Thirteen
It’s a skin day. I don’t write them down normally because they’re part of other things. Always part of other things. A friend says skin days happen when we run out of spoons. They’re the body saying we need to be less sick. I tend to agree with her.
When I get sick, my skin gets sick. If it’s not too bad and on my face, I can hide it under powder and do work as usual, the way I always do. I shove being sick into the background and keep on going. On days like that, I wear cotton and soft clothes.
And why haven’t I ever written this down? It’s a minor thing, I guess. No biggie compared with everything else. It can happen when I’m moving toward a good part of one of the cycles, or can plague me at a bad time, so it’s kinda an inconstant constant. And I can work with it. It isn’t a
