There are so many wonderful things about having teenagers in the house. The constant body odor, the tons of food that must be trucked in to feed them and the never ending defiance are just some of the many consolations of having adolescents around. And then there’s the acne.
I admit I am one of those creepy people who gets a real thrill out of squeezing a zit. Go ahead and think less of me than you already do, if that’s possible. But zits fascinate me. Those pulsing red bumps with a white cream filled center just begging to be popped are one of my secret obsessions. I want to squeeze the little suckers between my fingertips until they spew forth a geyser of disgusting pus. Unfortunately, I have really good skin, so I hardly ever get to indulge my sick hobby. I can’t look away from a zit. They hypnotize me. If I am talking to someone with a really good whitehead, I find myself talking to the zit instead of to the person. I want to squeeze.
Enter the teenagers, who have any number of aforementioned bumps just begging for my attention. However, when I get a certain look in my eyes, the children run from me. Cowards. Don’t they know I’m only doing them a favor? No one at school wants to talk to someone with an angry whitehead about to spew all over the place. By allowing me to facilitate the explosion of pus in a controlled setting, I am saving them from social ruin. I have only their best interests at heart. Muahahahahaha!!! Yes, I am a sick puppy!!!
This morning, Napoleon made the mistake of wandering into my lair. He walked over to the sink, picked up a comb and began to groom. I eyed him stealthily and noticed that the whopping zit on his lip had not improved and had, in fact, gotten bigger. And he had an orthodontist appointment this morning. I knew the cute, blonde tech would not flirt with him if he had pustules on his lip. I could envision her look of horror as she beheld it, and then imagined her stealthily handing off his chart to Big Bertha, who was known for using a tire jack to crank braces.
“Napoleon,” I said in my sweetest mommy voice, “come here son.” Obediently he came to me. Ah, the innocence of children. I turned on the hot water, wet a washcloth and slapped it over the zit before he could say a word.
“Owwwwww,” he howled. “What did you do that for??? Ow, owwwww…..”
“Shut up,” I said ruthlessly, “and hold it there. We’re getting rid of that bump.” He glared at me, but complied, holding the rag against the bump. I watched him anxiously, waiting for the moment of truth when I could whip the washcloth away and squeeze with reckless abandon. After a moment, I lifted the rag and saw that the site was not quite prepared. I reheated the cloth and placed it on the bump again.
“Thith ith tho thtupid,” Napoleon muttered through the cloth. “Why canth choo jes leave me alone???”
“Trust me,” I said, “this thing needs to go. I promise I won’t hurt you….” said the spider to the fly!!
Another moment passed. I lifted the cloth and beheld that it was ready. The pus had risen to the surface quite nicely. I was ready to begin the operation. Delicately, I probed the skin around the bump, searching for the perfect place to grip. Then I squeezed!! He howled and the pus shot out like it had been fired from a cannon. It landed on his upper lip. He thrashed around wildly, trying to get away from me.
“Hold still dummy,” I said, “it’s going to get in your mouth!!!!” He continued to fight, but I managed to get the nastiness off his lip. Panting with exertion, I eyed the bump again. Nope, not quite done. I grabbed him before he could move and squeezed with all my might. “Owwww mommy, owwwww, owwwww….” He yelled.
“Just…..doin’…..this…..because I……love you……son…..,” I grunted. I finally managed to empty it. The bump subsided sullenly, unable to inflate itself anymore. I wiped the blood and goo away and patted him on the head. “See honey, doesn’t that look better?” I asked. He glared at me and bolted from the room.
However, the cute blonde technician was happy to tighten his braces. When I came back into the exam room, Dr. Moore looked at me and said “I hear you’ve been throwing boiling rags in your son’s face!!” Fine, I’m somewhat unbalanced. But really, I only have my children’s best interests at heart!!
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April 29th, 2009 at 10:47 am
Who needs diet aides when we have *you*, my dear demented Jennifer?! I’m now terrified to open the fridge door, for fear of encountering the jar of mayo or Miracle Whip and promptly puking on my shoes.
I don’t know if you’re brilliant or evil, or maybe brilliantly evil? But, as I’ve said before, we wuvs you anyway
April 29th, 2009 at 11:22 am
My pimple-popping obsession stems from my mother. I knew nothing about such things until she started hollering at me to hold still because she’d just spotted a blackhead.
Thank God I married a man who loves to enthrall me with tales of how far the splatter patterns on the bathroom mirror from his own zit adventures reach. My only complaint is that he will beg and beg me to express those on his back that are out of his reach, only to whine and squirm like a baby and spoil my fun. I pretty much refuse to help him out with those, anymore.
Shoot, the only time I get anything like a back massage is when he decides he needs to inspect my back for outbreaks from lying out in the sun.
The fact that I worked for 3 years in a health spa with aestheticians at my disposal and free product testing whenever they were bored only compounds my skill at this obsession. My God! You have not lived until you’ve had access to those tiny little, push pin-like lancets that they use! Once I was receiving a free facial after a bad breakup. I remarked that the extractions being performed on my skin felt oddly good. My coworker announced “We’re going to do this Spanish Inquisition style- cleanse you with pain!”
April 29th, 2009 at 2:24 pm
I used to have a loved-one who’d try to do that to me as well, especially the ones that’d occasionally pop-up on my back! Laying in bed and I’d hear, “Can I get that for you?” would send me running away feeling slightly unwell before she would lay a finger on the said-affliction! hahahahaaa.
April 29th, 2009 at 4:32 pm
Ewwww. We do not pop pimples in this house. Oh no, no, no. It leaves scars!
April 29th, 2009 at 5:01 pm
I admit I will pop a zit, but not on someone else. I’m like daisy - not sure I’ll be able to eat after reading this.
April 29th, 2009 at 6:09 pm
My kids know “the look” also…funny how they come programmed to recognize it!
April 29th, 2009 at 8:13 pm
Haha! I squeeze, too. But only my own, which are rare. My 3 boys aren’t zit age yet, but now I have something to look forward to!
April 29th, 2009 at 8:31 pm
My aunt was exactly like you and she was thrilled to see me entering the zit age…but she died shortly there after and never got the chance. I admit, I will pop my own, and I can’t stand to see a blackhead on someone else, but I don’t think I could pop someone else’s zit. I don’t deal well with human blood. Animal blood doesn’t get me but people blood does. When I worked for the dentist and they did an extraction in front of me I turned 10 shades of green and nearly passed out, I fell against the wall and barely contained my stomach. I quit soon after. I’m glad you fixed Napolean before his appointment though, because you are right…zits must be popped by someone!!! No one wants to risk an unexpected explosion!!!
April 29th, 2009 at 8:49 pm
I am a popper too!!! Poppers rule!!!! Cassie runs in fear when I get the look in my eyes!! The joys of having a teenager….we need to find our fun somewhere….the daily eye rolls and drama can really get you down sometimes.
April 29th, 2009 at 10:43 pm
oh I was there squeezing with you. The only problem now is that my eye sight just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I have to have a magnifying glass…my hands aren’t free to attack.
we could team up?
April 30th, 2009 at 5:02 am
Maybe we could form a zit popping posse and zoom around looking for zits to pop together….muahahahahahaha!!!!!!
April 30th, 2009 at 9:01 am
Morale 1: Do not trust mommy dearest when she uses her nice voice!! hahaha….
I’ll pop my own when they are ready, but I had a friend that used to try and pop them (on me) when they were just little red bumps. At least you prep them!
April 30th, 2009 at 10:16 am
I only pop my own. My husband is convinced that you’ll die of some horrible infection if you pop a zit. He will, however, extract blackheads. Go figure.
My mother had a variation on the horrible-infection myth in that you never pop the zits in the triangle formed by the lines along your nose and your upper lip.
Whatever. If I find ‘em, I’m taking ‘em out. I don’t care where they are.
April 30th, 2009 at 10:34 am
Ok, I am really grossed out. I have taken to my own face but just the thought of that pus crater exploding onto me has me shuddering.
April 30th, 2009 at 3:18 pm
Just Me, that was actually in a 17 magazine once. Something like the veins in that area go straight to the brain and can cause an encephalitis type infection if squeezing failed to pop them and instead sent the puss back into your skull!
April 30th, 2009 at 6:32 pm
I get PAID to extract blackheads and lance abcesses, which are just giant zits in painful places!
May 1st, 2009 at 2:34 am
*sigh*
Yet another inkle of proof that we were separated at birth.
I love popping zits. Love it. HG used to manage restaurants - you want a good back zit? Work in a restaurant and oversee a kitchen that hovered at 100 degrees in the middle of winter. Yeah. That’ll do it for ya.
And the abcesses? He had one in his armpit. I drained that sucker. It’s a sickness. This popping thing. I won’t apologize for it though.
Perhaps that’s why he felt the need to orate while the doctor drained my wound two weeks ago. Bastard.
May 2nd, 2009 at 10:36 am
Oh man, I am so glad I’m not the only person who does this. I wait until my fiance is incapacitated, then I pounce. Sometimes he whimpers, sometimes he shrieks, but that damn zit always gets popped. Although I’ve noticed he passes me in a hallway with his back to the wall now. And he scampers.
May 5th, 2009 at 3:11 pm
Ok, I just bumped into this page accidentally and now I’m grossed out. Probably more so than if I’d entered an over 65 naked volleyball photo blog.
May 5th, 2009 at 3:14 pm
Yes but now you are strangely intrigued Roxy….and just maybe, the next time you see a pulsing, throbbing whitehead on someone else’s face, you will feel a terrible and overwhelming urge to squeeze it!!!!
May 6th, 2009 at 6:33 am
I have an overwhelming urge to squeeze YOUR head off Jennifer, because you haven’t posted in so long.
May 8th, 2009 at 10:24 am
Was it just me that had a montage of you popping zits synced up with that 80s song “Obsession” by Animotion? Works, doesn’t it?
…….Kind of?
Still crazy?
AWESOME! No go forth and post more dear Jen!
May 8th, 2009 at 11:43 am
OK…are you laid up in the hospital with some horrible life threatening infection that you got from popping the pus laden zit??? You missed First Communion for the Goddess becasue you were in ICU hooked up to IVs and life support??? You would communicate with us but you’ve got a feeding tube down your throat??? And those stupid O2 monitors clipped to your fingers??? OK, since that is the situation I guess we understand why you still have us looking at squirting pus after all these days and haven’t posted anything new. Our prayers are with you! Best wishes for a speedy recovery!!!
August 14th, 2009 at 10:49 am
WOW..that is so messed up. HAHA I love all the details you give you really do have a twisted inner self
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