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Sloths: Nature's Muppets.

c'est la vigne

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Day 715:

Okay. So. After my last post, my face pretty much exploded. No, for real. The whole damn thing puffed up, then got all gross and grainy, then the grainy parts kind of ended up being, like, chock full of teeny-tiny whiteheads, then I peeled like a sonofabitch, and then I was left all broken out. Basically, my face was FUBAR for, like, a week and a half. It sucked. I was miserable.

My tube of AHA is now off in some dump somewhere. I don't care where, as long as it's not anywhere near my face.

Never. Again.

Anyway, I've been coping with the after-effects of my little "experiment" for a while now. I had to cut way back on my BP while my face was all whacked out, and then I had to slowly work my way back up to a full pump at night. I think I've been back on my normal regimen for about a week now, and the breakout's pretty much cleared up.

Now I just have to deal with the PIH.

I've been using my trusty extra virgin olive oil, and the marks have faded dramatically. Of course, it doesn't help that I'm constantly picking at them and making them all pink again, but I can't help it! There are layers of dead skin on them, and, as gross as it may be, I feel compelled to pick at the dead skin, revealing fresh, pink skin underneath.

Basically, I'm making the healing process take longer than it should. Damn it.

But, I'm still healing really well. I'm actually pretty excited at how fast these marks have faded. They went from being bright red and horrible about a week ago to being faintly pink tonight. At this point, I feel confident that I could easily cover them with a dab of concealer if necessary.

I'm hoping that my skin will be totally healed up by the 30th, because my boyfriend's aunt is having a "deck-christening party", and I said I'd go. (What kind of party would it be if I didn't bring my delicious cucumber sandwiches? I mean, really.) So, yeah. The prospect of hanging out with about fifteen of my boyfriend's family members is terrifying enough, but having to do it with crappy skin is just flat out anxiety-attack inducing. So I've got my fingers crossed that my skin will work with me on this one.

(Hey, maybe if I keep my fingers crossed for the next twelve days, I won't be able to fuck up my skin any more. Hot damn, I'm a genius!)



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