Welcome to Day 6 of my cold turkey endeavor to beat chapstick. FOR GOOD.
Ten years ago, a dermatologist said, “For the love of God, stop using that stuff now!” and I was like “Okay” but then continued my wayward ways, obsessively gumming up my lips with one brand after another, the original black Chapstick chapstick, Burt’s Bees, Trader Joe’s Virtuoso, that egg thing that is apparently trending with high school girls according to my brother. My addiction ran deep: for more than a decade, I applied the stuff approximately once every five or ten minutes except for while sleeping of course, though it was always within arm’s reach, sometimes under my pillow. I had various chapsticks squirreled away in pockets, purses, backpacks, desks, lockers, drawers. I broke Quinn’s nose once in a chapstick-related scuffle. It got nasty.
Then, six days ago, Dr. Matt Chabot the Dog said, “You should really stop” and I said, “Okay”, and meant it.
It’s not been pretty.
~~WARNING: THIS IS A GROSS PHOTO IF YOU ARE NOT INTO GROSS THINGS THEN DISCONTINUE READING OR JUST SKIP AHEAD TO THE CATS~~
It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s the light, really.
So, while I am waiting for my body to recover, I am hitting the olive oil a couple times a day, just to keep the mouth parts moving, and I am trying to divert my frantic attention to other tasks, perhaps… CATS?
This will be an even greater outlet than ever imagined.
Some cats I have found.
Quinn/Will/Kat’s Apartment, Bushwick, Brooklyn
Bodega, Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn
Where We Live, Crown Heights, Brooklyn
Jake’s reading partner.