There's nothing more delicate than a gal that shows up to work sporting a bruise, cut, or, godforbid, love bite!
As a ninetofiver the blemish will no doubt result in a flury of questions from coworkers who are eager to hear about one's life outside the cubicle.
For those of us who are terrible fibbers, it's often difficult to explain how such a mark has been procured ("well, I was kinda drunk and sort of stumbled up my front steps"; "well there was this guy at this party I was at, and he kinda reminded me of this one celebrity... yada yada yada" or the painfully truthful "I don't know") all while conducting oneself in a businesslike manner wearing a pinstripe pencil skirt and kitten heels.
However, with no office to report to, no prying coworkers to discuss the weekend's less-than-dignified events with, the wounds can simply heal in the comfort of one's own home, or at the Starbucks down the street, neatly hidden under a playful scarf.
Hang in there, Z ;)