My lips are sealed

For six months and counting, no solid food or liquid has made it past my lips. But lately I've been stockpiling ChapStick at home, at the office and in my car, and I'm practically eating the stuff.

A few Sundays ago, after a morning at the beach, my lips started to chap and bleed. So I fished around in my drawer of forgotten beauty supplies —I have no idea where all of those bottles of gold nail lacquer came from— and discovered an old tube of ChapStick. After just a days of regular application, my lips improved.

I can probably lay off medicating my kisser with ChapStick, but I think I might have developed an addiction.

I use ChapStick when I drive, when I sit in the john and I wouldn't be surprised to discover I use it in my sleep. The other day at the office I spent most of my shift with my right hand on the computer mouse and my left hand digging blindly in my desk drawer for the tube of ChapStick.

I don't remember what riveting website I was looking at or what I was working on, but I didn't take my eyes of the monitor as I popped the lid to the tube and raised it to my lips.

The balm felt kinda gross and thick and it didn't smell at all like any flavor of ChapStick I've ever encountered. When I looked down at my hand, I realized that I was applying Glue Stick to my lips.

I hope no one at the office spotted me gluing my lips together. Rumors may start flying about what may be the real reason I'm unable to talk.