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.