No, don't go judging, I woke up next to LC this morning. There's no other man. I woke up with a new friend attached to my forehead per se. I seriously feel like I'm in middle school again. You know when you wake up with that horrid pimple on your face for the whole world to see, and you just want to retreat and crawl back under the covers until it's gone. Not the under the skin ones that come when General Krottendorfer comes to make his monthly visit (in case you've never heard that term here's a little history lesson for you. That is what Marie Antoinette would call her "time of the month" in letters to her mother) , the ones that are red and visible and hurt like H-E-double hockey sticks. I mean really c'mon God. I had acne as a teenager. My dermo always said I had a "mild" case of acne. Well, to me, it was like the end of the world. I mean I wanted a clear face like my friends, but I think alot of people with oily skin have had or do have acne. My skin has gotten tremendously better over the years, and well, a lot better than even my college years. I guess when you're not in a smoky bar, dehydrating your skin from the mass consumption of alcohol, stuffing your face with Krystal's (your town may have a White Castle) because it's the only thing open at 4am, and slamming your head on the pillow to just get some shut-eye for a few hours, and don't even care about taking your makeup off because let's face it, that means that you'll only have to do the touch-up in the morning before class so you don't look like a complete wasted face versus waking up early to put make up on to make it appear that you do not look like what the cat drug in last night, then, when you grow up and don't do all those terrible things to your skin, it gets better. Zits sucks. We have to go to a wedding on Saturday; so, let's hope it's gone by then.
Don't forget to check out MRM's giveaway-located on my sidebar. Just tell her Tale of a Southern Belle sent y'all darlins=)