Lately I've been thinking about my body a fair amount, resulting in the same old - same old, all too familiar dissatisfaction that I mentioned in my last post. "It's not bad." "It's better than others." "Ugh, I'm so fat." "At least I HAVE boobs." "Have my thighs always been this huge?" "I've got to do something about this." *pinch*
So, naturally, I dove into a container of this:
Fear not, globlets. My mom and I have decided to start going to the gym again. We were going every Saturday while my brother was taking a course at the same facility but since it ended we haven't kept up the routine. I go to school Mondays and Wednesdays so we were thinking of going on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I hope we stick to this. After all, the membership wasn't cheap so we'd better make good use of it. I bet you it would improve my self confidence, or at least bring it up to the level it was at last month.
Another thing, probably the majorest thing, that has brought be back down to my typical "You're rather rubbish" confidence level is my skin. I haven't written about it because I've been hiding it every way I could for years; I've literally been covering it up. Right now I'm scared to say it. I'm worried and I'm not sure why. - That you'll know something personal about me? Something I'm sensitive about? I'm quite certain we're past that, if I accurately recall some past globulations on here.
I think I swallowed some toothpaste.
What I'm trying to say is, for years I've had really bad acne on OH SNAP I ALMOST SAID IT. Okay. Hold on. I'll get it. Okay. Maybe it's heartburn. I'm not trying to change the subject! Oh shit, I do this in real life and now I'm doing it on the internet. Now I'm going to say that I don't even remember what I was going to say and you're going to either play along a little longer or get pissed off with me and then I'm going to feel bad and say, "Oh, I've made it into such a big thing when it's really not big at all." And you're going to think about leaving me until I sigh and begin to tell you that I've had back acne for a very long time.
You might look like this right now: =/ and are in utter disgust, wishing you hadn't decided to stalk me after all. I am so tired of this song right now (Time by Alan Parsons Project). I'm also really tired of the acne. In fact, I got so tired that I (somewhat reluctantly) went whining and begging to my doctor when the acne spread to my most cherished, beloved, sacred part of my body: my décolletage. It was just a tiny bit, but that was just a tiny bit too much. I had it on my back for years and I never wore a tank top without a cardigan or light sweater, but as soon as the shit had the nerve to venture to a place it most certainly did not belong on, I flipped my lid. And then I flipped open my wallet open to reveal my handy-dandy CareCard! I paid $5 for a $65 benzol peroxide cream/gel; bless my wonderful father for having a good job that allows for fantastic medical coverage... at least until this September. Dick. Anyway... I smell nice. Anyway!... Have you ever met anyone so ADD in your life!? Probably someone who actually has ADD, I'm thinking. ANYWAY!...
The benzol peroxide worked although it dried the complete shit out of my skin and upon contact, likely due to a great flaw of mine (having sweat glands), bleached a few of my clothes. But it worked, globlets! It took a couple of months but by the end of that time it was cleared up nicely. I stopped using it. I didn't need it, plus I was advised against exposing it to the sun and it had become summer. My skin was getting nicer still, just with soap and water. I wore tank tops. Outside. With nothing covering my back or shoulders. I wore tank tops, globlets. I wore tank tops.
I was also more confident in myself even when I wasn't wearing anything that exposed my back. It was a good feeling, unlike the kind of self confidence that makes you feel terrible, of course. That changed. I got one. And then I got another one. I felt some more. Now my skin is far less smooth than it was just a while ago and I'm back to cardigans and dreaming of soaking my body in hydrogen peroxide. Hydrogen peroxide, not benzol, because of the positive, badstuff-killing properties of hydrogen peroxide and the negative, drying-out-of-the-skin caused by benzol, although I'm not entirely sure that would work in any case.
I have a few options: One is to do nothing because it won't matter what I do, what product I use, because the acne will come back again anyway and I might as well suffer even longer now rather than dish out money to be temporarily happy and extremely dry-skinned. Another is to go see my doctor, get on my knees and beg for another prescription. I'm not sure how much I'd have to pay after September. The third option, also the option that is growing more and more appealing, is Proactiv. Its base is benzol peroxide, so I'm pretty sure it would work and it might be a lower concentration which would result in less dryness and less bleaching. I've heard good things about it from people I know, people I trust. I worry about how much it's going to cost me, how dependent I'm going to end up being on it and if I'll ever be able to stop using acne-killing products. I reckon my hormones have recently decided to go berserk for some reason. They never tell me why. They just go off and do their own thing, leaving me in the dark, resembling a chickenpox victim. Fuckers.
I feel so attractive right now. At least my hair looked nice today.
It's almost 1 in the morning. I have to tell my phone to wake me up at 9 instead of 8 or else I'll be a twat tomorrow. My spell check doesn't like the word "twat;" therefore, that's precisely what it is. - A twat. I could not live without my twat. I could, however, live without acne, but can I?
If you have an opinion or a fact you want to share regarding acne treatments, please do so. That is, unless you're going to be a spell check about it.