You wouldn’t know it by looking at me, but I have two monster zits on my face this week.
Oh wait. It’s the opposite of that.
You absolutely would know it by looking at me, because it’s actually more like two monster zits happen to have a face this week.
They’re bad. They’re angry and red, and they hurt every time I touch them, which I can’t stop doing. One is on my chin, exactly where witches keep their warts. The other is between my eyes in a spot where my glasses come very close to hiding it, but highlight it instead. I’ve been avoiding human interaction even more than usual because the second I see someone’s eyes flicker towards them, it takes everything I’ve got not to throw my arm across my face and stumble blindly away, yelling, “Don’t look at me! DON’T LOOK AT ME!”
I know it shouldn’t be like this. I have a lot of things going for me right now — my job is getting kind of exciting! I have a house that’s progressively becoming less pink!
Even cosmetically speaking, I’m doing alright. I have all my teeth, anyway, and my bangs are finally starting to look normal again. I should have the confidence to look my pimples in the eye (and that’s how big they are — they have their own eyes) and say, “Oh no you don’t. Not on this face,” and then watch while they shrink down to nothing in fear.
No such luck. Call me shallow. Call it a first world problem. Whatever you do, don’t call me Pizza Face. My poor, fragile psyche can’t handle it. The instant one of these suckers erupts on my face, my self-confidence is shot for at least a week. My hair is wrong, my clothes are wrong, my entire existence up to this point has been wrong. Pimples really take it out of you.
The Five Stages of Zits
1. Denial. “My face kind of hurts. It’s a little red. It’s probably nothing. If it is something, I bet it’s a bee sting from one of those invisible silent bees I’ve definitely read about in some very scientific and highly credible journal.”
2. Anger. “Oh god. It is a zit. How can this be happening to me? I FINISHED PUBERTY LIKE 10 YEARS AGO. THEY PROMISED ME IN MIDDLE SCHOOL THAT IT WOULD GET BETTER ! THEY SAID ZITS BUILD CHARACTER AND THAT I WOULD GET THROUGH IT! But no! Here I am on the other side, plenty of character and puh-lenty of zits. MY PARENTS LIED TO ME! MY TEACHERS LIED TO ME! SOCIETY LIED TO ME! VENGEANCE WILL BE MINE!”
3. Bargaining. “Why didn’t I wash my face better that one night last week? Why didn’t I eat a second helping of vegetables at dinner, and why didn’t I stop eating chocolate the first time I ever had it? Look, zit. Here’s the deal. This week is bad for me. I have stuff going on. I have a date, zit! Do you think you could relocate up here, under my bangs? No? What if — and I’m just spitballing here — what if you come back next week? Or even the week after that? Hell, bring a friend or two. I won’t even cover you. Just not tonight, zit. Please.”
4. Depression. “It’s never, never, never going to get better. I can refresh this page a million times — the internet still doesn’t know how to disguise or shrink pimples. I guess I’m never going outside again. Obviously no one could ever love someone so grotesque, so all future happiness is out. Now I am become zit, the destroyer of good.”
5. Acceptance. “You know what? Most of my face is not a giant pimple right now. In fact, I’m like 99% zit-free. It’s just a weird bump on my face that I can disguise as a slightly less weird bump with a spoonful of makeup or two. It’s perfectly natural. Everyone gets zits. We can’t all be beautiful all the time. So what? It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Somewhere underneath the layer of pus.”
I’m starting to pull out of stage four right now and entering the acceptance stage, which will be nice. Someday I’ll have clear skin again. I’m really looking forward to it, because I plan on showing it off by holding all conversations three inches away from whoever I’m talking to. It might be in my head, but I think my monster zits are shrinking into mere giant uber zits. Maybe Clear Skin Day is around the corner!
Ow. My nose kind of hurts. It’s a little red, actually.
IT’S PROBABLY NOTHING.