I woke up the morning after my one-nighter with Putty with the world’s worst chin burn. In the throes of drunken passion, Putty’s 11-pm shadow ripped up my face.
The pin-thin deep red lines were raw and sticky with (hopefully, only) pus.
Until chin burn, I thought hickeys were the only Scarlet Letter that signaled what you were up to the night before.
I had to wear my hair down for my junior prom because I had four on my neck (not from my prom date by the way). My mom was furious the gentleman had “marked his territory.”
I was thrilled she directed her anger and disappointment at him and not me.
I spent years trying different DIY hickey remedies.
The least successful? Visine Eye Drops. I had even ponied up for the extra-strength.
My go-to solution? Black, ribbed turtlenecks. This worked well since Burr College has snow 11/12 months of the year.
But this was my chin. There was no way of covering it up, and the timing couldn’t have been worse.
My Dad was coming to visit.
