What's ZIT all about

Yes, I am in my 30s. Yes I still get zits.

For some reason they come in small colonies. Three or four at a time.

Every time I break out, Junior High health class comes rushing back to me and I wonder: what did I eat? Too much chocolate? Pizza? Did I adequately wash my face after working out? (um, never.)

Thinking about Junior High reminds me of teenage acne, and then I don't feel so bad about my three or four zits.

But, my hands start to itch and shake a bit. Want. To. Pick. Must. Refrain.

I am then mentally rushing back to my college Microbiology class. There is my professor, telling some horrible story about a woman who popped a zit and then died. Something about how the pressure of her "popping" burst a blood vessel that went right to her brain and killed her. All I could think about was her poor obituary, and if I incorrectly pop a zit that mine would be a similarly tragic end.

The professor showed us the "correct" way to extricate the insides of a pimple. It involved a straight pin, rubbing alcohol, and no joy.

My father A man I know taught me that revealing the contents inside the bulging bumps of skin was something to be excited about. It was even worth the embarrassment of your children when you would grab their teenage faces during church to "save" them from whiteheads. Those moments made me curious as well as embarrassed. Later, I would see how satisfying it was to pick one with some real hydraulics.

Are you grossed out? Come on. Don't pretend you don't understand.

As if having a mini-not-quite-rash-but-perhaps-something-worse right between your eyebrows/on your chin isn't bad enough, someone inevitably feels the need to point it out. A lot of times it is my children: "Mom! Why do you have red bumps on your face? Did you get hurt?" This is usually only said in a very loud voice in public. Where else?

Or when an adult (husband, brother, parent) points in circular motion at your affected area while saying: "What's going on right there?"

Like they don't know. This is what is referred to as INSULT TO INJURY. Not only is it obvious that you have adult pimples in a colony on your face, but now you have to admit as much out loud. "Oh, that, well, I broke out." No shmee, Sherlock.

I've been tempted more often than I'd like to admit to do what a friend of mine did back in the day--cover them with brown eyeliner and call them beauty marks. Marilyn Monroe never had it so good. 

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