Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair

On my walk back to the guesthouse, every time the wind blew I smelled him on me. In my hair, on my clothes, on my face. UGH. I smelled like I showered in man sweat.

I made it back around eight in the morning. The guesthouse owners were sitting in the reception area and looked up as I walked in.  I felt like I was doing the “walk of shame” and I’m sure I smelled like it too. With me coming in at this time in the morning, they obviously knew I wasn’t there last night. I could only wonder what they were thinking about where I was. Only one whiff of me and they would know.

I kept my head down as I sat down to eat breakfast. I was starving but couldn’t eat. Everything made me nauseous. I was exhausted and dehydrated and just wanted to sleep. I felt like shit and smelled like it too. It was a relief to finally get back to my room. I laid down, trying to rest and not think about everything that just happened but the remnants of it all were still in my hair and all over my clothes. I was so tired that I didn’t have enough strength to get up and shower, though and eventually I passed out.

I awoke two hours later still stinking like a beast and mustered up the strength to take a shower. As I lathered up the shampoo, I began to sing “Gonna wash that man right out of my hair!” If that song ever needed a fitting situation to make sense, this indeed was it!

After I was clean and smelling like myself again, I figured I would take a walk around Istanbul to clear my head. I began to put my makeup on, but what I saw in the mirror made me do a double-take. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I shouted into thin air.

My lips had turned dark purple.

“Am I dying of malnutrition?!?!?” was my first panicked thought. I mean, I haven’t been eating healthy at all and smoking way too many cigarettes. I quickly called my mom back in the US and told her what happened. “I don’t think it’s malnutrition. Maybe he sucked your lips too hard.” I went online and did a Google search about it and was quickly calmed, although disturbed, about what I’d discovered.

I had lip hickeys. 

Yes. Lip hickeys.

He sucked on my lips so hard that they were bruised. I was mortified. All I could think of was the fact that I had no lipstick to cover it, because I only use Chapstick. And how I was going to have to walk the streets of Istanbul looking like this. Everyone is going to know! How embarrassing!

I’m leaving in two days to go see my friend down south and he is definitely going to notice it. He’ll probably take one look at me and say, with a knowing smile, “Ah! I see you’ve been with your first Turk!”

Oh my God.

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