Fred

I have a zit on my forehead that I have decided to name Fred.  Fred is large and red and well, disgusting.  He seems fond of my forehead and will not go away.  Because he will not leave he has enjoyed every freaking product known to man that is supposed to get rid of friends like Fred.  I have tried them all.  I even have been desperate enough to Google zit removal ideas which led to fun things like Visine, toothpaste, warm towels and steam showers.  Fred seems to like these things even more than the standard store bought methods of removal. 

So, I have decided he is hanging around for a while.  I have since employed a plethora of cover up techniques.  From the cheap drug store brands to the expensive "don't tell my husband I bought this" products.  No luck.  Fred likes to be seen.  He somehow manages to work his way through everything I have thrown his way.  And quickly.  Within minutes there he is shining away. 

Fred and I have been to battle and he has won.  I give up. 

And along this route I must ask, how it is possible that I went through my teens with very little acne issues only to get pregnant and have my face explode in full teenage angst?  Why do I have winkles AND zits?  How did my hormones change so much that my skin is now completely horrible?  I can deal with the weight gain and the fact that my feet grew a 1/2 size so all my old shoes didn't fit any more.  I don't mind the fact that I have a scar (although I could do without the c-section "pooch" thank you very much) and I have found a few killer bras to help with the saggy boob thing.  But my skin?  No bueno.  I would kill for my pre-pregnancy zitless pores. 

Fred and I are going to sleep now.  He has been bathed in a very special concoction tonight that promises to get rid of "those pesky pimples before the big dance the next day!"  Yes, I have resorted to pre-teen acne treatments that I put on before my night creme and eye cream to combat the wrinkles.  Ain't life grand.