Skin woes: I am intimately familiar with them. I enjoyed the first two decades of my life with a face as smooth, pale, and unblemished as an egg shell. I fielded endless compliments about the condition and clarity of my perfect skin, as well as many an elderly person croaking in my general direction that I “SHOULD NEVER GO OUT IN THE SUN.” And when old people tell you things, you listen. Then, about a year ago, everything changed. (I would appreciate if somebody could please hold my hand while I talk about this.) While in the past I hadn’t weathered much more than a whitehead or two every so often, I started developing swollen, excruciatingly painful cystic acnes (not a scientific term) that would never come out from underneath my skin. They would just linger there, taunting me, until I hauled ass to the dermatologist and got them injected with cortisone for the small price of an insurance copay.
The story does not end here. I guess my previously perfect skin had just had it with me, or the fact that all I ever seemed to be doing was eating Chinese food and chain-smoking (ugh, I know, I was sick of me too), because it hasn’t been the same since, even despite my having made some significant Lifestyle Changes. I definitely don’t get as many terrible cysts as I used to, praise god, but my face is full of texture and other stuff that I don’t like. Because my number one priority is always, without fail, presenting what I like to refer to as “a united front,” I got really, really good at concealer instead of sitting around looking in the mirror and crying about it. Just kidding, I sat in front of the mirror and cried about it first, then I got really good at concealer. Keep reading »
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