Friday, December 12, 2008

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I was cursed with bad skin.

After working my way through every cleanser, using a multitude of anitbiotics, burning creams and Accutane I was left with only a mild case of bad skin which means there are approximately 43 seconds out of the month where I have clear skin not counting the numerous pink spots reminding me that an enormous boil used to be there and will, in all likelihood, rear it's ugly whitehead at the most inconvenient time, like a wedding.

Because of my skin's sensitivity I usually avoid facials since their purpose is to draw the impurities OUT of the skin while I prefer to simply ignore their existence and go about in a constant state of anxiety regarding my pores. But I caved last week and scheduled an "Organic Facial" assuming that since organic is infinitely better than "processed" my skin would be pleased with my decision.

It turns out my skin could care less if a product is organic, homegrown, or free range and it would much rather erupt in the World's largest zits as a sign of it's displeasure. For the past week I've resembled a resident of a leper colony only the leprosy is confined to my face. I was half tempted to carry a bell with me and ring it whenever entering a public place to give any unfortunate person in the vicinity fair warning to run and hide.

The good news is that the size of the craters left in my face from such epic blemishes could possibly be rented out as storage or advertising space. At least for now I have a place to put all my spare change.

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