Laundromat

Earlier today we spent some time at the local laundromat washing two duvet inserts because our washing machine is a wuss that can't handle them. While there, Julie looked at one of her Tech class's lessons on Powerpoint, I took some pictures (when people weren't walking through, because I'm shy like that--they have seen crazier things but I don't go out of my way to bring attention to myself in public places) and then read some in my book.

These are the pictures from today...and a very long story that you might want to spare yourself from--about the story of my skin and how it obviously is related to Satan.

This is the haircut and the face that is hopefully getting better from the new meds I'm on. Monday we went to the dermatologist (We: I don't go anywhere alone that involves examinations and rooms that have evil hidden needles lurking about, wimpy or not I don't care). It's not a secret that I struggle with awful skin and have for a long time...seeing as it's written all over my face---pun intended. But it might be unknown about how much it bothers me and how it's the number one thing I'm self conscious about and don't find enjoyable being discussed over tea and crumpets. I almost never feel non-self conscious about it or stop wondering if someone is just looking at me...or LOOKING at me and thinking awful thoughts.

It's funny really because it's almost as though people over the years haven't given it much thought...I say this because I've had (apparently shitty friends) over the years who have ACTUALLY gotten snippy about not wanting to go clothes shopping or this or that because I was the SKINNY one and they were not and were struggling and self conscious about their weight. I never EVER said anything mean to them or flaunted my so-called skinniness in their faces, but simply bought clothes! I never yelled back at them and told them that while yes they did have a weight problem, I had a face problem that I hated just as much as they hated their problem and I had to carry it around in front of me every single day and look at it just as much and probably be stared at more because of. It was ironic that their skin was flawless and I felt ugly and they assumed that because I was skinny that I was perfectly happy with every aspect of myself and that I ABSOLUTELY could not relate to them. Ignorant assholes I guess, or self involved delusionals perhaps. Anyway, I turned 30 and decided I better give the dermatologist another chance because while I was hoping things would get better, they got worse...why I was being an optimist during that time I don't know. Hormones must have done some different things because my skin started doing things it hadn't before...instead of just bumps it turned into dry, REALLY DRY--bumpy, red, patchy places. Retribution was in order. Dermatologist appointment went well and now we are in "try this and see mode." Hmm...SORRY that is a long story I could have made very short...Hate skin, always have, always been bad...now have pills and cream to try and take care of it...and I'm once again trying for hope and optimism. :)