Peeling It Off

When I was a kid (or, two weeks ago), I loved putting school glue all over my hands and letting it dry and peeling it off. I know this is borderline mental, but hear me out: first, it was an excellent waste of what always seemed to be an excessive amount of glue in the house; second, I could do nothing but wait while the glue dried (Lord forbid I touch anything); third, I just love the feeling of that thick skin coming off my palms and fingers, letting my skin breathe like it's brand new.

I guess grownups have their own methods of peeling. In Florida, it's called the "absence of suntan lotion". Hubby and I also experienced this recently. He decided not to put lotion on; I got every part that I could reach, which does not include the center of my back (I swear I used to be more flexible). This week, though, we both are experiencing the adult version of peeling - the ugly gross skin coming off at embarrassing moments, like we have some kind of body dandruff.

The moral of the story: I want to peel it off. The day, the week, the month. It was partially good - just like old skin is partially good. But so is that glue that just sticks and oozes and makes us wait for the clean, refreshing, new skin.

Peel it off.