I only get about four zits per year so I don’t know if I’m even allowed to complain, but I have this huge pimple of mass destruction going on right now and it’s really upsetting me. I only break out a) when I’m on my period and b) when I’m stressed and now I’m STRESSED AND ON MY PERIOD. I also have a mysterious illness that is making me quite nauseous. The result is a monster zit that’s taken over a third of my left cheek. In case you’re wondering, the stress is the result of my many midterms that I have neither the will nor the time to study for.
What is one supposed to do when they get pimples? I just play with them. I popped this one earlier but I’m so tempted to just keep pressing on it like a button. I’m sure that makes it worse but my fingers are clean, I swear. I also put this Benzac pimple cream on it (which I think is just creamy bleach) but it burned like fire. I think that’s how you know it’s working.
It’s times like these I wish I knew how to put makeup on so I could mask my deformity, but oh well. I’m procrastinating hard right now, so I should probably get to work. Goodbye.
I’m fortunate in that I’ve always been praised for having beautiful, clear skin. I took pride in my acne-free visage. I convinced myself that my good complexion and cute button nose would make up for my pear-shaped hips and my small, B-cup tits. Sadly, all that changed a mere few months ago.
I was luckiest in high school. Not having to endure a perma-pizza face throughout adolescence like all my friends did (suckers!) gave me a bit of an acne superiority complex. In my mind, I had refined pores and quality skin. There was no need for Neutrogena, Clean & Clear or Accutane.
One fine morning, my sebaceous glands realized they had spared my face from embarrassing pimples far too long. It was retaliation time. From one day to the next, I went from having immaculate skin to being plagued with whiteheads, blackheads and pus-filled zits. They began to follow their own cycle, too; the pimples reach their peak a week before and during my period. Afterwards, they start to swell down. This ultimately leaves me with one week of clear skin between periods.
They’re usually the most painful type of pimple; the kind you can’t pop for days, that hurts when you touch it, that even the best makeup can’t conceal. Sometimes it starts with a barely noticeable blemish on my cheek. “Don’t touch it,” I warn myself, “You’ll cause more harm than good.” But I have to touch it. I have this constant, uncontrollable desire to squeeze it or rip it off. My greasy fingers end up feeding the blemish, which then grows into a monster zit.