Florida Chick Faces the Future

All throughout middle school and high school I had perfect skin. Annoying, I know, but the truth is that I only wore foundation to fit in with the cool girls, and I complained about having to use Oxypads every night even though I usually forgot about them until they dried up in their little cylindrical container. At one point I even wanted to send a photo in to Teen Magazine because they always had the top 5 of the month - best hair, best eyes, best skin, best smile and best profile. I'm not sure what the qualifications actually were but since it was before the time of .jpg files and photoshop, I suppose they just rifled through the pictures of wanna-be Miss Teen America's and voted on their favorites. I suppose that's also why I never got around to sending in a photo - it's one thing to send a photo via email or snapfish or picassa and completely another to take a photo, wait 48 hours for it to be developed at the corner pharmacy (I definitely wasn't going to ask my mom to pay extra for 24 hour development) bring it home, cross my fingers that one out of the 24 roll turned out well, send it in a SASE (A very trendy term also from the back of Teen), go to the post office, buy a stamp and get it in the mail.

A had a slight skin issue a few years ago when I had a few blemishes pop up here and there so I used my sister's Proactive. Came to find out that I am allergic to benzoyl peroxide, and instead of beautiful skin like Jessica Simson and Kelly Clarkson, I ended up with red swollen eyes that I could barely open and a band of red rash that ran across my face from temple to temple - it was like a pink raccoon mask with pillowy eyelids. Needless to say I didn't continue with Proactive, and everytime we see a commercial Kaitlyn asks, "isn't that the stuff that made your eyes swell up all funky?" Yes. yes it is.

Somewhere in the last few years, however, my skin has chosen to rebel. It's not enough that I no longer get carded and that I have to work out just a tad harder than I used to in order not to gain weight, but my skin has also decided that staying clear is overrated, and that I am no longer one of the special few who can boast about never having skin problems. Instead of getting wrinkles (which I'm not hoping for either) I'm getting acne. Not the occasional blemish kind either, but the kind that leaves me with red polka-dot cheeks and hurts to touch...I'm surprised no one's asked me if I have chicken pox. Ok, maybe it's not quite that bad, but my Dominican relatives (I say this because it explains their willingness to discuss my own faults with me as if it was their familial responsibility) have prescribed various remedies all having to do with honey - honey and salt, honey and oatmeal, honey and olive oil. My mom has even mixed me up her fail-proof organic honey and raw sugar scrub...and swears that my skin already looks better...hmmm. I'm not sure that my skin actually looks better, but I do have to say that the scrub is great to use because it tastes so yummy when it melts down my face and into my mouth. Anyway, I figure there's some sort of body karma going on - and just when I think I have something to brag about, pre-middle agehood kicks in and shouts, "just kidding!!"

So anyway, my 33rd birthday is coming up and I'm going to be asking for only two things...clear skin - because really, if I can't be 13 again (and honestly, isn't being 13 once enough?) I could at least ask to look like it, right? And smaller thighs...what the heck, if I'm going to have the skin of a pre-teen, I might as well have the legs to go with it!