Sometimes I hear what my wife says, and sometimes I don’t.
Most times, however, I hear part of what she says and just go with that. It is
not a safe way to live and/or survive marriage but I’m fortunate enough to have
a very tolerant wife who takes ALL of my many faults with a grain of salt and
still loves me anyway. Yes, most of the time my inability to listen drives her
insane but at certain times the consequences of the half-information that I
ingest affect only me and she can at least laugh about those instances.
This is one of those times.
For whatever reason, whenever the seasons change my body
reacts in a horrible way. My allergies act up, my face breaks out, and I lose
my hair. Well, okay, maybe the changing seasons don’t cause me to lose hair,
but I’ll take any excuse I can get to explain this travesty atop my noggin. Anyway,
those first two items are true and, as a result, right now I look like I am
smack dab in the middle of puberty once again. As if puberty wasn’t hellish enough
the first time through my body seems to relish in reminding me just how awkward
those teenage years were by giving me a good dose of blemishes every year at
this time.
Normally I can deal with this dilemma as I am used to the
occasional breakout, but every once in a while one particular zit comes around
that drives me nuts. It hurts, I can’t do anything with it, and it just sits
there looking large, red, and 100% awkward.
Back in my younger days I would mess with the stupid thing and attempt
to get rid of it until I had essentially bruised the area and made the
situation exponentially worse. These days, by way of a lifetime of dealing with
this crap, I know enough that I can typically wait it out and get it at just
the right time.
I know this.
Sure enough, this fall is no different and for the past week
I have been dealing with my bi-annual breakout. Like I said, I know how to
handle this and am confident enough to deal with a few noticeable blemishes until
they run their course. It’s just what happens to me and I’m fine with it. That
doesn’t mean, however, that I always do what I know is best. Nor does this mean
that I won’t try different things in order to “fix” my problem.
This is where listening to my wife comes in.
Carol has had a long standing theory that works very well
for her in times like these. Her theory is that if you have a zit that is
harboring its nasty little self deep under your skin where you can feel it
almost to the point of it hurting but it won’t fully develop, you can hold a
hot washcloth against the spot to bring it out more in order to eliminate it. I
had always (for no good reason other than it hadn’t been my idea) doubted this
theory and was hesitant to try it. Lo and behold though, after years of doubt I
tried it a while back and it worked wonders. Of course, at that time I was
under Carol’s adult supervision and she had been there to assist me along the
way.
And, as she was giving me the instructions, I didn’t fully
listen.
This brings us to last Sunday afternoon. Ben and I had spent
the morning shopping for his Halloween costume and running some general
errands. Carol was at work so we essentially had the entire day to go on a hike,
play at the park, go to the zoo or Six Flags, or any other outdoor event we
wanted as it was a beautiful day outside. So, as I was sitting there watching
TV in between my morning and afternoon naps I reached up to scratch my nose. At
the moment my finger touched the tip of my nose my entire body jumped at the sheer
sensation of being jolted with about 1.21 gigawatts of electricity. After the
pain subsided and I had changed my now-soiled pants I, of course, reached up to
the exact same spot to put myself through that intense pain once again. Yes, I
had a zit. And it was a doozy!!
My immediate reaction: try to pop it. I quickly went to the
bathroom mirror to look at what I had. The area was a little red but it hurt
like the dickens. Given my history with this I knew right then that I couldn’t
pop it and would just have to wait it out. Being the stubborn ass that I am
though, I had to at least give it one shot and see if I could take care of this
bad boy. Due to the tears flowing from my eyes every time I ever so gently
touched it, however, I was unable to eliminate it properly and had irritated it
even more. Now, instead of just being a little red, it was glowing a bright shade
of red and making my already bulbous nose seem that much more bulbousy.
I knew immediately that I needed to do something with this.
It hurt, I resembled Rudolph, and I wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking
about it until it was gone. There was no way I could wait this baby out. I had
to go back to Carol’s tried and true method of the hot washcloth.
Did I mention that Carol wasn’t home like the last time I
did this?
What Carol had told me as she walked me through the steps
and I had done perfectly the last time was to get a cup of water, put it in the
microwave to heat up the water, and then dip parts of the washcloth into the
hot water before applying it to the troubled spot on your face. Seems simple
enough.
What I had heard, however, was get a cup of water, put it in
the microwave until the water is boiling, and then dip parts of the washcloth
into the hot water before applying it to the troubled spot on my face.
Did you notice that word “boiling” there?
Just so you know and so that you don’t have to find this out
later by trying it yourself, I’m going to drop a little wisdom on you right
now. Boiling water is hot and, whether it is in a pot on the stove or whether it
is on a washcloth that has just been dipped into a cup of said water and
applied to the troubled spot on your face, it will burn you. It will burn you and it will hurt.
As I put it on my face I noticed the pain immediately. I didn’t
think it had hurt like this the last time but, then again, my prior zit hadn’t
hurt like this one did either. After that pain subsided and I felt the water
slowing cooling down, I dipped the washcloth back into the water (more deeply
this time to get MORE water on there to REALLY get the job done) and applied
the soaking steaming washcloth to my face. Yes, it made me tear up a little (a
lot) and, yes, I screamed at the top of my lungs, but I was pretty sure it was
working so I held it there. I held it there and then I did it again. And again.
Apparently, this was dumb
Needless to say, my zit is gone. Yep, I burned that sumbitch
directly off my face. Along with the zit, however, I also burned away a small
chunk of skin which immediately scabbed over and now makes having a small red
zit on the end of my nose seem much more desirable. The pain has subsided and I
am, as of today, able to wash my face without crying, but my massive ego has
taken a shot and I will have this soon to be scar on my nose as a constant reminder.
It will be a reminder that sometimes zits happen. It will be a reminder to
trust my instincts and that sometimes you just have to let that zit run its
course. And, it will also be a reminder that I should never EVER try doing
anything my wife has told me to do without her right there, by my side, giving
me step by step instructions.
She’s usually right anyway.
And, I’m generally an idiot.
