God is punishing me with adult acne. There is nothing adult about acne. This humiliation should only affect teenagers and Meth addicts. I can accept the corpulent nightmare that is my post baby body but leave my face alone. Women my age should be concerned with correcting fine lines and wrinkles, not performing late term abortions on their chins. I wasn’t particularly zitty as a teen so I never went beyond using tooth paste and Witch Hazel as assailants. Frankly, I had perky teenage boobs. I could have looked like Rocky Dennis and still gotten play. These new monsters are unyielding. They’re like Russian stacking dolls where each new layer uncovers a smaller yet achingly similar version of the previous zit. After months of shame and strategically placed band-aids I went to see the Dermatologist.
My dermatologist is a judgmental twat with porcelain skin who I like to refer to as "Powder." I swear she removes moles from my body solely based on how tan I am. One time I popped in for a prescription renewal and she had me ass out with a scalpel and numbing cream in her hands. I know she went to medical school but honestly does she really qualify to see me naked? When I told her about my little predicament she said "go on the pill." I’ve been down that road before and acting "crazy as fuck" is only cute in your 20’s. Now it’s grounds for divorce. Besides, I can’t imagine telling my husband, "Sorry the doc cut your nuts hon, but I’m gonna go ahead and go back on the pill."
After months of unsuccessfully trying serums and creams, I went back to her guns and face blazing demanding she rid me of this acne. This is my time to shine! She finally agreed to put me on Acutaine but I need to take a pregnancy test first. Ummm… Hello? Who wants to fuck a pimple with saggy boobs?