Zits happen…

…but they don’t often happen to me.

This was me on Friday about 2. (I took a picture of myself to document how warm I was after several hours outside.)

And this is me this morning. (I took this picture just so I could show you my zit. Aren’t you glad?)

Ed, who I’ve known for almost four years and who I’ve either been dating or married to for just more than 3 years (a.k.a. joined at the hip with), doesn’t remember my having a zit like this.

It’s a doozy. It hurts. And because it’s right near my lip I bump into it WAY too often.

While many of my friends struggled with facial blemishes throughout high school and college, I’d guess I’ve had fewer than 20 of these beauties in my life. So I’m not complaining. And, clearly, I’m not overly embarrassed about it, as I’m going to share with all of the people the people who read my blog.

But they’re just not fun. And I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with these all that often as a young adult. Or at my wedding. I was just SURE I’d get a zit before my wedding. I probably would have cried. (Embarrassed by zits, not really; a bit vain on my wedding day, completely.)