The Masque Kiss
The closer I get to 30, the more vain I get about my skin. In my reckless youth, I slept with my makeup on, rarely moisturized and committed the worst sin of all by never wearing sunscreen. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now that I am older and wiser, I am attempting to reverse the aging process by religiously exfoliating, cleansing, toning and moisturizing. I also do a lot of face masques. You know the kind; they're usually a visual gag on TV.
Anyway, I try to do at least one per day. If Tyler happens to see me in one of these masques, usually in the morning, he will be momentarily taken aback, but then he will kiss me. It's the sweetest little kiss, with his lips pursed tightly so he doesn't get any gross goop on his face. I appreciate it every time. It shows me that he still finds me attractive even though I have a green or blue or white face. (This type of kiss will also occur if I happen to have a glob of acne medication on, which is more appreciated.) It's good to know that he thinks I'm beautiful no matter what.
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