This week has been a week of firsts for me. Shortly after waking up yesterday morning I was intrigued by a small group of protesters standing just beyond the gate of the music festival. Protesting Cornerstone Music Festival? Really? Upon encountering them, the most hostile one declared that I looked like a “whore,” was like all the other “sodomite lesbians” in here and that I “have the devil” in me.
…giving you a moment to process that information…
Rest assured that I will be blogging about that as soon as I get my hands on the (yes!) video footage.
Another first for me happened this morning: I was actually happier inside a porta potty than outside of it. Don’t be silly, not for the regular reasons. I stepped inside and basked in the relief of the sun not beating down on my already sunburned skin.
And it’s not that I intended to get sunburned. I suppose I could have applied more SPF, but I simply cannot get past that fact that this never happened so easily when I was a child! When did I go from having my dad’s Italian skin to my mom’s Irish skin? In vain I keep retesting the same waters.
You know that prickly skin feeling you get when you’ve probably been in the sun 30 seconds too long? You don’t necessarily look burned yet, but you’ve got that sinking feeling. No, the looking burned part happens a little while later. And you know that it’s happened because a random stranger will look at you, inhale sharply and get a pained expression on their face, like they’ve gotten a leg cramp or just saw the driver in front of them nearly miss a squirrel. Or maybe that’s just how people look at me when I’m burned.
So Brian graciously whisked me to WalMart for a little bit of AC relief. And it wasn’t until I stepped into their restroom that I looked into the mirror and made all those same faces at myself. Yowza. I am a rainbow of shades of tan and red right now.
I stepped out and looked at my husband who was waiting for me on a WalMart bench.
Me, “I. Look. Ridiculous. My body is red. My face is white. You know what I look like? I look like a pimple.”
Brian, never looking up from his phone, put his body into his quiet chuckle and simply said, “Yep. Yep, you do.”