The new scar on my face has settled into a thin long streak of red, mostly covered by layers of sunblock and makeup. It is currently in that itchy phase of healing that I have always loathed. Pain never bothers me. This prickly throbbing is maddening.
The doctor said that the scar would fold into my laugh line; it would be more accurate to say that it created one. Byron claims he can’t see it but platitudes are part of the job description of spouse.
The fourteen year old is a much better resource. I asked Does the scar make me look like I’ve aged years?
She squinted at me and replied Only on half of your face.
At least I find the whole thing amusing. It would be terrible if I actually cared about my appearance.