Last night I was violently jerked back to 1992. I am 13 years old and in a panic because my face is covered in the most horrendous explosion of stress pimples known to man. Except I'm not 13 and it's not 1992. I am a 30 year old grown ass woman frantically scouring the skin care isle for magic zit zapper at 10pm. As Aidan would say, This can't be happening! (it's his new favorite expression. he might be a drama major, we don't know yet)
So really, what the hell is happening? With the exception of those awful teenage years, my first 2 pregnancies, and last October, my skin has been pretty clear. Now, all of a sudden I'm going through multiple tubes of blemish concealer a week and refusing to leave the house. My bathroom counter looks like the before image on the latest miracle pimple cream infomercial - you know, where they say Does your bathroom look like this? Throw away the hundreds of useless products and try ours!
This is seriously interfering with my plan to always look put together in our new town.