And I'm not just talking about smooching and snogging. The mouth truly is an incredible team player - it indicates an uplifted mood more than any other body part. Try having "happy eyes" without smiling. You can't do it. (I guesstimate that 87% of you actually tried it.) Frustration, sadness, fatigue and anger can all be indicated with merely your eyes; girls can have whole conversations with them. But the MOUTH is the key ingredient to professing contentment and joy in general.
I know what I'm talking about it. Mine recently became ill.
Cold sores, people. COLD. SORES. (I was going to post a picture of my hideousness, but decided that wouldn't help my statcounter go up.)
I have two massive scabby secretions smack dab in the middle of my lower lip. I feel like I might as well have a balloon there. One of those big shiny helium numbers with, "Hi! I'm contaminated!" printed on it. I'm a plague.
It is hard to look people in the eye. Not because I feel dirty (though that definitely plays a role), but because I can't smile. I walk around looking either stoned or pissed off. When greeting someone these past few days, I immediately apologize for my apparent lack of interest, pointing to my cold sore self-deprecatingly. But I can't giggle about it. I can't give an apologetic grin. I have to sort of purse my lips and convey "happy eyes! happy eyes!" as much as possible. It usually doesn't go over that well. I think they are aptly named 'cold sores' because they transform you into an unsmiling piece of ice.
The very essence of my daily routine has been sapped dry. Playing Good Guys/Bad Guys with the kids today, I was always cast as the bad guy. Who's ever heard of a plucky hero with a permanent scowl on his face? After dinner the fam had a round of the game "Taboo." It was impossible to show the proper amount of enthusiasm when every time the corner of my lips started to turn up, I was awarded a shooting, burning sensation in the labial area.
In addition to becoming a social pariah, the biggest hardship of all is not being able to kiss my kids. I think I must kiss Da Boyz exactly 89756423186 times a day, since that is how many times I've had to stop myself. I can't nuzzle the inside of Mr. Squishy's neck. I can't plant a big wet one on the top of Little Prince's head when I'm tucking him in for the night. I can't bestow a Magical Mommy Kiss on Ouro Branco's most recent bonk on the head. Maybe it's just as well My Man isn't here, because I would not be able to restrain myself from attacking him, and then he would have to suffer as well.
Abreva! Work faster, I implore you!