Not Me, Not There, Not Now!

Bad news for every 14 year old on the planet: I did 14 41 years ago and I've been going to school work with a pimple on the tip of my nose all week. This is prom week here in my home town. I'm not going this year but it serves to remind me all the more of the trials and tribulations of pimples. That's right, zits. Those nasty little bacterial eruptions with an uncanny ability to show up and pitch a tent right there on your front lawn at the worst possible time.

In adolescence I was one of those fortunate ones who didn't have the struggle with acne. With whatever issues I was strapped as a teen, bad skin was not one of them. Nonetheless, there was always that rogue blemish that would ride into town every now and again and start a campfire right there on my forehead, between my eyebrows, or on my nose.

One hopes, expects, and believes this problem will evaporate with time but I'm here to tell you otherwise. Worse still, not only does that angry rogue outlaw still ride onto my facial plain every once in a great while, the effect is still the same: I go to work feeling like a hapless teen. You sit down with a patient and immediately check to see where their eyes are focused as we talk. "Are you listening to me or just looking at my pimple?!"

Not that I'm insecure or insufferably vane, but a zit at my age can still be perceived as a physical manifestation of immaturity, a sign of an underlying refusal to grow up, of one's persistent denial of responsibility, evidence of chronic uncontrolled adolescence and bad diet. And with my bio, it can sometimes be difficult to credibly refute the evidence! I definitely don't need this kind of help.