really, don’t be jealous

I have a zit inside my right ear. Do you know how much that bugs me? I’m a scab picker. I know, disgusting, but I’m obsessive about bumps and zits and things on my body that don’t belong there. I want them gone. So, in the recesses of this tiny brain of mine, I must have come to the conclusion that constant touching makes them go away faster. It does not. In fact, it can make it worse. That doesn’t stop me. And now, with the zit in the ear, I want have my hand in my ear at all times, poking and prodding this foreign object that should not be there.

My friend Post last night was telling me how lucky I was that I had clear skin. I told her that it doesn’t do anything for me. It doesn’t get me jobs or get me fired from jobs or win me hearts or help me break hearts. I concluded that while zits are annoying, clear skin really doesn’t matter in life. It’s like a $10,000 bonus check to a billionaire. It’s frosting. “Still,” she said, “I’m jealous.” “Blah, blah, blah,” was my reaction. There is definitely some trading of body parts and pieces that could go on if that were possible.

And then I remembered my gray hair. I may not have zits on my face, but gray hairs on my scalp I have. And they are not not noticeable. I have almost black hair so when a gray or white one shows up it stands out like… well, like a white hair on a head of black hair. And they’re multiplying. And I’m just not down with dying my hair. I love my hair color. I love that it’s natural and you couldn’t produce it out of a bottle or chemical if you tried. And I don’t want to touch my color because a few rouge white and gray ones decided to ruin the perfectly lovely party my hair was having.

And then I remembered that I will inherit my mother’s skin. I have already inherited the clearness of it, next up- wrinkles. I’m not so looking forward to that. My skin is smooth like a baby’s bottom right now. There are hints of crow’s feet, but nothing on my forehead. Botox would be wasted on me. And I love that. But, Post needs to realize that I will make up for every zit I never had by garnering a whole world of wrinkles on my face. I’ll get the flipside, old lady bad skin. I’m OK with it. I believe in aging naturally. I am just realizing that this whole thing I got goin’ on will not last forever. I’m kinda sad about that.

And when Post’s skin is finally clear, I’ll be shriveled with wrinkles and have a head of gray hair. And I probably will just have turned 30. It’s just what life hands you. While I’ll accept it and not fight and not add chemicals or inject botulism in my face, I will have a few mourning periods for the clear, smooth skin and the almost black hair. Because, these are the things I love about my youth and I really don’t want to see go away. And I’m OK with not being that OK with it.

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