I am 38 years old and the acne has returned in full, ugly force. Heretofore, I have never had much of a problem, even as a teen-ager. My skin has always been pretty clear and the occasional bump I get is usually at my hairline. Sometimes I will get the dreaded, excruciatingly painful, eyebrow zit, but at least it’s hidden.
But a few weeks ago, there was an eruption on my chin. It started with this huge bump that was under my skin. It was not visible to the naked eye, but it bugged the hell out of me. So I started messing with it. Because after all, bumps are meant to be squeezed. I squeezed and squeezed and nothing came out. There was no relief to be had. I applied hot compresses. I massaged it and spoke to it gently. But it was not giving in. All I succeeded in doing was irritating the skin all around it and making my chin look like it was sunburned.
Finally, after several hours of hard work, a little goo oozed out of it. Emboldened by my success, I continued to pick until I had a giant, gaping hole that scabbed over with a brown crust. Guess I was better off with the invisible bump!
The next week, another bump appeared, on the opposite side of my chin, but beautifully aligned with the first bump. Symmetry in acne is so important. This one hurt, unlike the other one, so I figured it would be easy to eradicate. Wrong.
Because this was no ordinary pimple. Oh no, this was what I like to call a PORNO ZIT. Because when I squeezed it, white goo shot out across the room. This was the John Holmes of the pimple world. The more I squeezed it, the more the goo flowed. No blood, just white goo. I finally quit when it was too painful to continue.
So now I have a giant red bump on either side of my chin. And John Holmes is not done erupting yet. I got up this morning and there was even MORE white goo in it. I attacked with a vengeance, applying the hot compresses, squeezing with great vigor and the goo flowed. But as I write this, there is still a tiny white head in it, even after all my efforts. John Holmes will not be tamed.
Have you ever been out, maybe at the Wal-Mart picking up your Acutane prescription, and run into an acquaintance with a zit? Maybe someone you don’t know too well, but you still have to acknowledge him or her. And you find yourself talking to the zit. You are unable to make eye contact with this person because there, on his face, is a zit that makes John Holmes look tiny. It pulses with evil life, its white eye glaring at you from the red center.
You try to look away, but it’s a train wreck. It’s so gruesome, yet so compelling. And as you talk, you find your hand inching toward it, desperate to relieve the zit of its disgusting burden. What would happen, I have often wondered, if you just reached out and popped it? Just reached right up and squeezed for dear life? I guess you would come to your senses, after you’ve been booked for assault, and realize you should have just handed over your Acutane bag and walked away.
So anyway, if you see me out today, please try not to stare at John Holmes. He knows he’s large and ready to burst, but he’s not quite done with me yet!