In the last few years, a very strange thing has happened to me on several occasions. Similar events always lead to this occurrence - it takes place the second or third day after I've been in the sun on the Gulf Coast. A few sun-drenched days at the beach and I'll wake up one morning with a face that belongs on the cover of US Weekly - darkened to a nice deep shade of tan; occasionally, like this year, with unfortunate raccoon eyes left from my sunglasses.
But the highlight, the real money shot for the paparazzi, hearkening the caption, "has she had cosmetic surgery?" lies in the new shape of my lips. I look like I've been punched right in the kisser. Let's face it, I look like a bad actress who's gone to a cheap cosmetic surgeon for a lip injection. My bottom lip has blown up to triple it's natural size.
I've spent hours in the sun elsewhere, but this sunburn has only happened in the South. A little ice and time in the shade tends to relieve the symptom. Oh, but if I could bottle the cause, then I would really be just like they, in the best way, their bank accounts.
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