So I have this battle with my skin ever since THE NASTY PILL. And I’d like to take this opportunity to encourage people to find other ways of precluding children than taking THE NASTY PILL because THE NASTY PILL - it will wreak havoc on your life. That is it will when you go off it. While this may not be true of everyone, it is for me. And I feel I must warn unsuspecting sweet young women that their life could forever be altered by THE NASTY PILL.
Why all this NASTY PILL hate, you ask? It ruined my skin. Yes. Okay, the lack of taking THE NASTY PILL ruined my skin. Irregardless. Skin before and during THE NASTY PILL = clean and smooth. Skin after THE NASTY PILL = not at all clean and smooth. Oh, not only all the skin problems, but also, it took me 2 years to get pregnant because of all the Whoremone manipulation THE NASTY PILL does so very well. I digress.
Obviously, I stopped taking THE NASTY PILL because we wanted to have children. THE NASTY PILL didn’t take our breakup very well and thereby plagued me with years of “issues” which I will just not share here. Because this is not a good time to embarrass you silly with sharing way way too much personal information. No, this post is dedicated solely to the horror that was/is my skin post THE NASTY PILL. Not at all embarrassing.
When I eventually did get pregnant and managed to stay pregnant (circa February - March 2006), as payback for thwarting THE NASTY PILL’s desire that I not procreate, it cause my poor cheeks (no, not those) to explode into tiny red bumps. I don’t know if it was considered “acne” because well, I just don’t know. But I had some seriously red and angry pores. Every morning they would scream at me until I managed to plug their nasty yaps with loads of makeup.
“Oh, you should have just not worn makeup. That certainly aggravated the problem!” Ah ha ha ha. Thank you for your kind, but completely useless, advice. See, I had this thing people call “a job”. That is one of those deals where you have to wake up and make yourself look presentable for 9 hours a day. My face, not presentable unless well covered in foundations, concealors, powders. You get the idea.
“Why didn’t you just talk to your doctor and get some meds?” Um, I did. And because I was the awesomest pregnant mommy ever, I agreed with him that it would be best for the baby if I did not indulge in any new medications or lotions or $100-tubes-of-stuff-that-don’t-work for fear of harming my little one. Because three eyes would have probably gotten her lots of publicity, but not so many friends at school. I’m sure you understand.
You see, evidently, skin and Whoremones are really good friends. This is unfortunate.
So I waited until she was born. And praise be she was born! But oh my friends, labor is even more unkind to this woman’s complexion than THE NASTY PILL. If that ain’t a kick in the head! Seriously, the least labor could have done was given me clear skin. Labor owes me a reward. Yeah, you think my reward was my baby. Okay, she sorta was. But I don’t think of it that way, because my labor did not actually result in a baby. No, my labor rewarded me with a major surgery. Which rewarded me with a baby. So all this to say, labor did not go well with me and we will never be together again. Every relationship has a season.
I thought perhaps now that I had my precious, beautiful, clear-skinned little baby girl, my skin would calm down a bit. It didn’t. I asked my doctor what he could do for me and said, “Well, you’re nursing. I recommend we wait for now.” Sigh.
Eventually, I stopped nursing. I went in to my doctor, sat down, and when he asked if I had any questions, I said, “Yes! What can you do about my face?!” He wrote me a prescription. I filled it and left with many fewer dollars than I had before. I tried it for several months. It didn’t work. I gave up.
So then I thought I would try Proactive. Because I want to have skin just like Jessica Simpson’s! And they had all those infomercials and pictures of those immensely happy people who had tried Proactive and IT. HAD. CHANGED. THEIR. LIVES. My first kit arrived and I fully expected to be a much changed life in 7 to 10 days. Seven days came and went. No changes. I decided to commit and promised to give a real go. Maybe my skin just needed some convincing. No no. After 6 months, I gave up.
I went back to my doctor. He prescribed an antibiotic and a new, but still expensive, topical lotion. And you can imagine my shock when the stuff actually worked! Worked! I have been such a much happier person when I look at the mirror, because very rarely stuff screams back at me anymore. My Whoremones were/are, at least, unable to punish me with bad skin!
But occasionally one or two nasty little imperfections will sneak in and ruin my week. Can’t hardly cover them with makeup. Though I try. I shellac them in layers and layers of stuff which then makes me look like I have a flesh-toned mountain growing out of the side of my face. A growth is clearly more desirable and acceptable than a zit, after all. I check it out several times a day, making sure it hasn’t shirked all its covergirl covering. And I touch it just to make sure it hasn’t disappeared or at least relinquished its own zip code. Which then turns off the cloaking mechanism and I am forced to reapply.
While for the most part, I’m happy with my current not-flawless-but-improved skin, I am still bitter toward THE NASTY PILL. Even if THE NASTY PILL is my only route to a flawless face, well, I don’t care. I wouldn’t take it. I would much rather sit here and manage my own Whoremones and “control” things in my realm of control all by myself.
And no, I did not misspell “Whoremones”.
Also, is there anything worse than talking about this on the internet? Most likely not.