that's disgusting

on sunday, during dinner, my cousin of 6 yrs old asked her dad surreptitiously, "deem guy biu goh mo sai di uhm chong geh?" (why doesn't herman have pimples anymore?), to which he replied in Chinese, "he was hungry so he squeezed them out and ate them all."

that is a myth. someone was hired to squeeze them out for me. though i was hungry (because i was not to eat seafood or beef or other yeet hay - hot air - things), the extracted pimples were not eaten.

throughout grades 8 to 11, i proceeded to acquire as many pimples as i could (not that i wanted to, but it builds character). my mom became quite worried about my face so we went on lots of trips together to doctors of Western and/or Eastern medicine, trying out fancy topical creams, acid peels or herbal potions (bitter tea) that contained the dried out husks of some round, brown insects amongst the twigs and sprigs. nothing worked to any sort of satisfaction until we went to a beautician who had emigrated from China.

many hours and days were spent at the little clinic with me lying on a massage bed that had been converted to a regular bed, listening to soft, flutey elevator music while my face was steamed, pimples were picked or squeezed out with a pick/loop, then my face was covered in thin strips of gauze soaked in a medicinal liquid while an electrically charged wand was rubbed around my face before a good hour and a half under a heat lamp with my pimpled areas stippled with tiny acupuncture needles.

turns out that i have pear-shaped pores; the openings are small while the recesses are bulbous. that, coupled with genetics, hormonal imbalances, poor diet and sleep habits resulted in several layers of super duper pimples. after about 2 months of procedures, my face shrank noticeably. after the 3rd month, they decided that i needed some blood recycling (i have no idea why), so at the end of each appointment i would have some blood drawn from one elbow and reinjected into the other. i didn't really bother to complain or ask why because i was having so much fun already. no, it wasn't really fun.

now i look back on it after 4 years and i am thankful. not simply because i would ruin fewer pictures (i can ruin them perfectly fine with or without ugly) or gain self-confidence (too much of that already), but because all those hours of discomfort and pain and embarrassment bred much patience and humility and gratitude in someone who wasn't naturally born with those things.