When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time with slabs of meat on my face.
As kids, my brother Eric and I fought like wild animals. He still sports a scar above his lip from a cut I accidentally gave him, and my nose isn't quite as straight as it might be if I hadn't taken so many shots to it. We're as close as can be today, but back in our teen years, we sported many a bruised ego and blackened eye. And the home remedy for the latter? A hunk of steak.
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