Got a lot of sun this weekend. Not doing anything fun, either. Nope. That wouldn't do! I was helping my dh stain the front porch. While I paintbrushed on a nice, rich sweet-smelling stain onto the lattice work, the sun baked the skin off my back.
I'm so going to peal. Yuck.
I really thought I had sun-stroke or sun-poisoning Saturday night. My head felt funny, I was nauseous, and radiating heat like a furnace. I went to sleep and woke up unable to move without wincing. Touching my back proved an agony--not even aloe soothed the burn. Two days of laying on the couch, belly down, with very loose, soft t-shirts and shorts a size too big preceded today's adventure of putting on a bra and going off to work.
The girls at work tell me I'm blistered. Not those little, pinprick blisters. My blisters are huge, welt-like sores. Fun stuff. The Health Care major told me I might want to see a doctor. She mentioned words like raw skin and infection. I don't think it's that bad but what do I know? I can't see my back. I can only feel it. And it itches.
Yep, the burn has diminished to an irritating itch I can't scratch.
Don't want to pop those blisters...nope, I don't. Letting the skin underneath mature a bit as the old stuff dies sounds like a good idea.
Well, this will teach me to believe the hubby when he says I'm not even getting pink.