrible spots can be. Especially those deep under the skin lumps and bumps that itch and throb. I've got those forehead spots that feel like a headache...and those awkward spots on the bridge of my nose and behind my ears where my glasses sit...and those spots on my neck that just won't go ever! I'd forgotten how vile it is to be a teenager. No wonder they're all so grumpy!
I think it might be time for me to go and look at the news now. I seem to need reminding that people are living in warzones, fighting terrible illnesses or struggling against poverty. I really don't need a teenager's self-absorption. Not on top of all these spots!