An English In Kentucky



















December 22nd 2009

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    I am in that sad category of red and blotchy English.  Some frailty of breeding generations ago gave me pinkness, so not for me the beautiful black or bronze skin that relishes sunshine.  

    But apparently there is a chemical that strips away damaged skin.  And it is this chemical which if applied twice a day for three weeks will return my hands to a condition that does not cause others to think me leprotic. 

    The chemical comes in a green bottle, it has few instructions and tomorrow morning will be the first of forty two applications of chemical to the backs of my hands and wrists.  I need cotton swabs and oddly my hands will begin to feel as though they are sunburned.




    I understand that this circumstance is a "come hither" from the medical profession.  I see it clearly as that first step into the abyss.  I have watched the white coats lift their clipboards and place a question mark beside my name.

    So, in a month or so when I reach a pretty pink hand across to take a receipt at the grocery store, and if I am greeted with a smile, I will sense decline, and I will understand temptation because when Eve promised Adam an apple she wore a stethoscope.

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tim candler

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