Toxic

On Friday, I got a facial (at a spa, not from sex). My right cheek was bustling with oily activity and after the squeezing and zapping of clogged pores, I felt fresh.

But then I looked in a mirror.

I had one dark dot on my face that quickly transformed into a massive brown mark. I assumed it was a bruise because my face took a pretty bad beating from the facial, so I put ice on the sucker for two days.

No change.

Upon closer examination, I noticed a fleck of skin on the mark, and so I peeled it off.

Bad idea.

Raw, pink flesh was uncovered. And so I realized that this was no bruise. The amorphous dark brown mass was a scab, or some weird kind of dead skin. I feel hideous and am embarrassed to walk outside because I look like the poster child for domestic violence.

Daisy told me I should sport it like a birthmark. I wish I could, but I opted for a pathetic alternative. Now I'm rockin' a band-aid on the face like Nelly.

Good skin is so, so important girls and boys. Take care of it. Drink water, moisturize, and use sunblock. From now on, I'm going to value the skin I live in and treat it with respect.

30.

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