Zit

I have a ginormous, massive, painful zit on my forehead.  He’s hanging out just above my left (subjective) eye.  For some reason, I managed to stare at my fugly self in the mirror while shaving for ten minutes this morning without noticing.  Around 5PM, my Lovely Bride, Di, points this growth out to me over dinner.  Fabulous.

Checking my Fugly Status in the closest available mirror, I find her to be completely underestimating the situation.  This is a zit of epic proportions, apparently triggered by my Army hat’s sweatband.  This obvious correlation baffles me because I normally keep my hats pretty clean.  I vow to make sure and toss that item in the laundry on the next go-round, if my increasing tendency to list to my left doesn’t keep me from getting to the washer.

Anyway, standing there in the mirror, I recoil in horror at this Evil Second Head growing prominently on my expansive forehead (technically speaking, said pate stretches from my eyebrows to the back top of my collar since I shave my head).  My assessment, as stated above: this is epic.  It – the zit – of course only nods casually as if it cannot be bothered at the moment.

Naturally, it is too early to give a healthy squeeze in an attempt to decorate the mirror.  No, this relief is days away, and at the moment it is bright red, festering, and angry.  My only possible “up side” to this is that I can read by it if I happen to be trapped in a well at midnight with a book I have never read before (which is not beyond the pale in my day-to-day experience mind you).

While stressing about it (after all, I spent all day talking in front of my boss and the rest of my co-workers with this miniature Everest on my front slope), Di’s advice was to calm down and wait to address it.  I pointed out that if it got any bigger it would need not only an address but a whole zip code of it’s own.  A Zit Code, if you will.  She was mildly amused by my pessimism, but I know what will happen after I’m asleep and she and My Head Zit have a chance to talk.  This is how I imagine the conversation will go:

  • ZIT:  “Hey, gorgeous, how you doin’?”
  • DI:  “Oh, hi.  I’m fine.”
  • ME: [Is in Full Sleep Coma]
  • ZIT:  “Can I buy you a drink, pretty lady?”
  • DI: [Giggles charmingly] “Oh, well yes, thank you.”
  • ZIT:  “You know I don’t normally get to talk to a lot of sophisticated women like you given my situation.”
  • DI:  “Wow, My Husband’s Head Zit, you are so… deep.”
  • ME: [Full coma continues]
  • ZIT: “Hey, baby, I am.  Word to your mother.  You wanna go back to my place?  Maybe I show you my distended follicle collection?”
  • DI: “Well, normally I wouldn’t, but you seem to have a good head on you.”
  • ZIT: “Heeey that’s what I’m talkin’ about.  Honey, come give me a squeeze.”

You all get the picture.

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8 Responses to “Zit”

  1. TABOOME Says:

    HONEY-I CAN’T BELEIVE YOU WROTE ABOUT YOUR TUMOR! LOL SWEETNESS YOUR NUTS! LOL

  2. Certainly made me laugh!

    • That was my goal. This post was kind of unique in that I started with the core idea (ugly zit) and it just took off naturally into that funny dialogue with all the included double-entendres… or whatever that French word for sly humor is.

      Thank you!

  3. Aren’t you too old to get zits?

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