Dear Mr. Steele,
I want to know what is the truth behind those pesky, nasty, creepy, ugly little pimples we all affectionately call zits.
Here's where I'm coming from...
I woke yesterday morning and there in the mirror, and this was in the morning so it wasn't a pretty sight to begin with, but there was thing big, gigantic whitehead right in th middle of my chin.
Instant nightmares of high school days came rushing through my mind as I almost panic with the thought of all the business meetings I have to attend today where there will be no opportunity for me to avoid showing my face.
This is not supposed to happen to us when we leave high school. I mean, sure there are pimples in other places (that I decline to mention) but not the good old fashioned ones that plagued and terrorized our faces throughout our childhood.
What's up with that?
Where do these nasty buggers come from, and why now?
Is my skin trying to revert back to happier times, or is taking revenge on me for not spending enough time relaxing in day spas and basking in the sun?
Is there a conspiracy that I don't know about?
I would like to know the truth.
Concerned zit conspiracy victim.
Email: I take the fifth here.
Well ... whattaya know? Another question about a topic with which I am intimately familiar. Did you know me in high school, or was that just a lucky guess?
Ah ... I remember it well. I feel a slight itch on my neck--I scratch the itch and begin bleeding in four places. I remember my face being painfully swollen every single day. I remember the cries of frightened children, terrified that they would one day reach puberty and enter my Personal Hell. I remember shirts and pillow cases, forever stained with blood and pus. I remember wiping the yellow juice from the bathroom mirror and continuing with the daily ritual of emptying as many painful zits as possible.
Then I got a job at a fast food restaurant, working behind the grill--and my malady became the stuff of legend. Brindle-Fly had it easy compared to what I had to face. I was a modern Elephant Man, my head so heavy with acne that I was forced to sleep sitting-up lest I snap my neck in the night.
You don't see complexions like that anymore. They've become a thing of the past thanks to improved medications--and Thank God, because the adults of tomorrow don't NEED the inhuman character that those experiences can build. Far better that they never know what that's like than endure what I endured.
The truth about these little eruptions is that ... well ... there is no truth about them. Just be happy that in adulthood they only come one at a time, and with no intention of Taking Over. My advice involves peroxide and Exacto knives, and not everyone has the stomach to embrace my personal approach.
Remember, it's what on the inside that's important--which is why you have to stick the knife into your face at least an eighth of an inch.
But, above all, have fun with it.