Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Teenage angst

When I was a tenager, I got a lovely problem that every teen gets at one time or another. Acne. I, however, lucked out and got cystal acne. It was worse than most people's, but better than some. I suffered with it throughout highschool and university. Through my twenties and, surprise surprise, into my thirties it comes.

In highschool, I dealt with comments from everyone. From guys who were jerks. From girls with porcelin skin and raven hair who looked at me with disgust and contempt. I wore my hair super long for 10 years so I could cover my face and keep most of the mean or rude comments at bay.

When I was that age, a lot of how I felt about it was a direct result as to how my family dealt with it. You would think that since zillions of kids each generation had it, that someone would tell someone else how to not be a jerk about it. I couldn't not wear makeup even to the dinner table at home for fear it would be the subject of all conversation between my parents. I can't escape it, even to this day.

Today I am sick. I feel like crap and I feel murderous and cranky and like bursting into tears. I don't want to have to wear makeup in my own house when all I want to do is hide from the world and try not to die (or alternately kill someone). When I am sick, my immune system is battling icky things so it doesn't do such a good job keeping acne at bay. Thus, I have a few cysts that look pretty yucky. Dad walks in the door to bring his dogs over and deliver some orange juice. And he says "Oh your poor face". Uh huh. Guess what? That doesn't help.

It isn't just him. Although today, that is what set me off. It's lots of people. Little kids who don't know better. Stupid jerks at work who just think they are funny. Strangers and whatever. Lots of people. And all I want to say is SCREW YOU. It doesn't help me. In fact, it does little but make me feel worse about myself. And I don't need your help for that. It hurts my feelings and makes me revert back to the awkward and ugly teenager I was. Would you love it if every time I saw you, I pointed out your flaws? The thing that makes you feel the worst about your self? How about it. Next time I will just say things like "Oh, your poor stomach fat" or "Oh, your poor stretch marks" or "Oh your poor rotting teeth". Because really, in my head, it's about the same.

I'm not hideous or covered in boils. I can be quite attractive (something I realized in the last 5 or so years) but this is something that I hate about me and I hate that I have to deal with. (And I swear to GOD that if any of you make comments about how pretty I am or how much you love me anyways, I am going to go ballistic on your heads and not speak to any of you ever again. This is my rant. Shut the hell up.) I'm just saying that considering I am dealing with worrying about my mortgage and my biological clock, I wish I could get rid of the acne issues.

10 comments:

  1. Dudethisposthasmeshakinginmybootsbutmanyourock.

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  2. let's invent something together that cures acne, and will make us rich.

    that way, both of us will have beautiful skin, you can pay off your mortgage, i can pay off my line of credit...you can buy a baby, and i can buy a sports car.

    sound good? have your people contact my people.

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  3. ...and why "buy" a baby when you can get take one for free!!! ;)

    K

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  4. You forgot to add "Oh, your poor female facial hair."

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  5. I know what you need. You need to get your book back from me, "Possible Side Effects'. Sweet Saskatchewan Surfing it's funny. And the writer is just like you, too. Except he's a guy. And swears more. And he's gay. But funny!

    If you can read the Tooth Fiary story and not see yourself, or the Cowcow story and not see the puppies then nothing, not even supper, and a bathtub of warm chocolate with Boreanaz can help you.

    So get on me about finishing the damn book and getting it back to you.

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  6. Me too, especially where I have to pluck out the big black whiskers. Ingrown facial hair = hot as shit. I feel for you because my grandfather once looked at my face during a clearer period and said "now you can get a boyfriend!"

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  7. K: You're right. I'd way rather just take one. Then I can pick and choose.

    Ky: Awesomeness. It goes on my list.

    KB: I'm sorry, I got distracted somewhere around a bathtub of chocolate and David Boreanaz. I will read the rest of your comment later.

    Schmutzie: I'm so glad I'm not the only one. Your Grandfather's comment made me spit my juice out on the table. Ah, family.

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  8. *slowly backs away from post*

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Crap monkies say "what?"