THE RED MENACE

Did you ever get a zit that wanted to set up permanent residence on your face? I’ve got one right now and I’m having a heck of a time getting rid of the fucker.

It pitched a tent and set up camp some time late last week. I noticed it at first as a small red inflammation on my right cheek, about an inch below my eye. At first I ignored it and figured it would move away. Most of them do when they realize the property value sucks and the taxes are too high. But this one was determined. It started to become more red and swollen, and hurt to touch – so I gave it a good squeeze. But my squeeze was premature, it turns out, because, as Geri informed me, you’re supposed to wait until there is a whitehead before ejecting the contents of a zit. Who knew there were rules? My squeezing it had not produced anything other than increased swelling.

What had started a minor blemish soon became a major life impediment. I went to a wedding Saturday and had to explain why I brought two dates: Geri and the massive red growth that was clinging to my cheek like a newborn shrew suckling its mother. Can you believe it actually had the nerve to ask for a second helping of saurkraut? I think there were more photos taken of my skin visitor than the bride and groom.

For the next couple days I followed the advice of armchair dermatologists everywhere by leaving it the hell alone. Except for when I put a little medicinal acid on it to burn it off. Yeah - desperate times call for desperate measures. Geri handed me a little green cosmetic remedy that she said would dry it out in no time. I dabbed a little on and felt it tingle and burn, so I knew it was working. The next morning I woke up to the sound of my zit building an addition onto the side of his house. It was bigger and redder than ever.

But I refused to touch it, going all day Sunday ignoring it – denying it the attention it so desperately wanted. Finally, on Monday morning I broke down. Scratching the surface a bit, I was able to peel away a thin scabby later of skin that had formed over it. In some way I felt this was progress, only to discover that underneath that layer the zit had been digging the foundation for a swimming pool. This was war!

Last night Geri suggested I get it looked at, as she thought it may have become a boil. I didn’t like the sound of that at all – especially since I had no idea what a boil is. Is it a mega-zit? Is it cancerous? Will I need surgery? Does a boil have anything to do with a clam bake?

This morning I woke up hopeful. I avoided mirrors as long as I could, imagining that by doing so it would get bored with me and vanish out of neglect.

When I finally broke down to dab a little gel in my hair, I saw it was still there. A little pinker, and a little less swollen – but glassy now, and without a center. I’m beginning to fear this bad boy has decided to put down roots. So now I’m off to the drug store to buy something Geri called “zit cream.” I’ve never really had problems with zits before, so this will be a new experience for me. I really hope it ends well because it’s impossible talking to people with a zit this size demanding so much attention. It’s like he’s standing there on my face with a bullhorn shouting at people:

“Don’t listen to this asshole – look at me instead! I’m shiny and red, just like a Christmas Ornament! Aren’t I disgusting?”

I have only just begun to fight!