I'm Coming For You Next Noxema Girl

Facial hair has never been something to brag about among the men in my clan. It's very slow to come in and at when it does, it's quite pathetic and scraggly. With the exception of some not so impressive sideburns, I try to keep it squeaky clean, otherwise I just look (and feel) like a beast who should be in hibernation. The amount of hair on my chin seems to be porportional to my energy level, the more that's there the lazier I am. Recently though, maybe just because I'm getting older, my stubble has gone into overdrive and I have to shave almost every day.

I don't know why but I've been getting these major pimples lately. I'm not talking about a rash of random red bumps. It's like the ones in high school that emerged after I ate an entire TripleXL pizza. Or something called the Chocolate Bandito from Chi-Chi's Mexican restaurant. They are of the blaringly-obvious, couldn't-hide-it-with-makeup-even-if-the-light-was-dim, nerve-altering, hurt-filled ilk. If I hooked my face up to a seismograph I think they'd have to alert FEMA and issue an evacuation.

For me they've always been connected to food. Since I don't eat junk food anymore I'm not sure what's causing them. Maybe it's stress? Or perhaps I just drink too many smoothies to make things less stressful.

Because of this recent insurgence of increased stubble production and unruly activity under my skin, it's been a bit...tricky shaving as of late.

They (being the newly formed mountains of pain) seem to keep only to the areas on my face where I shave. When they emerge I don't shave for a few days hoping they'll just subside like they usually do. It hurts like hell to shave when they are around and I don't want to accidentally entice any fresh wounds. Or would that be flesh wounds? Pardon my Engrish.

However, thanks to the new and improved Faster-Harder-More! attitude my follicles have adopted, a hair or two will inevitably start burrowing up through the core of each dermal anomaly. I had a couple yesterday that were driving me close to certifiable. Piercing and gyrating from the inside out, the hairs irritate these invaders that have made their home where a fine goatee should be instead, to the point I want to take my face to the nearest electric cheese grater and let it have it's way with me.

I couldn't take it anymore. Since it being desperate times and all, I switched out my razor fitting it with a shiny new blade and with the skill of a faux-samurai I began to attack. They never stood a chance. There was bloodshed. There was pus. You could hear something akin to violins screeching in the bathroom. In the end, I slightly resembled an extra in a student-grade vampire film until I could get enough toilet paper to patch it up. Then it was more like a zombie flick. It did take while for it to stop leaking.

Yeah, it's a bit gross, but I find if I'm going to be a whiny bitch I may as well revel in it. I could go on about my earwax debacle but I think maybe you've probably had enough of my bodily functions for one post.

On to the next ailment!

Peace,
Simon