This is going to be little gross. But first, some context:
I’m incredibly near-sighted. INCREDIBLY near-sighted. I’ve been in glasses since preschool. My numbers are -9 and -9.25 for those in the know, my fellow four-eyed comrades. I start losing clear focus about 4 inches from my face. What I can see within those four inches is magnified…or at least it feels that way in comparison. So when I need to see something in a state of blindness like, perhaps, my face just before or after showertime, I get really close to it. VERY close. So I see it all.
I think you know where this is going.
Despite being over thirty, I have patches of acne, mostly on my beaky nose. And despite the warnings, despite all my past experiences and disasters…I pop. I pop a lot. I love popping. It’s impossible to resist when I’m that close to my face each time I look in the mirror. And I’m not alone. Because as many of you know, you brave shameless souls that have the strength to admit it, popping is OUTSTANDINGLY pleasurable when you do it right. There is a reason zit popping videos are so disgustingly popular. You feel COMPLETE when that release happens, when the semi-translucant white and yellow tendril spins out into open air. And, through time and experience, you learn to seek out the good ones, the ones with true potential. Whiteheads, you say? Pfft. Amateur hour. Few and far between and the aftermath is grisly. Bleak. Obscene. What you’re looking for are those raised blackheads and clear bumps. Those are the ones that get you to the, for lack of a better term, Money Shot.
You see, it’s all about the aftermath. Because for every thirty swollen, terrible, nail-digging crime scenes, you get that ONE. Clean and beautiful, where the pore is visible and vacant. You have to turn your head to the side to see it clearly but when you know, it feels like you’ve opened a portal into your body. And all at once, you become full of hope. Suddenly you believe, from this point forward, things will begin to change. That now, after such a glorious triumph, you can achieve anything you put your mind to. The world opens up, much like that beautiful empty pore, and all is fulgent, majestic and pure.
It’s not just me, right? Right?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have shared this…
Screw it. I’m posting.
Oh and while we’re here, I also pluck the hairs around my nipples. I love that too.
CHODOS OUT!
*Drops mic and walks out*
Today's Workout
Running: 1 mile (traveling later in the day)
DAREBEE: Day 38 of The Hero's Journey
I’m incredibly near-sighted. INCREDIBLY near-sighted. I’ve been in glasses since preschool. My numbers are -9 and -9.25 for those in the know, my fellow four-eyed comrades. I start losing clear focus about 4 inches from my face. What I can see within those four inches is magnified…or at least it feels that way in comparison. So when I need to see something in a state of blindness like, perhaps, my face just before or after showertime, I get really close to it. VERY close. So I see it all.
I think you know where this is going.
Despite being over thirty, I have patches of acne, mostly on my beaky nose. And despite the warnings, despite all my past experiences and disasters…I pop. I pop a lot. I love popping. It’s impossible to resist when I’m that close to my face each time I look in the mirror. And I’m not alone. Because as many of you know, you brave shameless souls that have the strength to admit it, popping is OUTSTANDINGLY pleasurable when you do it right. There is a reason zit popping videos are so disgustingly popular. You feel COMPLETE when that release happens, when the semi-translucant white and yellow tendril spins out into open air. And, through time and experience, you learn to seek out the good ones, the ones with true potential. Whiteheads, you say? Pfft. Amateur hour. Few and far between and the aftermath is grisly. Bleak. Obscene. What you’re looking for are those raised blackheads and clear bumps. Those are the ones that get you to the, for lack of a better term, Money Shot.
You see, it’s all about the aftermath. Because for every thirty swollen, terrible, nail-digging crime scenes, you get that ONE. Clean and beautiful, where the pore is visible and vacant. You have to turn your head to the side to see it clearly but when you know, it feels like you’ve opened a portal into your body. And all at once, you become full of hope. Suddenly you believe, from this point forward, things will begin to change. That now, after such a glorious triumph, you can achieve anything you put your mind to. The world opens up, much like that beautiful empty pore, and all is fulgent, majestic and pure.
It’s not just me, right? Right?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have shared this…
Screw it. I’m posting.
Oh and while we’re here, I also pluck the hairs around my nipples. I love that too.
CHODOS OUT!
*Drops mic and walks out*
Today's Haiku
Scavengers scurry
I’m disrupting their breakfast
KFC splinters
Today's Workout
Running: 1 mile (traveling later in the day)
DAREBEE: Day 38 of The Hero's Journey
Today's Drawing
(Based on the word Lambaste from Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day)
BONUS PICTURE (6/17/17)
(Based on the word Lambaste from Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day)
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