Dear God. It's back.
Every year I hope it won't show, and every year my hopes are squished by an insidious onset of the condition I call Freckle-stache.
I don't mind freckles per se. Freckles are cute. But there is nothing, nothing less cute when the damn things organize to form patterns. NOTHING.
All it took was one day of forgetting to apply sunblock to my 'stache-susceptible upper lip. That was it. The summer-long cosmetic battle has begun. Below is an exaggerated (for now) depiction of my freckle-stache:
I don't know which is more embarrassing: Looking like I have a moustache, or the appearance of a dirty lip.
either way . . .