The Morning Nose. I Mean Show!

This morning I appeared on The Morning Show with the lovely Kylie Gillies and the dashingly handsome Larry Emdur. I was only contacted to do the segment yesterday afternoon, but I've known since Saturday that I'd be making a television appearance this week. It was inevitable.

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.

I Got Punched!

On Saturday I got into a fight. I admit that I made the first move, but then I got slapped, hard, and I didn't like that at all. It got me right in the nose, and took off a big chunk of skin, and I bled all over my nice clean face.

It just goes to show. You should never muck around with a cupboard door.

For the record, I was the one opening the cupboard door. I was reaching up to take out a glass and leaned in just a little bit too close and WHAM. The damn thing swiped off the side of my nose. I felt the impact, but my nose immediately went numb, so I had no idea if there was any damage. I was too frightened to go and look in the mirror (I'm not scared of blood, but I am scared of gaping holes in my face) so I ventured out into the living room.

"Um... have I hurt myself?" I asked my husband.

His face said a thousand words, all of them starting with "AAAGGGGHHH!"

"AAAGGGGHHH!" he said.

"So that's a yes?"

He directed me to the bathroom where I noticed a sizeable piece of skin flapping in the breeze, as blood trickled down to my chin. It wasn't pretty, but it was strangely fascinating.

"Stop looking in the mirror and get down to the doctor's!" my husband commanded. Ah... doctor shmoctor. I couldn't be bothered, and besides, I had five boys turning up in 30 minutes for a slumber party. I didn't have time for facial surgery.

"I'll call Karen," I told him. Karen is my doctor friend and is delighted to take calls from me at all hours of the day and night to dispense medical advice. Or at least, that's what I tell myself when I call her at all hours of the day and night. I can't see why she'd have a problem with it. I mean, if she needed blogging advice I'd be very happy to give it. Of course, she doesn't actually have a blog, but that is completely beside the point.

Karen told me to gently ice the wound, stick the skin down, and get some steri-strips from the pharmacist to help the healing. I followed her advice to the letter, especially the bit about getting black jelly beans from the pharmacist to help with the trauma. (Karen may not have specifically advised that, but I know it was what she was thinking.)

So since Saturday afternoon, I have sported a bandaged nose with dried blood peeping out from around the edges. It's a very fashion-forward look, and I would recommend it to all who want to stand out from the crowd this winter. It's also done wonders for my husband's reputation, as the general consensus from friends and family that smacking oneself in the face with a cupboard door is utterly preposterous, which means that someone must have hit me. And, the only people in the house at the time were my husband and Boo - and Boo was sleeping - clearly he must have done it.

Now, it's not nice for people to think that my husband is a wife beater. However, it's even less nice for people to think that I'm a self-slapping moron. So yes, my husband did it. Bad, bad man.

Oh, and for the record, we were going to put the cupboard door down - after all, there's every chance it could strike again - but the cupboard looks pretty silly without it. So we've put it in the naughty corner. Conveniently, this is located in the back of the kitchen, right where the cupboard lives. It will stay there till it's learned its lesson.

Or until I work out how to open it without smacking myself in the face. May be a very long time.