June 19, 2008
Killing Any Respect You May Have Had for Me
I think most people have had this problem: No matter how cleanly you are, even those of us who shower daily are, on ocassion, mystified by a lone zit on some random part of our bodies.
Take me for example. My body is cleansed every day. When I have time, a couple mornings a week, I exfoliate and moisturize everything.
So I was pretty distraught to find an enormous zit on my ass. Now, my ass is included on the list of body parts that I regularly loofa. Seriously, you could eat off my ass! How the hell did I get a zit there?!
And not just any zit. It was huge. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. Felt like I had an M&M made of rock and lava under my delicate tushie skin.
And not being able to see it was a whooooooole other problem because I didn't know what class of zit it was. Was it a Class 1, a painful, red wellie (i.e. zit that wells up from underneath the skin, as opposed to a plugged pore)? Was it a Class 2, one with a small whitehead that's not really worth popping, yet? Or a dreaded -- yet strangely satisfying -- Class 3, one that is straining under the thin membrane of skin, ready to splatter volanic pus all over the mirror?
How to tell...?
That, my friend, is why God invented digital cameras. The camera could be my eye, and I could see the photo immediately.
I tell ya, there's nothing sadder than a pantsless wench, standing in front of a full-length mirror, trying to take a picture of her own ass. It sounds sexy, I know -- but it's not. TRUST ME. So very, very not.
On my third attempt, I got a very clear picture. No, I'm not including it here. I trust your imaginations. And I need to keep one teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy speck of self-respect.
Self-respeckt, if you will.
Sure enough, it was a Class 3, ready to erupt. But I was having a hard time getting both hands at the right angles for squeezing it.
I knew, if I asked Husband, he'd flat-out refuse. And probably move out. Billi lives too far away. And I don't think that I've reached that particular level of comfort with any of my friends.
Using my acrobatic training from my days with the circus (my parents sold me to the gypsies when I was little, but the gypsies brought me back, so they left me at the circus), I finally popped that zit. And I even managed to get some antibiotic cream on it and cover it with a band-aid! Talent like that is rare, my friends.
So I just want to say, to all my friends and family: I know the pain of the unreachable zit, and I will always be there to pop them for you. That's how much I love you all.
You ungrateful bastards, where were you when it hurt for me to sit down?!
Comments
Oh my. Wenchie bent all around, trying to get both hands on her ass? Are you trying to give me more dream fodder?? ;-) (I can ignore zits in my dream, after all.)
Posted by: some_other_dave at June 19, 2008 12:32 PM
Are you sure you didn't just pop a hemmoroid?
Posted by: Kelly Garrett at June 19, 2008 09:49 PM
Ah, sweetie, makes me wish I lived in Chi-town. We could perform this service for each other.
Posted by: Mickey at June 20, 2008 07:00 AM