A Short Anecdote About a Zit

“What’s that?” She said, pointing to my left cheek.

“Oh, a pimple.” I said, irritated. “Young people have them once in a while you know.”

“Don’t squeeze it, it might get infected.” Nanay adds, missing nothing.

Too late. I tried to pop it last night, but I only succeeded in making it redder and more swollen. “Why did you squeeze me you idiot?” It screamed at me as I inspected my face in the mirror.

I rarely get pimples- probably just twice in every semester. Yup, one during the midterms, and one during the finals (that would be next week, thank you). The main cause is stress and lack of sleep.

I usually get two types- one that pops easily and the other whose roots are a lot deeper, and the infection stays a lot longer. What I had this time was the latter. This one stood out like a red flag on my cheeks. With a pimple this big, I was lucky it didn’t grow on my nose- people would think I was Rudolph’s long lost brother.

I dabbed a drop of Benzoyl Peroxide on the flaming spot, ruffled my hair and left. I was already late for my afternoon class…