i have a little confession to make. i'm just going to whisper it though because i'm a little bit embarrassed about it. did you lean in close? okay, deep breath... i'm a little bit obsessed with my face.
i never had terrible skin as a teenager. it wasn't great, but no big deal. but when i turned 30, it was like my face decided to try out this acne business and it went for it with gusto. and apparently, it really liked it & was good at it, so it decided to keep the acne around for a while. brooke was three then & she used to stare and point at my spots & once she told me that she'd pray for Jesus to fix me. another time she offered to take me to the vet to get my face owies away.
i managed to get it under control with Proactive for a few years, but recently it's come back and it's making me miserable. i feel like since i'm chubby, and i can't afford to dress my chubby self in particularly fashionable clothes, the least i can do is make my head look good. my hair can go either way - sometimes it's friendly to me & other times it's crap. but my face is usually the only thing left that i can control because even when you're poor, you can still buy makeup & skillfully apply it in such a way that you play up whatever assets you've got.
but my face has betrayed me. and it must be punished. i feel compelled to stuff my face into mirrors several times a day with my nose practically pressed against the glass so that i can pick, dig & squeeze my skin into submission. that doesn't really work though. it just makes it uglier. and i can't keep my fingers from exploring my bad skin, even when i'm out of the house. i'll peel or pick at myself even while walking through a store, never mind that i leave little bloody, flaming red spots oozing on my face. i wish i could blame my compulsion on an illness, much the same way a drinker blames alcoholism. in theory, you can just choose not to take that drink, but the alcoholic can't seem to resist the urge. in much the same way, i can't seem to keep my hands off my face even though i know the results are detrimental to my health and beauty.
i feel like the quality of my day is directly related to the state of my face. i know that's shallow. i wish i could i could say that i was a better person than that, but until i figure out how to work through my pickaholism, please, try not to stare when i come out of a bathroom with bright red blotches on my face. and a TP tail.