Tuesday, March 27, 2012

What the WHAT?!?! (aka Adult Acne)

Can you count the zits on my
face? I'm not smiling so you
can see them all. And because
I don't love acne.
How the hell did I get these zits? And before anyone out there starts it, I'm not pregnant. And I hate that after the age of 25, every time something bizarre happens to my body and I make it public knowledge, I actually have to answer that question. It's almost as bad as being in a bad mood and having to constantly defend against the "Are you on your period?" question.

So, strike that from your list: Not pregnant. And yet, here I am 30-something years old with a huge breakout of acne on my face. And those in the picture are a) covered with make-up and b) from a pic shot yesterday before Mount St. Ashley really erupted. That doesn't even touch on the fact that I cut bangs especially because I could cover my forehead zits (and there are two--TWO--of them covered in that pic, too).

I never used to get zits as a teenager. Well, at least not like this. I'd get the occasional flair up, but it would go away. My brother, on the other hand, had the misfortune of having severe acne to deal with. I would taunt him when I was 13 with "At least I don't have ACNE!". He would then reply "I didn't have any either. Until I turned 14." He was manacle like that.

And before you get on my case about being so mean to my older brother, you have to realize that growing up I felt like of the two of us, I completely got the short end of the genetic stick. My brother is tall, always been naturally thin, exceptionally smart, rarely seemed like he had to try to gain friends, and generally was my hero. So as someone square in the middle of losing my battle against weight gain who had to study math for hours to get good grades, and who was teased mercilessly by girls for "having the bought the same pair of shoes" as another in the clique (true story), I was happy to have at least ONE advantage on him.

And here I am years later as a pizza face. The only thing I can attribute it to was that I bought a new foundation primer. It's the same brand as the primer I was using, but this version had "radiance" added in (aka shimmer-but the nice kind, nice like stripper glitter) and didn't come in oil-free. Chef encouraged me to suck up the primer as a loss and go get my old oil-free stuff. So I did. Today.

In the mean time, I'm stuck with a crippling case of adult acne that I would love to stay home and bury my head in a bowl of astringent until it clears up, but no such luck. And I watch those ProActiv commercials with new interest now. I hear them and perk up, but then I hear them say "In 90 days, my skin cleared up!". Um, my skin usually clears up in 90 days. That's not what I call great results. Am I wrong?

I gotta go preserve my sexy.

1 comment:

Misty said...

Is it wrong that I'm sort of relieved to hear this, to know that I'm not the only one? It may be from stress. Not even my $100 Lancome creams can cure my teenage-esque skin. Keep us posted if you find a cure!


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