Don't Even THINK About Them

The other day I said to myself, Self, as all Self respecting people do, acknowledging themselves, as it's simply rude to go around calling yourself 'Hey you', Self, you've have really clear skin for a very long time! Why, Self, I can't really remember the last pimple, perhaps you've only had one or two since you got pregnant in April of 2004!

To explain the significance of that, I must let you know that my face exploded after sophomore year of high school. My face, always fair and sensitive, bears lots of little red scars from the multitude of pimples that tormented me. Once, while working as a cashier at my high school job, a small child pointed to my face and asked his mother what was wrong with it. An ego booster if ever there was!! Is it any wonder I didn't have the self esteem to flirt with boys in high school? Really? They calmed down in college, but I never truly had 'clear' skin.

AnyWHO (this phrase usage can be directly attributed to my husband, along with "wicked", as in, "It's wicked cold in my office". Thanks, hon. Because of you, I am just a bit more dorky.), and again, AnyWHO, I conversed with my Self on the wonder of the no pimples and clear skin.

Which angered the pimple demons, as if I had injected oil directly into my pores. So now, I have two pimples, of two varieties. One is of the 'not too noticeable with the naked eye but hurts like a stake in your head if you accidentally hit it' variety, the other is of the 'Look, Pus!' variety. Which of course, popped up after I took my shower and before I got to work. I am fortunate that I went to the restroom early this morning at work, lest I be walking around all day talking to people with 'LOOK AT MY WHITEHEAD!'

Ew.