These little pimples of mine, why won’t they go away? These little pimples of mine, why won’t they go away? Go away. Go away. Go away, away, away.

It started with a mysterious itch on my back. As I bent my arm around trying to scratch it (NOT itch it. Please stop saying that!) I noticed a couple of other bumps. Then, as I ran my hands across my back, searching for more of these bumps, my fingers eventually landed on the back of my neck, my chest, and then my face. I explored and found more of these bumps only to arrive at the realization that I was…breaking out?

Now don’t hate me, but I was one of those lucky people who didn’t have to deal with acne as a teenager. Don’t worry, I had plenty of other things to be embarrassed about and I may or may not have bled through my pants a couple of times and only realized it when I noticed a blood stain on my chair on two separate occasions.

But, isn’t that whole breaking out phase supposed to be over after high school? What the fuck is this?!

(I know, major #firstworldprobs but fuck!)

I’m angry at my body for betraying me. We had a good thing going. I inherited good genes that keep me looking younger than I really am and my skin wasn’t flawless, but it wasn’t bad. I guess you could say I had a good run, but I didn’t expect it to end like this.

After making the terrible discovery, I did what any normal person would: I picked at them. All of them. Then, I stopped. But, then I started again. They’re taunting me. I’m using more concealer than ever before, so now it’s costing me more money? I wonder if I can write this off as a business expense. I mean, I have to look presentable when I interview people, right?

I put milk on my face. I put mouthwash on my face. I put on an acne product that made my eyes burn. Is this my punishment for eating pizza for breakfast and ice cream with potato chips for dinner? (Just kidding, I’m totally an adult.)

So, today I learned that adult acne really is a thing and not just a myth because it’s happening to me and I fucking hate it.