okay here's the issue:
I am 36 years old. I have 3 children that I raise that actually came right out of my body. Three of them, at different times in my adult life. I have 2 dogs that I feed and bathe and take care of in the most general sense, oh and a cat-- all 5 of whom live with me. I am, for all intents and purposes, a grown woman. GROWN. As in big. As in responsible. As in I no longer ask my mom if I can have a ride to the mall or eat candy for breakfast.
So what the flippin' hell, man? I rise this morning after a moderately wakeful night's sleep (my daughter , Flippifina Acrobatica, wants to sleep in my tiny bed with me every night and I have to put her back into her bed repeatedly because I am not in the mood for her hot little foot in the small of my back), and find that a small mountain (whom I have named "Jerry") has erupted in the middle of my face.
My visage ruined, I have no idea what to do about this damn acne situation. I have more scars from the last year than my entire lifetime. Back in the day, as I gazed down from my great and glittery throne with my perfect, baby-fine exterior, I used to feel really sorry for the great unwashed that had to suffer with acne scars. "Those poor crater faces," I would think, as I carefully plied my flawless skin with lotion. "They look so horrendous and yet manage to intermingle with the general populace all unbeknownst! How very quaint."
Of course, I'm thinking this attitude *may* have jinxed me into becoming the vesuvius-laden crone I now am. Maybe not. Maybe it was that fact that I ate pizza last night for dinner, a meal I have maybe once every three months, and became a pizza FACE. See, but the irony falls short when I recognize thatI have been a pizza face for the last two years. One would assume that there was a direct correlation between eating pizza and looking like one-- and you know what happens when one assumes.
No.
I do not believe this skin affliction is diet related. Nor do I believe that answers are available for me on a scientific level. In point of fact, I think, just as a matter of course, that this is some kind of horrendous and hateful karmic debt I must repay.
Excuse me now while I try to lance "Jerry."
So what the flippin' hell, man? I rise this morning after a moderately wakeful night's sleep (my daughter , Flippifina Acrobatica, wants to sleep in my tiny bed with me every night and I have to put her back into her bed repeatedly because I am not in the mood for her hot little foot in the small of my back), and find that a small mountain (whom I have named "Jerry") has erupted in the middle of my face.
My visage ruined, I have no idea what to do about this damn acne situation. I have more scars from the last year than my entire lifetime. Back in the day, as I gazed down from my great and glittery throne with my perfect, baby-fine exterior, I used to feel really sorry for the great unwashed that had to suffer with acne scars. "Those poor crater faces," I would think, as I carefully plied my flawless skin with lotion. "They look so horrendous and yet manage to intermingle with the general populace all unbeknownst! How very quaint."
Of course, I'm thinking this attitude *may* have jinxed me into becoming the vesuvius-laden crone I now am. Maybe not. Maybe it was that fact that I ate pizza last night for dinner, a meal I have maybe once every three months, and became a pizza FACE. See, but the irony falls short when I recognize thatI have been a pizza face for the last two years. One would assume that there was a direct correlation between eating pizza and looking like one-- and you know what happens when one assumes.
No.
I do not believe this skin affliction is diet related. Nor do I believe that answers are available for me on a scientific level. In point of fact, I think, just as a matter of course, that this is some kind of horrendous and hateful karmic debt I must repay.
Excuse me now while I try to lance "Jerry."
posted by @traciAWESOME
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