Oops! I Think I May Have Over-Exfoliated
The last time I exfoliated with a facial scrub, time got away from me. I’m a sucker for mindless repetition. I got into a rhythm, zoned out, then the next thing I knew, I was exfoliating my raw, fully-exposed cheekbones to a gleaming polish. At some point my arms must have drifted down because I started exfoliating my neck, then my shoulders. Soon, I could see my whole heart, lungs, and stomach through my pearly-white rib cage.
At first, I was ashamed of my mental lapse and its ghoulish result. I tried watching makeup tutorial videos to learn how to give myself my old face back, but no amount of foundation can do that. I tried building a new face out of clay but I couldn’t stand the heat of the kiln. I tried hiding my entire head within a hoodie. All that did was make me look like the grim reaper. Nothing I did could disguise the fact that I just scrubbed my flesh clean off my body in one trance-like exfoliation session.
Speaking of which, I’ve been taking my skin for granted all these years. Skin is like the shrink wrap around the ground beef you get at the grocery store. Remove it and you’ve got a nasty meat mess on your hands—literally, in my case, since I have to use my hands to hold in my organs. For awhile I tried to play off the looseness of my organs as a cool new trend. Let me tell you, there’s nothing cool about your innards exploding out of your gut all over a customer at Subway. If not for the sneeze guard, I’d have lost my status as a sandwich artist. We had to throw out a lot of salami that day.
There some days I wish I’d used a less abrasive facial scrub or hadn’t zoned out for the better part of a morning, tearing away my skin and musculature. It’s toughest at parties when drunk people try to play my ribs like a xylophone.
Despite a few hardships, I can’t say that I hate it. It’s a nice look. All my life I was worried about having poor bone structure, turns out I just needed to lose a few pounds of flesh to let my cranial geometry shine through. Sure there are downsides, like how I’m constantly frightening people when my ghoulish visage suddenly appears rounding the aisle at Whole Foods. But I’d rather focus on the positives. I never have to deal with blemishes again, which was kind of the point of all this exfoliation when you think about it. There is the occasional chip or fracture when I bump my head on an open cabinet, but I’ll take a cracked skull over a gross pimple any day. Besides, would you trust someone with a pristine skull or someone with a real lived-in skull? Exactly.