Do freckles hurt?
It was an outing, much like any other outing. We had randomly decided to head out and get something to eat. Red Lobster was what tickled our fancy for that night, so off we went to try les fruits des mer (fruits of the sea). Upon reaching our more than palatable destination we realized that we were the victims of the weekend seafood frenzy, which meant that waiting was our punishment.
I par-oozed the grounds, searching for anything that would rest my feeble knees, which were now shaking with the most terrifying pains of hunger. Using my wit and suavity, I found a lovely boulder for my fruitful wife to sit upon. As for myself, I lay in the grass staring at my beautiful wife.
My wife looked at me curiously, as she often does, but this time I didn't recall doing anything too absurd so I replied with my own contorted visage. "What besets you madame?", sun blazing in my eyes.
"I'm befuddled with thoughts right now"
"hows that?"
"no, no, you'll think me a silly school girl if I say it"
"Auds fish Madame, just say it!...please."
"Well I was wondering...."
"Yes, Go on.. and be quick about it! They will come out at anytime and Im starving"
"Well do your freckles hurt?"
At this point my right eyebrow began to raise uncontrollably in the most quizzical manner imaginable. Comparing the two brows in scale, would have been like comparing the Death Valley to MT McKinley. So I sat there astonished my wife would ask such a thing. And yes she began laughing hysterically, and yes I did think her a silly school girl in that moment.
I reminisced back on my days in Africa, where my freckles were often the source of much rumor and sometimes even the making of legends. Yes, there were those who thought they came from the incessant biting of fleas when I was a child. But there was also a legend of an African who spoke Swahili but had lost much of the pigment of his skin while rolling down the white peaks of Mt Kilamanjaro. There was a mystic and unique quality that was once associated with those black and brown dots on my face.
I consoled myself with my boyhood experience of having an Apostle of the Lord tell me that those freckles made me look tough. This offset all of the ridiculous notions that they made me look cute. Cute? What a nasty word for a boy to hear! Handsome, rough, rugged, maybe... but cute? NEVER! I disregarded all of the other opinions as unfounded and uninspired as they went against the very words of a man of God.
My wife was testing the waters and she knew it. If she didn't then, she did when I answered her questions with a query of my own "does your hair hurt you Jenn, I mean.. I look at it sometimes and it is just so bent out of shape and curled, it must be frightfully uncomfortable for each hair to be so scrunched up like that, right?"
She knew where this was going and ultimately my case was won. So the moral of the story is that freckles don't hurt unless you are Jenn and you try and rub them off when you are young and naive. Then you may find a good chunk of your snout missing.
I par-oozed the grounds, searching for anything that would rest my feeble knees, which were now shaking with the most terrifying pains of hunger. Using my wit and suavity, I found a lovely boulder for my fruitful wife to sit upon. As for myself, I lay in the grass staring at my beautiful wife.
My wife looked at me curiously, as she often does, but this time I didn't recall doing anything too absurd so I replied with my own contorted visage. "What besets you madame?", sun blazing in my eyes.
"I'm befuddled with thoughts right now"
"hows that?"
"no, no, you'll think me a silly school girl if I say it"
"Auds fish Madame, just say it!...please."
"Well I was wondering...."
"Yes, Go on.. and be quick about it! They will come out at anytime and Im starving"
"Well do your freckles hurt?"
At this point my right eyebrow began to raise uncontrollably in the most quizzical manner imaginable. Comparing the two brows in scale, would have been like comparing the Death Valley to MT McKinley. So I sat there astonished my wife would ask such a thing. And yes she began laughing hysterically, and yes I did think her a silly school girl in that moment.
I reminisced back on my days in Africa, where my freckles were often the source of much rumor and sometimes even the making of legends. Yes, there were those who thought they came from the incessant biting of fleas when I was a child. But there was also a legend of an African who spoke Swahili but had lost much of the pigment of his skin while rolling down the white peaks of Mt Kilamanjaro. There was a mystic and unique quality that was once associated with those black and brown dots on my face.
I consoled myself with my boyhood experience of having an Apostle of the Lord tell me that those freckles made me look tough. This offset all of the ridiculous notions that they made me look cute. Cute? What a nasty word for a boy to hear! Handsome, rough, rugged, maybe... but cute? NEVER! I disregarded all of the other opinions as unfounded and uninspired as they went against the very words of a man of God.
My wife was testing the waters and she knew it. If she didn't then, she did when I answered her questions with a query of my own "does your hair hurt you Jenn, I mean.. I look at it sometimes and it is just so bent out of shape and curled, it must be frightfully uncomfortable for each hair to be so scrunched up like that, right?"
She knew where this was going and ultimately my case was won. So the moral of the story is that freckles don't hurt unless you are Jenn and you try and rub them off when you are young and naive. Then you may find a good chunk of your snout missing.
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