Career Change
For a while now, I've been considering a career change: policeman, photographer, builder, gardner, anything that would be a complete change from my current work, something fresh. Today, I realised that I could create a totally new role: Zit Farmer!
Okay, it wouldn't really make me much of a living but I could win awards for sheer size. Currently, I have managed to cultivate two - one just under my mouth and one on the side of the bridge of my nose - and both would rival Rudolph's nose on a foggy night!
That just gave me a mental image of flying through the air being whipped by Santa...very disturbing!
*shudders*
AAAAANYWAY! Spots. As you've probably grasped by now, these aren't the little ones that can be executed by a little squeeze and a quick face wash, and I'm not talking about the face-volcanos that explode over the mirror with the slightest squeeze and a satisfying crunch - graphic maybe, but you know what I'm talking about.
No, these are the ones that you can feel building under the skin with the itch that can't be scratched, and then grow so big you can see them in your peripheral vision, taunting you, beckoning you to squeeze them. "Go on," they say, "you know you want to...".
Bastards.
And its when they're at their peak, that you meet someone you find attractive and the only response you get from a smile and a greeting is the sound of running footsteps disappearing into the distance.
Oh well. Will have to try the toothpaste trick.
Okay, it wouldn't really make me much of a living but I could win awards for sheer size. Currently, I have managed to cultivate two - one just under my mouth and one on the side of the bridge of my nose - and both would rival Rudolph's nose on a foggy night!
That just gave me a mental image of flying through the air being whipped by Santa...very disturbing!
*shudders*
AAAAANYWAY! Spots. As you've probably grasped by now, these aren't the little ones that can be executed by a little squeeze and a quick face wash, and I'm not talking about the face-volcanos that explode over the mirror with the slightest squeeze and a satisfying crunch - graphic maybe, but you know what I'm talking about.
No, these are the ones that you can feel building under the skin with the itch that can't be scratched, and then grow so big you can see them in your peripheral vision, taunting you, beckoning you to squeeze them. "Go on," they say, "you know you want to...".
Bastards.
And its when they're at their peak, that you meet someone you find attractive and the only response you get from a smile and a greeting is the sound of running footsteps disappearing into the distance.
Oh well. Will have to try the toothpaste trick.
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