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Baby Cosmetic

I get home, work out, and hear the familiar rumble of the garage door opening up.  They are home and I’m happy to see them.  M waves from the driver seat and I head to the passenger side to wave at him and see him smile.  But something is amiss.  He looks like he ate a salad of poison ivy.  His lips are puffy and he does a good impression of the Real Housewives of Whatever with the majority of those spoiled awful ladies with enough collagen in their lips to buoy a rescue vessel.  Lips so puffed up that they can’t close them and they look like cat faces with clam attached mouths sucking in seawater and plankton…  

I can’t get on that tangent of television or that would be a very long paragraph.

I shouldn’t joke about it, but M and I were.  “What kind of doctor would authorize baby lip injections?”  “They should have their medical license revoked” 

Well, B has a reaction to something.  It may be his teeth still bothering him or the persistent river of drool causing the irritation, but I feel bad for him.  Hopefully tonight it’s cleared up and he learns a valuable lesson when answering an ad for cheap cosmetic procedures.

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