When a zit is a crisis

As usual for this time in my gross girly cycle (between two weeks and one week prior to the actual event) I'm snarfing chocolate like it's my only true sustenance, something I can liken to a vampire's need for blood after being denied for too long. Also as usual, I've sprouted a few blackheads. Most of them remain fairly innocuous, smaller than a pinhead. (How many angels can I fit onto my zit?) Every so often, whether it's stress or not enough water or it gets an irritant in/around it that makes it get infected or whatever, one grows large and red and I'm stuck with that on my face for a couple of days.

Thankfully that hasn't happened this time around. Yet. I'm crossing my fingers.

Mark's 19, right? So far his appearance has been perfect. Well, he's under a lot of stress, something awful just happened, a party is coming up, and although he takes very good care of his skin in recent days he's had to wear massive amounts of makeup and his wash schedule is all off.

So I thought heh, let's give him a zit to cope with prior to the party, on top of everything, and he can do the classic freak out. Because as anyone who has attended on a wedding knows, it's safer to freak out over a zit than the event itself, therefore, the zit will get all the attention, a scapegoat upon which everyone can heap abuse and curses. The zit won't fight back. The zit can be declared evil incarnate, while the real problems can be ignored.

At least for the moment ...