How is it that at my age I’m still getting pimples? I’m not a teenager anymore for crying out loud!

 I used to have seriously terrible skin. I’m not talking about having one or two pimples. I’m talking a whole colony of the ugly little things that invaded my t-zone and made me look like Harry Potter’s Dobby going through puberty.   It’s the sort of thing we say when we’re trying for dramatic effect but as a teenager, I actually did spend nights lying awake and imagining how much better my life would be if I just had NICE SKIN.
  I’d have had enough confidence to be able to take Daniel up on his offer of a date. And talk to my friends without worrying that they were thinking about my pimples rather than listening to what I was saying. I know that compared to many, many other things, pimples are a first world problem. But they are an embarrassing problem that had serious consequences on my self-esteem as a teenager. For two years of my life I made it a rule to avoid general eye contact. That’s not really a great way to live.
  And I tried everything to clear up my skin. I sampled about a thousand different products over the years, including a weird industrial-strength cream that discoloured half of my clothes. I stopped eating chocolate, which for me was kind of like the equivalent of a fish giving up water. I changed my pillowcases every day. I didn’t squeeze. Then I did squeeze. Then I got scars. NOTHING. WORKED.
  It took a looooong time, but eventually, my skin cleared. My hormones stopped their raging benders, settled into old age and started doing things like knitting jumpers and playing Bingo. I felt instantly better. More carefree. Like an inflamed, puss-ey weight had been lifted from my shoulders. (I’m sorry I used the word ‘puss-ey, which is not even a real word.)
  But here’s the truly unfair thing. I’m an adult now and I STILL get pimples. It’s nothing like it used to be but there are still occasions when I’ll go to look in the mirror and BAM, out of nowhere comes a big red bump. When I’ve got bad PMS or am particularly stressed about work – the first place it shows is on my face. WHY?
  I’m no longer a 14-year-old. I’m an adult. In my eyes, it’s the epitome of unfairness. But at least there are now companies that are producing products that actually work to cover up and treat pimples. So I can still dress up, go out and have a great time – without retreating into the hermit ways of my teenage years.
Oh, and all my clothes stay the same colour. Bonus!