Apologies for this image, but come on: it’s amazing.
(Also you have to go read the article I found it in right now.)
Let’s put aside the disturbingness (by which I mean amazingness)of that image up there for a second. We have to have a discussion about my face. WHAT. IS GOING. ON.
On Sunday afternoon Kendrick picked me up at the airport, and around bedtime I complimented him on his restraint, because the fact that he hadn’t brought up the situation on my face for an entire half-day was an impressive show of willpower.
“You can tell me,” I said. “It’s bad, right?”
“Well,” replied my (very diplomatic) husband. “…Maybe you look a little broken out.”
That, my friends, would be the understatement of the century. I look terrible. And I have looked this way since November 9, 2016, when all of my election-related anxiety made itself known via a single pore on the left side of my nose. Next, it checked into a pore on my forehead. And then decided to take up residence in one on my chin. OK, five on my chin. And all those Trumples*?
They are still there nearly a month later, and are they are welcoming more friends to the party every day.
*If you’re not familiar with the term, a “Trumple” is a pimple that is Donald Trump’s fault.
I like to maintain a little mystery in my marriage. You know, to keep things hot.
Trumples are clearly not the most glamorous subject in the world, but I’m pretty sure I’m not alone my desire to address them, because they are total assholes who need to be put in their place. Regardless of your political affiliation, I think we can all agree that this past month has been an emotional roller-coaster, and I can’t tell you how many people I’ve talked to over the past few weeks who have, over the course of our conversation, confessed that they’re not sleeping. Or drinking too much. Or – yes – breaking out like fourteen-year-olds.
I’m not writing this post to whine (or, ok, not just to whine). There’s even a positive side to it: breakouts mean you get carded, which – after age 30, at least – is super fun! (Lying. Getting carded was the worst when you were 18 and continues to be the worst when you are north of 30, because when you’re an Old you forget your wallet in the diaper bag wedged under the passenger seat of the car and can’t remember your birthday because you also can’t remember the last time you got more than four consecutive hours of sleep, except you really need the Safeway checkout dude to hand over the wine now please and thank you because that child who will not let you sleep is also driving you to drink Cupcake Chardonnay in astounding quantities because Cupcake Chardonnay makes being exhausted better.)
No no: I’m not writing this to whine. I’m writing this because I need your help. I typically operate on the desert-ish side of the skin spectrum, and virtually every skincare product in my arsenal is geared towards intense moisturizing or anti-aging. But right now what I need is…I don’t know, actually. Spot-treatment? Masks? …Toothpaste?
Last night I located a sample of a Korean clay mask that’s been kicking around my drawer for months, and that has gone unused because clay tends to tighten up oily skin (and “tightening” is the last thing I usually need). It did actually help quite a lot – and sent me down a rabbit hole of checking out this company’s products (a bunch of which are in the widget below) – but still: I’d love to hear any product recommendations that you have, because I think I’m starting to scare my FedEx guy.
Help me not scare my FedEx guy?
