Under The SKIN
After waiting for what seemed like hours in the sterile, impersonal examination room, I couldn’t help but hold my breath as the physician finally opened the door to greet me. I had expended so much energy over the previous five months trying to hope away the infection that had crept onto my forehead (by this point the imposing size of a halved golf ball) that I was almost relieved by the doctor’s initial, though blunt, prognosis.
“Well,” he said, crouching until our faces were mere inches apart and focusing his gaze squarely at the spot above my left brow. “That’s quite the abscess.”
Thank you, Doctor Obvious.
Like many women my age – a proud 35 – I had hoped that my adolescent skin troubles would dissipate with age, leaving me with at least a decade of luminous, dewy skin until the inevitable wrinkles settled in.
As it turns out, my skin had different plans.
From the aforementioned zit gone wrong to a dark patch that appeared over my upper lip (decidedly different from the
