Burn baby burn...

A line from "Disco Inferno" by The Trammps 1976

Today Mr Man has decided that he would like us to go out for dinner. I know, that’s so sweet isn’t it? And I should be so pleased especially as it means I won’t have to cook. But I have a huge burn on my face. Ok, it’s not huge, but it is horrendous looking. And there ain't no makeup on this earth that's gonna hide this. It’s all scabby at the side of my mouth where my skin fell off, and people will think that he’s been hitting me again. Hahaha, that “again” bit is a joke. I couldn’t have wished for a milder bloke. In fact when I shout at him I have to look away because he just laughs and it makes me laugh as well. It’s very difficult to stay angry at him.

So anyway, this burn… It was a couple of nights ago. I really was so tired that I fell asleep in the chair – virtually unheard of. I sleep a lot, but never in the chair. So it was microwave dinners all round that night. Mr Man opted for his usual curry, and I had a lasagne. He worries so much about me when I’m in the kitchen, so as I took the piping hot food out of the microwave he warned “Be careful”, “I’m being careful” came my usual reply.

You’re probably wondering how on earth I managed to burn my face with it. Well, as I scooped the lasagne out of the dish and onto my plate, some of the sauce spilled out onto my finger. It was so hot, and my immediate reaction was to lick it off quickly. Somehow I managed to flick this piping hot sauce onto my face and burn my skin off. Nice.

The funny thing is that it was the burn on my finger that seemed to hurt the most, even though I wasn’t even left with a blister. The burn on my face was sore, but I hardly noticed it as I’ve been so used to feeling soreness on my face for the past 10 years, due to an allergy that has only just been brought under control. My friend was shocked when she saw my burn and I told her that it’s no sorer than my nettle rash used to be. She said “Really? That just looked like spots” – yes, I used to get that a lot from people, which was rather irritating.

So there you are. That’s the story of my burn. I’m sure I won’t be scarred for life but I can assure you that lasagne will be off the menu for a while. I’ll let you know if I get any well meaning do-gooders take me to one side to ask me what happened. Oh, that reminds me of the time I had to go to school with a black eye…