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I have a black face.
(Publish Date: 2009-5-8 11:50am, Total Visits: 444, Today: 1, This Week: 1, This Month: 1)

I have a black face.    

Under the kind advice of a family friend, who is a dermatologist, I did the laser treatment for free, which he said would smooth and lighten my facial skin.

In order to become beautiful, I bravely did the treatment and naively thought the eschar on my face might have fallen off before Monday. I thought I could recover in four days. I went to the dermatologist’s clinic on Thursday night. The next day, Friday, I didn’t have to go to school because there was a food fair at school. Then I thought probably on Monday, it might be ok for me to put on makeup to cover my dark face. Under the laser treatment, the nurse didn’t apply any anesthetic on my face, nor did I feel any pain while the doctor was shooting the laser ray. However, after that, my whole face pricked and turned red and swollen while I was using two bags of ice the nurse gave to me to soothe the pain on my cheeks.

Due to this treatment, I had hidden myself at home for three days. On Sunday night, looking in the mirror at my face, which was covered with black crusts, I was worried about how to go to school with such a terrible-looking face. Standing in front of the mirror, I tried all kinds of ways to cover my face, including using the mask, putting on some scream and brushing my long hair forward. However, it looked even weirder and attracted attention to wear a mask to school. I thought I could say I had a cold and then insisted on never taking it off. But my husband was totally against this idea. He said that it would only attract more attention.

On Monday morning, I spent one hour wearing makeup and finally succeeded in covering up my crusted face with thick skin-colored cream. I went downstairs, walked toward my husband and asked him if he could see anything. He looked at me and said, “Oh, Great! It’s perfect. You can go to school now. No one can see the black crusts.” Hearing his words, I happily drove to school.

When I walked into the office, all coworkers were busy doing their work and no one noticed me. I tried hard to calm down and did my own business as usual. I was happy. It seemed no one found out my secret.

When I walked into Room 201, Lauren stared at me with weird looks because she sat in the front row just in front of me. She whispered, “Teacher, what’s wrong with your face?” I was shocked to hear her voice and then I kept calm and whispered back, “Hush! Don’t ask me.” She was such a considerate girl that she immediately kept quiet. The students in this class were the second graders so they were more mature to control their curiosity, I thought. I had my lecture and passed the hour safe and sound. No one else asked me about my face again.

When I walked into Room 105, Bonnie, Angela, and Linda all looked at me strangely and asked, “Teacher, what’s wrong with you? You got allergic?” A little shocked though I was, I still kept calm and answered, “Oh, Yeah, You got it.” Linda said, “Oh, poor teacher, you should ask your husband to treat you.” “Ok, Thank you so much. You are so sweet.” I answered. In my mind, I was happy because I knew they would stop asking me and I could pass this hour safely again.

I felt a little uneasy when I was walking into Room 102. My dear Class 102, oh, my goodness, I couldn’t imagine how they would react when they saw my face. However, I still had to get into the classroom no matter what would happen.

I bravely walked in, stepped on the platform, and then turned my face to the whole class.

Julia screamed: What’s wrong with your face, Michelle? Is it a domestic violence? I’ll call 113 for you.

Wendy: Michelle, you got allergic?

Susan: Michelle, who slapped you so hard? You got all bruises all over your cheeks.

John said: My goodness, your husband kissed you so hard?

        (I was laughing so hard hearing all these silly and funny questions. Finally, I collected myself and stopped laughing when I heard John’s words.)

I answered loudly: Bingo! John got it.

Jane laughed out loud and yelled: Come on; don’t tell a lie, Michelle. Is your husband an octopus?

        (The whole class roared with laughter, including me.)

Jane said: Tell us the truth, or we won’t let you have the lecture today.

Julia asked with a sweet voice: Michelle, tell us what was wrong. We love you so much.

 Oh, my goodness! I finally confessed everything. This is rather a naughty, cute and smart class. I can’t help it.  

May 8, 2009