I'm just going to share what I think will be helpful for some...from a group of us that prefer to be called "Rosy."
When us pale kids become really, really "Rosy"...like not in a cute "blushed" way, but in an almost purple way, you can rest assure from this day forward, that we KNOW about it before YOU tell us. You don't have to tell us. I mean, you can't possibly think we don't notice we have turned from white to crimson in a matter of seconds.
I personally have the following harsh rebuttal prepared for just the right day when my beat red Ora gets me so riled up I respond to such obvious information with: "Are ya kidding me?! Of COURSE I know I'm red. I could fry an egg on these cheeks! Now stop drawing more damn attention to them!!" It's good right?
This prepped work of art would've been super appropriate last week. Appropriate if I wanted to be fired of course, no pun intended. After the most frustrating and circular phone conversation with a dense (for lack of better post-appropriate word) student, my beastly glow took over my (and everyone Else's) Friday afternoon.
In a conversation like this one, where the point of statements like, "Like I explained THIRTY minutes ago..." have been reached, I am WELL AWARE that my face...and neck...and ears are all extremely red, and hot, and maybe even a little itchy. I maaaay have snootily whispered into the phone, "You might want to write this down as I say it for the last time..." but I can't recall. Hm.
Long story short, please don't tell us we're red, I promise you it's all we're thinking about already and we surprisingly don't care to explore the possibilities of its source, diagnosis etc. After 20 "some" years, we've been there, done that. We learned reeaal quick that drinking wine, chasing a soccer ball down a field and getting embarrassed ALL have the same outcome for us. Which is why we try our hardest to only involve ourselves in one of those ;)
There, now you've learned something new.
Any time.
When us pale kids become really, really "Rosy"...like not in a cute "blushed" way, but in an almost purple way, you can rest assure from this day forward, that we KNOW about it before YOU tell us. You don't have to tell us. I mean, you can't possibly think we don't notice we have turned from white to crimson in a matter of seconds.
I personally have the following harsh rebuttal prepared for just the right day when my beat red Ora gets me so riled up I respond to such obvious information with: "Are ya kidding me?! Of COURSE I know I'm red. I could fry an egg on these cheeks! Now stop drawing more damn attention to them!!" It's good right?
This prepped work of art would've been super appropriate last week. Appropriate if I wanted to be fired of course, no pun intended. After the most frustrating and circular phone conversation with a dense (for lack of better post-appropriate word) student, my beastly glow took over my (and everyone Else's) Friday afternoon.
In a conversation like this one, where the point of statements like, "Like I explained THIRTY minutes ago..." have been reached, I am WELL AWARE that my face...and neck...and ears are all extremely red, and hot, and maybe even a little itchy. I maaaay have snootily whispered into the phone, "You might want to write this down as I say it for the last time..." but I can't recall. Hm.
Long story short, please don't tell us we're red, I promise you it's all we're thinking about already and we surprisingly don't care to explore the possibilities of its source, diagnosis etc. After 20 "some" years, we've been there, done that. We learned reeaal quick that drinking wine, chasing a soccer ball down a field and getting embarrassed ALL have the same outcome for us. Which is why we try our hardest to only involve ourselves in one of those ;)
There, now you've learned something new.
Any time.
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