This is a terrible shock.
Well, I barely know how to go on. My Mom, my beloved, kind sweet MOM, whom I looked to for the most important guidance of my life….that woman actually and deliberately TOLD ME A LIE.
It was a bad one, too.
Sure, she raised me in safety and love. Sure, she fed us and kept us clean and entertained us. Yadayada.
She still LIED.
I remember it so very clearly. Mom and I were standing in the bathroom in the house where I grew up. I was looking in the mirror. I was HORRIFIED, I tell you, just HORRIFIED.
I think I was thirteen. I had big brown eyes and nice thick dark hair. I was, to be honest, kind of cute. But: I had my very first ZIT.
There it sat, right on my chin. Big, and red and ugly. How, I asked Mom in despair, how can I ever go to seventh grade tomorrow with THIS on my face?
It is hard to describe the panic and disgust that I felt as I stood looking at my horrifically deformed face?
My Mom, she of all wisdom and grace, put her hand on my shoulder. I remember her chuckling a bit, and telling me this:
“Don’t worry, honey. People have acne between the ages of 13 and 19. Then it’s all fine.”
That was true for HER. Her skin was perfect. Her hair was perfect. Her freakin’ fingernails were perfect. She probably had two zits in her entire life.
I, alas, was not so lucky. I remember trying desperately to pop a zit on my cheek when I was about 16. I failed. I was left with a HUGE, red, pulsating, crater on my face. I tried to cover it with makeup, but I remember that when my family arrived at my Grandparents’ house, my Grampa took one look at me and asked, in his Italian accent, “What happened? Did a cat scratch you?”
I have yet to live that moment down with my sister.
Here I am. I am sixty-six years old. My mom died in November, and I am still missing her every day.
This morning I went into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror.
WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK IS ON MY FACE?
There it was, right next to the wrinkles, the dry spots and the gray hair. A giant, pulsing, red ZIT.
I am old. I have arthritis and fibromyalgia and back pain and not one, but two brain tumors. All of that sucks, but not as much as HAVING A GIANT ZIT AT 66!!!!
I am enraged. I am furious.
Mom said they’d go away at the age of NINETEEN!!!!
I am not happy.
Can you seriously be in the hospital for your old lady brain disorder and have a young intern say, “You know, I have something for that huge zit.”?