Friday night, the right side of my chin became red, very splotchy, and VERY painful. In … about a 1 inch diameter. Now, don’t hate me (because I’m beautiful), but I don’t get zits. Not really. I am blessed with my mother’s gorgeous skin. Once in a blue moon a small delicate zit may make an appearance along my forehead, and once in like, every 5 blue moons I may get a real doozy on my nose, but generally speaking, zits stay away from me.

So this eruption broiling and festering DEEP DEEP DEEP below the surface caused me great anguish.

Zit cream was purchased. Squishing commenced. I know! I know! You have to WAIT to squeeze a zit! There is a proper time and place, and while it is still broiling deep under the surface, that’s not the time! You have to wait until the lava of pus and goo make an appearance on the surface, in the appearance of that little white head. But in the evening, as I sat on my bed peering into my 3x magnification face mirror (lighted! every woman needs a mirror like this), I could NOT HELP MYSELF. I poked. and I squished. Just a little bit. Then I faithfully dabbed on my zit cream and went to bed.

As I said, I don’t get zits. And the size and magnitude of this… this…. well, I just have to come out and say it, I am forced to believe that this was an alien life form that had somehow gotten under my skin and was incubating there until the mother ship gave it the signal to erupt and take over the planet earth, … this THING that was happening to my face, I was convinced was not a zit. I told James approximately 1,376 times over the weekend that I was going to have to see a doctor about this, where I was positive they would have open it up, excavate, and then re-terraform my face back to it’s normal appearance.

James scoffed, laughed and said, “It’ll be ready to pop in a day or two.”

Monday dawned. Columbus day. We were awful parents brilliant people and took the kids in to school while taking the day off for ourselves and wandered around museums in DC. The pain had faded a bit, I’m sure because I finally was firm with myself to STOP SQUEEZING IT ALREADY! and the full 1 inch diameter had shrunk down. The THING was now hard and concise, like a dried pea under the skin. I felt vindicated. This is NOT A ZIT. NO ZITS BEHAVE THIS WAY. I called my mom and of course, explained to her in great detail my facial disfiguration, and she immediately said, “Go to the dermatologist.”

I immediately turned to James and said, “HA! SHE AGREES WITH ME!”

By the end of the day, he finally admitted that he agreed with me too. This was no run of the mill zit we were talking about.

I was pretty sure it was something caused by an ingrown hair.

So long story short (TOO LATE!) I went to a dermatologist during my lunch hour today. They gave me an injection (can’t remember what it was. steroids? cortizone?) right into the little incubating alien (they called it a cyst caused by either a pimple or an ingrown hair, too similar to tell) and prescribed an oral antibiotic.

I can’t wait until the little guy is aborted already and gone off my face.

I also wish I had taken a picture of my face every day since it started. I thought of doing that, but then dismissed it as being too gross. I should have just done it, because now I want PROOF OF MY DISFIGUREMENT. It’s a little red now, but ever since Monday, doesn’t actually LOOK that scary (not like it did Saturday, oh MY). Also, just looking at me, you can’t tell there’s a hard little pea under the skin. That kind of grossness is a tactile experience.

anyway.

I just thought I’d fill you in on the first dermatological visit of my life. I have to go back in 3 weeks to make sure the alien is gone.

I’ve named it Fred. Please join me in wishing Fred to evacuate the chin area… permanently.

.. At the very least, let’s hope he leaves before the mother ship gives him the signal and planet earth is dhoomed.