Confessions Of A Pimple Popping Maniac

I have a shocking confession. Are you ready? It’s kind of gory. I suppose I should be ashamed, really. Here it is: I love popping pimples. But it gets worse. Not just mine. I've been known to launch myself on my friends and family to attack some abomination that they were harvesting on their face. When it comes to zits, I forget all social and personal boundaries. I can’t help myself. I get tunnel vision. And I can’t shake myself out of it until I have decimated the spot disfiguring whose ever dermis. Apparently (though I haven’t seen any evidence as of yet) I adopt quite a feral and psychotic expression when I spot an unsuspecting blemish.

See how relaxed she is? Bah to my dramatic detractors!

My mum always went on and on about leaving the spot alone. “You’re going to scar your face,” she would threaten (and still does for that matter.) “You’ll only make it worse.” I know, Mum. I understand all of the risks involved, all of the unfortunate side-effects of my little hobby. But I simply can’t stop myself. Blocked pores are my enemies and I am a dutiful soldier in this Pimplepocalypse. Apparently there’s hypnotherapy for people like me. My question is why is it okay for dermatologists to do it and aestheticians to remove blackheads but my mum tells me I can’t? It’s just not fair [insert childish foot stomp here.]

Some dermatologists want you to (if you’re going to do it anyway) actually pop the pimple with a sterile needle. Where’s the fun in that? There’s no exciting eruption, no satisfying popping noise. But I suppose they know best, right? I won’t say I follow this guidance. I love the thrill of the hunt as it were. However, I know the art of timing. You can’t attack the foreign invader too early. You will only annoy it. One must be patient and strategic. Of course, you can speed up the process with a hot compress reapplied throughout the day. For me, I just know when it’s the right time for optimal explosive results. And you can’t just go to town on that badass bandit. Oh no. A gentle pressure applied on either side of the beast is necessary, working the poison out. Squeeze too avidly and you've got yourself a nightmare of a blemish (that probably won’t yield any exciting results down the road.) Why spoil your fun? Just go slow and steady. Observe its progress as it rises to the surface. Remember to wash your hands as well. There’s no point pushing more dirt back in.

You could also invest in a De-Pimplefier, a term I coined about twenty years ago when I bent and reformed an old metal clasp from a barrette into a gentle rounded zit-terminating master implement. I thought I had been thinking way outside the box when I developed that one. The professionals call these extraction tools comedones. I think my name is far cooler, but regardless, the point is they do the job with great success and avoid a lot of negative side-effects. They’re also reasonably priced in many places.

I could wax poetic about this for quite a while but I’m sure you’re all delirious in disgust and I’m sure I've plummeted in your estimation of me and my sanity. Ah, well. Like Oscar Wilde once said, “I can resist everything but temptation,” and those pore-cloggers tempt me something fierce. My point is that, sure, it’s great advice to leave your spots alone but if you’re like me and you can’t stop yourself, you do have options. You just have to go easy on the little beggars.

Life Without a Professional Makeup Train Case? Not Worth Living.

I got THE BEST PRESENT EVER this past Christmas. One I’d been coveting for ages. It's not an iPad, or an engagement ring, or even a killer jacket. It's better. It was love at first site.

Warning: Heaven within.

The makeup train case I've been pining over for 15 years is finally mine. I dropped hints over time (and subtle as a sledgehammer, I am) but to no avail. Until this Christmas when Ash heard me going on about it again and she decided to put me out of my misery. One cold December day, she got into her car and set off on her own journey to acquire my more awesome than awesome present.

Every girl needs a train case. I know that’s a bold statement, but that doesn't make it any less true. I've explored the world of makeup since I was fourteen. I’m 31 now. Due to my addictive personality, I immediately set forth on an epic cosmetic journey, gathering and sampling as many different products as I could. This has always left me in a quandary of where and how to store it all in some semblance of order.

Enter years of numerous wasted attempts (and wasted money) on different storage methods. I tried a selection of cosmetic bags, an array of little boxes, numerous divided storage containers, dresser drawers, Ziploc bags, tea light holders for my eyeliners, and the list goes on. I was never ever content with the result. Really, it was an organized mess! Most of the time, I just forgot about what I had until it dried out and was unusable. It’s true what they say, out of sight, out of mind.

So there I was, sitting on Ash’s floor beside the Christmas tree, having been presented by a rather large, beautifully wrapped box. Naturally I tore into it (I’m a demon for prezzies) only to find an unmarked cardboard box. I didn’t know what was in it, but I made short work of that too in order to reveal my own personal holy grail. I won’t lie, I nearly cried! I had finally, thanks to Ash, achieved one those life goals. I now had a professional makeup train case in my possession. Hazah! There it sat in all its black and silver glory, with lovely little latches, and to my surprise, an extremely handy bottom drawer for all of my brushes. Truth be told, my initial reaction was to excuse myself from our Christmas party and drive home so I could get started on the organizing. I somehow refrained.

I’ll tell you though, the day I did sit down to the task was wonderful! I tossed out all the old dividers, cosmetic bags and Ziploc’s. They were nothing more than a hindrance. I freed up so much space as well. Admittedly, I could use another one for my lip glosses alone, but there’s always my birthday! I love opening it and everything is just right there before me. There’s no searching and rifling or forgetting. And when I’m finished, I just close it and lock it back up and it’s tidy and clean. No clutter at all! Ash has expressed fear of buying me things over the years (she claims that I’m overly fussy) but she shouldn't have been nervous about this one. This was top-grade, blow-me-out-of-the-water brilliant. I can’t see another soul being able to top it. It delights me every day!