It is the week before my period and my skin is a cesspool of hormones. I think that my period is trying to feast on my face. I have one of those hard, painful, swollen cystic pimples on my chin. It is about the size of Idaho and is strongly considering annexing Montana.
Nothing I do will stop this growth. It will get larger and harder and more terrifying. I know that one day it will explode in a threatening shower or puss pyrotechnics. The oil and fluid leaking from this zit will flood the streets of Seattle. A scab will cover my chin where it will flake and bled repeatedly making camouflaging it with cosmetics impossible. I will not be able to stop picking at it.
I have elaborately daydreams about popping this sucker. I fantasize about using tweezers to pierce any head that forms. Puss will explode onto my bathroom mirror--the moneyshot of zit picking. It will be disgusting and bloody and oh so very satisfying.
I can't wait.
Meanwhile, I think I will just wear a bag over my head.