What Would You Change?

Do you remember, a year ago or so, when I said I had started using the Oil Cleansing Method as a part of my nightly skin routine?  Well, I did, and I still do. 

 

I probably don’t do it exactly right.  Because we have kids and I don’t want them to inadvertently scald themselves at the faucet, we have our water heater set to 120 degrees, so I can never seem to get a really hot washcloth to steam out my pores every night.  Oh, sure, I could walk down to the microwave, and I used to do that, but bottom line? I’m lazy, and once I take my contacts out, the stairs become treacherous.  What?  You think I should put my glasses on my oily face?  Come on, that’d be worse than goopy baby fingerprints.

 

Speaking of, do you know what NEVER washes out of a white shirt?  Banana.

 

So, anyway, my skin when I’m pregnant is glorious, which is great, because we all know my ass reaches whale-like proportions.  I guess every woman gets at least one break during pregnancy.  Maybe your thighs stayed nice and firm, but your nose widened or now you pee when you sneeze.  I got huge, but I also got nice skin for nine plus months (the postpartum hormones kept things pretty clear, too).  It’s a trade off, is what I’m saying.

 

Welp, it’s all over now.  I have once again become the textbook example of “adult female acne.”  No really, it’s a thing.  And I have it and I hate it.

 

I was talking with Tony a while back and I said, “You know how you play that game all through adolescence and then early adulthood of ‘what would I change about my body’?”  And he didn’t know.  About the game, I mean.  Okay, it’s not really a game, it’s a way for teenage and twenty-something girls to feel badly about themselves in a group and point out all of their glaring, obvious flaws to their supposed friends in a twisted show of who-has-it-worse one-upmanship (why do we do this?).  I guess boys don’t play this game.  Good for them.

 

I told Tony that I had finally figured out what I would change.  All the times I thought about this before, I think I always said my legs.  But the truth is, these legs carry me everywhere.  And yeah, I have big ankles, large feet, big thighs and wide hips, but it all works.  My legs are strong.  Tony likes my legs.  I am a mom, and my legs allow me to chase after these kids.  They bruise easily, but that’s okay.

 

Really, I’ve come to the point where I feel that way about any and every part of my body.  This body has borne my children and has fed my children.  This body has served me well and continues to do so.  It is rarely ill.  It doesn’t break easily.  I like it, it’s mine.  Besides, who’s to say that changing something about myself, something so significant as my hips or legs or feet or whatever wouldn’t have changed the whole course of my life?  I like my life, I love my husband, kids, and dog, and I wouldn’t trade them for the sexiest legs of all time.

 

I finally figured it out, though.  My answer in that game.  I would change my skin.  I would get rid of the acne.  It causes me stress.  It causes me grief.  It embarrasses me.  I’m almost thirty-one (thirty-FUN!) years old and I have the skin of a teenager.  I’d love for it all to just go away.

 

The oil cleansing method works fine, and honestly, I think my skin is in better condition than ever before.  I rarely, if ever, get blackheads anymore – cleaning with oil takes care of those little suckers completely.  I don’t overproduce my own oil, so I’m not as shiny as before.  And who knows?  Without the oil cleansing, things might be worse (in addition to having all those blackheads).  I know that my skin felt awful when I used all sorts of harsh “acne control” chemicals on it before. 

 

So I’ll keep on keepin’ on.  I probably won’t seek out professional help for my acne due to money and time and an unwillingness to undergo longterm treatment for it, but I will keep hoping it disappears.