I went to the grocery store today and got two looks.

Now, normally this would be a thrilling thing. Normally, two looks would get me through until my next birthday. But unfortunately they weren’t “that” kind of look, (you know, the look you hope to get when you actually fix your hair for the first time in a month?) they were the other kind. Not really a look, more like a horrified stare. Why? Because my friends, I have a zit.

This is not one of those easy to hide little monthly bumps that periodically visits my chin, this baby is Mt. St. Helens, circa 1978. And it’s right next to my nose, the focal point of my face. It’s so big, I think it actually has five heads, and they’re all staying just below blast off range. The skin is stretched so tight I think I might actually get stretch marks.

And as for the looks, there’s a double take, then there’s a double zit take. With the double zit take, the gazer kind of squints one eye and tilts his head to get a better look at the crater in the center of your face. Then he quickly looks away and pretends like he wasn’t just staring down the view from Kilamanjaro.

It’s easy to catch them, because they’re so busy staring at your zit they don’t usually realize you’re looking at their eyes.

It almost made me wish I’d worn a padded push-up bra just to distract the greater public from my pimple. (Frankly, pimple is far too kind a word for this bad boy.)

And so, out of complete and total desperation, I decided five minutes ago to pull out the Windex. That’s right, I’m going to try a Big Fat Greek Trick and put some amonia on this baby.

I’ll keep you posted. And no, I’m not attaching a photo.