Spring Cleaning Continued

I've inhaled more dust than can possibly be measured. I've been hacking like a cat with a hairball. My eyes and nose are red. I look gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.

You'll soon be seeing models cultivating this look. They'll call it Allergy Chic. People will buy special pencils to draw on little red capillaries on the sides of their noses. Eyes will be lined with red liner. People will carry atomizers to spray their eyes just to get that teary, sneeezy look.

I am starting a trend. I am such a rockstar.

My frizzy, flyaway hair? It will be much coveted. The sprinklings of dust and assorted fuzzies-- god knows where those came from-- are mini accessories. Almost like stars in a night sky. Except dusty and fuzzy and not sparkly at all. This scrunchy I used to pull back my hair? Not at all early '90s. It's so trendy it hurts.

I'm so cool. I should be worshipped.

We won't even get into my dry hands and ragged nails. Nor the chipped polish or the wrecked cuticles. I know, I know.. It's too much to take. Forget the beauty of a sunset when there's me around. I'm simply breathtaking.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

Or hacked in your face. Sorry about that.