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Winning the War of the ZitPosted Monday, October 17, 2011, at 2:38 PM
I'd like to give kudos to myself for at least winning one war, and that is the War of the Zit.
It must have been lying in wait for a while and only chose to make its presence known before meeting people I hadn't seen in years. And I wanted to go zit free.
Facing myself squarely in the mirror, I gave the bugger a little squeeze and proceeded to give myself a welt right under the eye. After searching in vain for a semi-sharp zit-operating tool like the good, old household tweezer, I came upon another solution, chemical warfare: I would smote it for all it was worth. Fortunately, I came prepared for just such emergencies on this vacation where it chose to make its presence known, so I laid down some rules for the enemy zit and me.
Rule One: Let it think you are its friend. That means no more roughness or squeezing. Talk to it gently, if you have to by saying, "Here, zit, zit. Here, zit, zit."
Rule Two: Blast it with zit bashing formulas every chance you get, and I don't mean the cheap over the counter stuff, either. This is war, and it means something viable, practical and sturdy that will not reproduce in a petri dish. If sterile cotton is not available from the MASH, Mobile Army Supply Hospital, then a clean, sterile hand will do.
Rule Three: Monitor the enemy's movements in the mirror for at least the first forty-eight hours. If it is taking over your whole face or has established a good counter offensive, it may be time to go back to the drawing board or up a draw a war map.
Rule Four: Measure it as part of your surveillance monitoring movement. If it is shrinking, then that is a good thing, but if it appears to be growing, then it is time to change chemicals. Some zits have a mind of their own and are chemically resistant.
Because of a good military offensive, mine eventually went AWOL but not until after the meeting when it stationed one last hurrah on my epiderm, so I did what all good warriors do. Eschewing the idea of a concealor because of the potential for flare-ups, I donned glasses and scarves and went out looking all chic and mysterious.
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