Red has never been my color.

That's me. Just picture more blood. 

Vampires would love me today. I am pretty certain due to the volume of blood I have been dealing with, they would not be able to resist. No - this is not a post about "that time of the month." Ew.          I leave that stuff out - I try to keep it classy people. This is a post about the unfortunate series of events that have been my not-so-sparkly, red letter morning.

After yet another hour-long session in my favorite love it/hate it cardio class at the gym, I quickly made my way to the locker room, did my super-man style shower (so fast that often random strangers in the locker room will comment on how quick I am... which may or may not be a good thing? I am clean. I swear.) and was right on schedule. Every morning I only have 25 minutes to get completely ready before heading to work, and I have my routine down to a science. But everything must go perfectly - staying on routine is crucial to not only looking presentable but also getting to work on time and subsequently, keeping my job.

My condition.

All toasty from my shower, I reached my hand into my bag to pull out my clothes and my razor blade, which was sticking up in the pocket holder, nicked the softened skin of my ring finger. What initially felt like a "well, that sucks" moment became a "holy. freaking. crap. My finger is a blood faucet dripping everywhere." I instinctively stuck my finger in my mouth to catch the bleeding (um, not my idea of breakfast) and ran around the locker room in my towel like.....well..... like a person who's finger is a damn faucet and whose mouth became the sink. After mumbling through my "situation" I luckily found someone who had a band-aid. I wrapped up my finger, cleaned up the surrounding area, and went about getting ready. [Routine off by a solid 7.5 minutes].

I told some bystanders in the locker room that all was well - no need to be alarmed - and yet unknowingly to me, the blood from my faucet finger had caught behind my clear retainer making it look as though I had a disgusting bloody grill for teeth. Five minutes after I assume this condition began, I caught myself in the mirror about to put on my foundation and was absolutely mortified. I ran to the sink to clean out my retainer and mouth. [Routine off by an additional 3 minutes.] [Pride and sanity down by 85%].

I finally made it to the office [10.5 minutes late] with wet, slicked-back low-bun hair - not my best look - and sat down at my desk with a throbbing finger and a flushed face. I started to check my emails and mindlessly reached for a tissue to wipe my frequently runny nose (I have a stupid self-diagnosed syndrome in which my nose always runs, especially when I eat, regardless of the food, season or climate. Awesome. Convenient. And did I mention, attractive? The doctor said there are "drops" for this. Useless.).  Suddenly I noticed the white Kleenex was doused with crimson red blood. How could this be? Did my finger bleed through two band-aids onto the tissue. Check again. No... No... No.... and just like that, faucet number two, otherwise known as my nostril, erupted open like Niagara falls with blood.

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

See. No judgement. Hollywood made it okay.

I went to the bathroom with the only thing that remedies a bloody nose efficiently - a tampon. Now, I am allowed to make this feminine product reference because it is in regards to the nose bleed and nothing else. Chill. And don't judge me. When you have a temperamental nose such as mine, you learn the tricks. This one I took from the movie "She's The Man." It may seem crazy, but trust me, it works.

At this point, my routine was completely off-kilter. My boss was surely questioning the issues causing my elongated stay in the bathroom. My slicked-back hair was totally messing with my facial balance and making my head look like an over-animated cartoon. I was bleeding from multiple locations and I felt like a complete mess. The only thing that made me feel better as I sat in the bathroom stall with a throbbing finger and a tampon wedged up my nose was knowing that while my routine and pride had been hijacked, at least the vampires would be pleased.

Then I strategically washed my hands in the real faucet (as to not moisten my band-aid) for ten minutes straight wondering why exactly I got out of bed this morning.