Oxy Moron

As far as I know, I haven’t been invited to a homecoming dance and I don’t have a biology test in the morning.  But my face seems to think otherwise.

I have zits.  Plural.  ZitSSSSS.

My chin looks like a small cluster of stalactites have started growing in the southern hemisphere and just northeast of there, I have what appears to be a small mountain range forming next to my nose. I’ve been avoiding them all week.  I thought if I ignored them, they would go away.  Until today.  I was applying makeup when I noticed that I kept turning my head to the right and making sure my chin was in the downward position so I could focus on my good side.  Stupid 15X magnification mirror!

Adult acne.

Two words that should not be in the same sentence.  Puberty occurred 35 years ago and it appears that someone forgot to send an invitation to ACNE, so after stalking me all these years it finally caught up to me.  Now it knows I’m post menopausal and I won’t have a clue how to get rid of it.

Fortunately, thanks to the divine virtual world I’ve uncovered a cure…or at least what I hope is a cure.

Apple cider vinegar.

Last month I had ring worm.  After Tom took away the hair brush I was using to scratch myself, I consulted the various medical discussion boards and found out that bleach will take away the itch.  To my relief it worked.  I spent 6 weeks smelling like a hospital, and in spite of the layers of skin I lost and the extensive plastic surgery I’m going to need, I got rid of it.

Now I’m emitting the aroma of salad dressing.

Yep.  My husband is one LUCKY man.

Uninvited guest.  Initial conclusion.  Going nowhere.  Civil war.  Great Depression. Bad luck.  Same difference.  Strangely familiar.  Silent scream.  Perfect idiot.  Problem solved.

Dumb blonde.  Almost exactly.

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