Why? Well, there are days when you wake up in the morning and your hair looks great and your skin is clear. On these days, you know that you'll have nowhere to go but the supermarket and your perfect complexion and hairdo will be utterly wasted.
There are days when you wake up in the morning and you have a giant pimple on your nose and your hair is flat and you look absolutely awful. On these days, you know that you're going to run into your ex-boyfriend, the cute barista you're always flirting with, and that popular girl from your old school.And then there are days when you wake up in the morning with a giant scab on your nose from where you got into a fight with a cupboard and you know without a shadow of a doubt that within a day or two you're going to be asked to go on national television and show your nose to the world. It's the law.
This morning did not go smoothly at all. Firstly, I woke with a very husky voice, which was marvellously sexy at 6.15am, but was heading alarmingly quickly towards 'unintelligible'. I prayed that it would hang in there till after the show, and conserved my voice as much as possible.
I got into a cab and gave directions to the Channel Seven studios.
"Shall we take Oxford St or William St?" asked the driver.
"I don't know," I said. "They're probably both the same at this hour."
"I know," he said. "That's why I asked you."
This wasn't really getting us very far.
"Fine," I told him. "Take William St."
"I think Oxford St would be better," he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Fine!" I yelled. Oops. Conserve voice. We drove in silence the rest of the way.
At the studios, I was delighted to note that none of the Channel 7 staff poked fun at my nose. Of course, they are probably trained to keep the 'talent' happy (wouldn't want me clutching my face and running tearily from the set) but still, I was most grateful. I spoke as little as possible (which for me meant 'still quite a lot compared to other people) and waited for makeup,
The makeup artist did a stellar job of further camouflaging my injury as I tried not to talk to her too. Of course, I did still manage to talk, even when she was applying lipstick, which is a pretty clever feat, I can assure you.
I was ushered onset and the filming went off without a hitch. I was positioned strategically with the wound facing away from the camera and my voice - now hovering somewhere between 'gravelly' and 'non-existent' held out for the duration of the segment.
Afterwards I joined my fellow interviewees Dr Ginni and Yvette Vignando of HappyChild for a coffee around the corner. All had gone well. It was time to relax.
"Er, excuse me," said the waiter, pointing at my face. "You have something stuck on your nose."
I may have got through the interview, but mortification is only ever a few steps away.
Please find the link to the segment here.
