Whilst on our grand end-of-2010 tour of Europe and the Middle East, two of my four sisters, along with my mom, contracted cold sores. They're obnoxious, festering, and ugly (the sores, not the sisters). They're contagious as [insert uncomfortable and embarrassing disease of your choice here]. They're also impossible to cure, though there is a vaccine for the fortunately unaffected, which I strongly recommend. I italicized that adverb, so you best be listening to me.
Then, less than 48-hours of leaving my family for Provo, I noticed a small bump under my left nostril. Weird. Suspiciously pre-cold-sore-y. But, I mean, my nose hole? Unlikely.
Oh holy Hannah, the next day was horrible. I had a huge long blister, or series of blisters I suppose, under that same left nostril. Another little blister mocked me from the right edge of my bottom lip. Throughout the next two days, a twin blister spread under my right nostril, making me a mouth-breathing monster. The kicker: the cold sores erupted on the first day of my new job. Oh, rapture. Hello, magazine industry, behold thy newest intern. On second thought, don't look at her, she's hideous.
What I find most ironic is that on my first day, HR wanted my photo for a new ID. This in itself isn't ironic; it's normal at a new job. The kicker is that for the last two photos taken for my BYU ID, I also had, you guessed it, cold sores.
So, you know, the universe shines on all creatures, including its most pathetic, namely me. But life rolls on, and I'm a happy girl at my internship and in my personal life. (Hint: boy.)
