Hickeys

This morning I stumbled out of bed, already behind schedule. I had a headache, my body hurt and for some reason, I've only gotten four hours of sleep in the past few days, so I felt like shit. Meghan (my roommate) was in the bathroom and all I could think about was smoking a cigarette. I painfully made my way to the living room, grabbed a Parliament, lit up, inhaled like it was my last cigarette and looked up at the full-length mirror...Smoke and the words, "what the fuck?!" came tumbling out of my mouth. I gasped and examined further, mouth agape with horror at the fucking state of my fucking neck.

One side had this tiny hickey, the kind I'm used to but the other side...Oh my God, the other side was covered and still is. Hickeys have never bothered me that much and this is the first time since coming to college that I've reacted so strongly and not so much for what it is, just how much of my neck they're taking up.

After the initial shock, Meghan's pointing and laughing and a body search to make sure there were no more, I got over it. It's winter, so it's easily concealed and it's comparable to wearing thigh-highs or sexy lingerie on a blah-day; it's my risque little secret I'll reveal to few (namely, the mail room guy) but other people will get a glimpse and wonder "what did she do last night?". Oh, the intrigue of the sexy new intern...

Still, I think back to my first reaction, which was shouting, "Are we in eighth grade again?!" Like I said, I haven't reacted like this to a hickey since college and thinking about it now, I actually mean, since I turned fourteen. I don't remember much of that hickey-phase, but I do remember giving them, getting a lot of them and never really seeing the point. And with the blessing of time, the point fades further into obscurity. I vaguely remember asking a guy I made out with why he decided it would be fun to bruise my neck and he stared blankly at me before responding, "Well, how else will people know I was there?"

Hate it...and at the same time,
Love it.