Battleground “chin”

February 20, 2009

I went for my monthly facial cleaning session today. Well, it’s not really a monthly regular thing yet but I really want to keep it that way. I have very sensitive and pimple-prone face so I need to have a monthly thing for it. Wouldn’t really be a problem if only I’m not unemployed.

About a month ago, I started using an acne gel which somehow worked for me. On top of that I also started drinking this Chinese medicine which helps clean the blood and keeps your face pimple free. I swear it works wonders but I had to stop drinking it for a while until at least… So having to leave the fate of my face to the gel alone, it was holding up well until I had to wear cosmetics for that special day last 10^th of February. I knew it would happen but I didn’t expect it’ll be that extreme. I hate the salon my mom chose. I’ve always hated it but all the times I still end up having my hair and make up done there – prom night, graduation, wedding, etc – thanks to my mom. She says it’s convenient – near to our place and cheap. I swear she’s an avid fan of that old-fashioned salon and just wouldn’t admit it. She might have compromised herself for the convenience and affordability but not me, I’m gon’na find my own, reliable salon that knows when to keep up with the trends and whatnot.

But this entry is not about finding my salon, isn’t it. Going back to the topic, I underwent intense and painful facial cleaning again. I hated that it hurts – it’s the on the hand prime example of the saying “pain in beauty”. You want to be beautiful? Then accept and endure all the pains that comes with it.

My chin had it worst. It’s like having the attack on Pearl Harbor replayed right on top of my chin. My chin is one of my pimple-prone zones. The cosmetic allergy + very little anti pimple maintainer + the facial hair of my husband rubbing on my chin every time we kiss (ah, one negative side effect resulting from learning the art of kissing!), I earned a pimple-full face enough to be a candidate for a painful battleground.

It lasted for about an hour; I’m hopeful but not fully satisfied. Now I have to wait if it’ll be effective enough to last me at least a satisfactorily month.

Then before we came back home, a piece of meat from the siopao I was eating fell off while I was on an escalator. I knew I had to pick it up not just out of courtesy but to spare the piece of meat from being repeatedly tossed and trampled at the end of that machine. It deserves better.