Why did I think that at age 31 I would no longer have to deal with pimples? Where did I first hear that acne was the exclusive domain of teenagers? Because I have to say, some days my skin is just as bad as it was when I was 15. And I know they call it “adult acne”, but it didn’t magically appear after I reached adulthood. The acne I developed as a teen just never went away. Oh sure, it got a lot better, and the mystical concoction of potions and unguents I apply to my misbehaved skin does a pretty darn good job of keeping breakouts at bay and covering the occasional whitehead. But there are days. Frustrating days. Days like today, when there’s a monstrous cyst – like abomination on my face that I can actually feel pulsing, like it has its own personality or something. And it’s one of those that will probably hang around for awhile, so I may as well make friends with it.
I think I’ll call it Bob.