Queen of Rambles

1. I had no pimples. None. Nada.
2. . . .

Hmmmmmm. There doesn’t seem to be a number 2 through 10.

I have a dermatologist appointment on Tuesday and I am nervous. He’s supposed to do a mole check and a big lumps on my head check (pilar cysts) and hopefully remove one or two of the lumps, but I am scared he is going to take one look at my zits and decide I need serious intervention. A few years ago I would have been excited by the opportunity to have a professional help me with my problems, but after going through all sorts of different kinds of zit treatments (including a weekly acetone/dry ice rub) I’ve decided it’s all a crock. I know this guy is going to want me to drop all kinds of cash on treatments that won’t work. Just look at the website: Dermskin. They are fancy. They are going to want me to be fancy. I wish I could be fancy. I am not fancy.

For years and years and years I lived with the guilt and shame of my pimply face. I succumbed to the myths that I must be dirty and greasy and fat. I deserved all the zits because I didn’t wash my face well enough (even though I scrubbed so hard I literally had scabs on my face from washing the skin right off) and I ate chocolate.

Then I got pregnant and didn’t have more than nine zits in a nine month period. I even stopped washing my face because I thought that had something to do with it.

It was bliss. Pure bliss. I actually looked at my face in the mirror and liked what I saw. There were no scabs or welts or other nastiness. I just wish I could go back and tell my 12 year old self that her pimples are not her fault. They are totally hormonal. Then I’d have to hope my teenaged self didn’t try to test it out by having a baby (not that I can imagine my teenaged self being that stupid or that brave).

So now I get to go in and have someone look at my naked body and judge me for all my imperfections and wonder why I don’t just spend $100 a month to clear up my face and look normal. Or at least wear some make-up. Or something.

I just hope he doesn’t decide to take naked pictures of me*.

*When Mike went in for a mole check his doctor made him take a series of naked pictures to document all his moles.

This entry was posted on Friday, April 28th, 2006 at 9:19 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.