I have a spot.
In fact, I have two spots, one on my cheek and one on my nose. The one on my nose, however, is of such magnitude that the pathetic effort on my cheek took one look at it and sent out an envoy with a white flag.
This spot is vast. It is enormous. The dictionary definition of ‘enormous’ tells me ‘exceeding usual bounds or accepted notions’. This facial protuberance does those things with gusto. It has its own postcode. If I told you that postcode, I believe you’d be able to see this spot on Google Earth.
I am 37 years old, for crying out loud! Why has my face done this to me? I treat it fairly well – I cleanse, tone, moisturise and all that palaver!
I was lucky in my teens, in that my skin was fine. I always figured that God looked at me and though ‘She’s the size of Venezuela and her mother’s bought her Deirdre Barlow specs – this kid’s got enough to deal with’. But I didn’t realise that the whole acne thing was just on hold – that eventually I was going to look in the mirror and see a Domino’s Pepperoni with extra olives looking back at me.
Maybe I’m over-reacting… ?