Cold sores are like the world’s worst advent calendar. Each morning for about two weeks, you wake up and see what new awful development has happened on your face. Every day a new surprise of disgustingness and disfigurement! What is the sore doing now? Is it smooth and bulging? Crusted? Oozing? Contageous? Cankerous? Festering? Gross enough to frighten away cute animals and small children? Every day a surprise!

Normally, I only get cold sores when I’m unfathmably stressed. This means I’ve started school numerous times looking like a lip-leper (most recently in NYC summer of 2001. Coincidence that the fashionista assigned to sit next to me moved her seat, and never spoke to me after that first day? Crusty McCrusterson THINKS NOT!) I usually move to new cities looking all nasty and cold sore-y, great for making good first impressions. I’m not sure what I’m so stressed about right now, but dear god. Hide me in a hole. Please.