When Saturday's Hickey Shows Up On My 52-Year-Old Sunday Neck


When people say, "You'll laugh at this one day," they're usually right. I can't believe how many things in my life I thought were utter tragedies at the time they occurred, that I eventually found humorous. I stress the word eventually, because it's hard to laugh when you are still cringing...

Last Sunday morning, while my husband and I were sipping our coffee, he looked at me with an odd and somewhat quizzical expression...

Husband --"What's that on your neck?"
Me -- "What?"
Husband -- "Turn your head to the side"
Me -- "What?
Husband -- "Whoa ... My bad"
Me -- "What?"

I got up, looked in the mirror, tilted my head to the right and there's a mark on my neck, front and center, roughly the size and shape of Wisconsin. I begin to freak out, in exactly the way that ALL 52-YEAR-OLD WOMEN DO WHEN THEY FIND A SATURDAY-NIGHT HICKEY ON THEIR SUNDAY-MORNING NECK!!!!

"Oh. My. GOD!!" I screamed.
"I can't go to church or anywhere else today!! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GGGOOOODDDD"

Now, over the course of this 34+ year relationship, suffice it to say that this isn't the first crisis my husband and I have faced together. (In fact, we started dating at 18, so it's actually not even the first hickey we've faced down together.) Through the years, this man has come to pride himself on always knowing just what to say to calm me down in any given situation:

"Relax," says The Wife-Whisperer, "At your age, no one will even suspect it's a hickey, they'll just think it's a Liver Spot!!"

Concerned by my hostile reaction to that remark, he went a different direction ... "You need to get up and start your day, moving around will get the blood flowing and it'll fade," (He must've made that up on the spot, as it's certainly not true...)

"I'm sooooo embarrassed," I wailed, totally tapping into my inner Drama Queen.

"Why are you making such a big deal ? Anyone who notices it will just know we are still in love..." said The-Man-Whose-Love-Life-Is-On-The-Line.

"You LITERALLY suck!" I replied.

Aware that, in addition to being what my mother would refer to as a "Hussy," I had also taken the Lord's name in vain four times and it wasn't even 8 a.m.; I resigned myself to going to church. When it was time to get ready, I swept all of my hair into a massively thick curly/frizzy side-ponytail that more or less obscured the mark.

"Hey -- I love your hair that way!" exclaimed Lover Boy, a little overzealously.

We arrived for church late and left early. Afterwards, before we head home, we decided to run a couple of errands. We were walking into the grocery store, when, predictably, we ran into one of my close friends. We hug in greeting and, as she hugs me, she whispers discreetly in my ear, "I don't know if you know this or not, but you have a HUGE HICKEY on your neck."

"I am more than aware," I assure her.

It's been four days now, and I've spent a ton of time and money caking pounds of makeup on my neck, in a desperate and futile effort to preserve my tarnished reputation -- which is rather pointless, because what's left of my reputation, will be ruined the minute I publish this post.

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