PIMPLES!?!?!

Okay, so I have a black eye, again!

So I go to my doctor, this Hot Indian Chick, and she's like "Hm, ... head trauma?"

And I'm like, "Okay, whatevs," take the prescription meds and prayed that was that.

It wasn't. My eye got worse and worse. So I go back to my Dr, and she's like, "Oh, ... it's worse!"

And I'm like, "... yeah!"

And she's like, "Here, take more meds, ... do you want to see an opthamologist?"

I'm like, damn straight!

Even though I'm not, but you get my drift.

So I go to this ... Dr. and she's like, no joke, late 50s, 60s even, and she's like: New England, very no nonsense, very pragmatic, very tall and willowy, elegantly dressed, dignified, beautiful.

And she said a lot of things, and I was like, "Huh?" and wiped the drool off my chin and wondered if she wanted my phone number, you know?

But I digress.

And then she said it. "You have a ..."

And she said a bunch of other things, about clogged, get this, oil ducts?!?!

And she said a bunch of other things, but all my brain heard was: PIMPLES!

And I almost screamed: "DO I LOOK LIKE I'M TWELVE AGAIN?"

But I didn't, because she would have given me that withering, mothering, New England look and asked me: "Wait ... you're older than ten?"

Yeah, that kind of day.

And she gave me a regimen of medications, one, taken orally, twice a day that induces vomiting as a side-effect.

Great.

But so, okay, they're called something or other, and it's because I have very fine, delicate, tiny pores that got clogged, a lot of them, all at the same time, and, okay, now listen to me, to prevent that from happening, you wash your eyelids with warm-hot soapy water and then you put hot compress on your eyes, every day.

Okay. So. Yes. I take good care of myself, but it's back to high school for me and my acne treatments ... WHICH I DID ALREADY, BUT HOW COME NOBODY TOLD ME THIS AND NOW I HAVE PIMPLES IN MY EYES!!?!?!

And I get to take meds that make me puke. Bonus.

Girls. Hot-warm soapy wash your eyelids and hot compress after, or face death by embarrassment when I have to tell everybody I know that, no, my 'husband' didn't punch me, ... again! ... I just have pimples in my eyes.

Great.

I'm going to bed ... wake me up after I'm done with adolescence, please.