In the past seven days, I’ve been to New York and back. I had tales to tell and ideas to spew forth on the Internet. But I was waylaid by a very strange experience, at least strange to me.
Over the past couple days my face has acquired the texture and feel of a pineapple and the color of a cocktail cherry. It’s most disconcerting, especially since my foundation make-up is no longer up to the task of concealing the problem.
This morning I called my doctor and then went to her office to see what could be done. She determined I’d had an allergic reaction to a cleansing product I’d been using for a year. Now I’m not sure why this sudden response to something that had formerly been benign, but at this point all I wanted was to pinpoint the problem and find a solution. Besides, the paper bag I considered wearing over my head would probably cause as much comment as the condition itself.
I will say this incident has given me an appreciation for what others with skin problems greater than mine go through. After all, when it’s your face that’s involved it’s really difficult to hide.
My doctor gave me some topical creams and made a follow-up appointment for Friday. I went home and began spreading the creams on my face as if they were mudpacks. That was about ten hours ago. Do I see improvement since then? I’m not sure. Do I long for improvement? To quote Governor Palin, “You betcha.”
I’ve never considered myself a vain person, although I did like what this particular cleansing product did to my face. I thought it made me look younger, less wrinkled, less blotchy. But I certainly don’t look younger now. I just look strange.
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