Pimple Juice and Life

Over the last few years (ever since I briefly used Proactive. Evil product.) I have developed two spots on my chin where I consistently get cystic pimples. If you don't know what those are, they are basically a giant buildup of pimple juice under the surface of the skin that turn into cysts, or hard masses that need to be drained, but mine always come back. If my sister is reading this, she's probably gagging by now. Sorry, Christina.


I have a bad habit of trying to pop these pimples, which is pointless because they are so far under the surface of the skin that all it does it create a giant scab on the surface where I have damanged the skin trying to squeeze out the toxins. And no matter how long they last or how good I am at not touching them, they always come back in the exact same places.

Since being pregnant I haven't gotten them until this week. I guess the hormones are good for something other than inducing Hulk-like rage at the drop of a hat, or at least they were for awhile.

I have this device that I purchased from Sephora (cue angels playing harps in heaven). It's a "blemish extractor with lance". Basically, you use one end to push out blackheads, and the other end you use to stab white heads and drain them. Glamorous, I know, but it works pretty darn well. I decided to use it on one of my cystic pimples last night, which I have only tried once before.

I have been letting these things sit, unmolested, on my face for about two weeks now. I haven't tried to squeeze them once. They suddenly got very red for no apparent reason other than the sickening heat that has descended upon the north state. Apparently all they needed was a good stab.

It hurt, as stabbing yourself in the face tends to do, but as soon as I did it there was an audible release of fluid, air and blood, and the asshole pimple automatically started to drain. Again, sorry Christina. It was glorious. There was an immediate feeling of release of pressure in my face and I got that sick satisfaction that I always had as a child when I would pick off scabs. Maybe I should have been a dermatologist, I don't know.

Seeing as I have been super lazy and haven't unpacked all my bathroom stuff yet, I had no pimple salve to put on my newly excavated pore, so I used hand sanitizer. It burned like hell, but today I am left with a smooth, slightly pink spot that should heal by the end of the week.

Why am I talking about pimples? Because people will read anything. I bet you thought there was a point to this. Well ok, there kind of is. I was reading a fellow blogger's post about her life being filled with ghosts of her past, and for some reason it made me think of my nasty skin conditions. So I guess my point is that if my friend could just find a life lance and stab her metaphorical pimple ghosts with it, all the nasty shit would probably just drain out on its own. And then she could douse it with some 98% alcohol solution and they would just shrivel and die.

........Don't judge me for this post. I'm pregnant and therefore slightly mentally crippled.