I’m lying on the exam table in my doctor’s office the Wednesday before my wedding. The room seems bleary through my watery eyes. It probably smells like antiseptic, but how would I know my nose has been stuffed up for four days now.
No amount of NyQuil has helped me. I have a raging head cold. With only three days to go before my wedding, I’m seeking professional help.
The door pops open. My doctor is reading my chart when she looks at me, doing a double take.
“Oh, you very ugly for your wedding,” she says. “You’re nose all red. Watch you going to do?”
I blink not once, not twice, but three times. “I don’t know, go to my doctor.”
Ugly indeed.
