Monday, May 09, 2005

Just Get On the Floor and Do the New Kids' Dance

Starting around 6th grade, the pimples came. The oil came. If you listened closely, you could practically hear the oil oozing out of my pores. Limited resource, my butt. Not on my face it isn't.

Thankfully, I didn't have the kind of acne that necessitates a round or two of Accutane, but it was bad enough to cause greater-than-average social discomfort. My back, my neck. Sometimes even my legs. I know! Almost no body part was spared.

The cursed among us can't really cover them up, because it only makes the breakouts more obvious when the foundation and concealer cake up and just become overly pigmented circles that dot your face. Add oil to the mix, and you've got a nasty mess on your hands.

In a nutshell, I pretty much had to go through adolescence pretending like that wasn't a third eye trying to grow on my forehead. Yep, everything is normal; move it along, folks. Builds character, right?

I used to wonder about the popular beeyotches: were they popular because their skin was peaches and cream, or was their skin peaches and cream because they were popular? I still don't have the answer to that one.

But eventually you do learn two things: 1) don't pick at your pimples, because it just makes scars and 2) one day, this too shall pass.

Well, number 1 is definitely true, but it's not anything that can't be patched up with some good concealer, unlike zits. Number 2 is a freaking lie. The zits have mostly subsided, I'll give them that. I get a minor breakout about once a month, and that's the extent of it. But the oil. The oil! Lord almighty, make it stop. Puberty is over! The memo was sent out years ago. Maybe my oil glands are the equivalent of Peter Gibbons, and they got the memo, but they just forgot. I'll have to get them another copy.

Yesterday I went to the mall to get some new foundation, and was talking with the salesgirl about the Oil That Doesn't Quit. She claims it will pay off big someday, to not lose hope, and as the New Kids On the Block say, Hang Tough (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!). She noted that if you compare women who are the same age and one has dry skin and the other has oily skin, the difference is astounding. Dry-skinned girls have it much worse, goes the story.

I said, "Yeah, yeah. Deep down, I know you're right, and one day I'll appreciate this. Like when I'm 80, and I still look 30. But right now, I just can't see it happening."