I thought I was over this

You know, there's certain things you expect to happen as you get older. For example, being 32 years old, I expect to not get carded at bars, restaurants and stores when I buy liquor. Of course, it's a bonus when I do get carded. It's even better when the lady swiping my gallon jug of Margarita mix at the grocery store goes, "You're only a couple years over 21." Then eyes me suspiciously and waves for my ID.

Yes...I'm about 10 years over 21 but thanks. Now swipe my limes so I can go home and have some alone time with my boyfriend, Jose Cuervo.

Yet one thing I thought would go away hasn't.

Yes...I have Mount Vesuvius on my chin. I have a fucking zit that is MASSIVE. It's not one of these cute ones that you can hide with a little Benefits Boi-ing! either. I know. I've tried. It only announces itself more by saying, "Ha ha bitch. You tried to hide me and now I'm just going to make it look even more obvious that you have extremely clogged pores."

IT'S HUGE! It's before and after Proactive picture infomercial worthy.

I could pull the hand over it and on my chin like I was really pensive or I have a bad toothache but that only makes people ask What's wrong? Then I have to show them and make them run in horror or lie and I'm not a very good liar. There's no getting over it.

I didn't have this as a teenager. Why on earth did I have to be blessed with uberacne at 32? My hormones should be balanced and leveling off in preparation for the impending menopause. Oh no! I reverse course and dive head long into my teenage years of horrid skin and eating junk food. Next I'll be listening to boy bands and praying that Terry Shane calls me to let me know that if I don't go to prom with him he'll die. LITERALLY. DIE!

Okay, it's not that bad but still, I'm not above getting some Clearasil.