Don’t you just hate it when others know things about you that are so secret you don’t even know them yourself? Yeah, me too.
And this time it makes me mad, dammit.
I had a facial scheduled for today. I had to cancel it due to some sort of ummm, rash on my face. I didn’t think the chemicals used in the facial would feel calming to my ummm, rash.
Let me state for the record I never had acne as a teenager.
My first experience with that nasty stuff was in my mid-thirties when my physicians decided to play musical hormones with my body. It had some pretty nasty outcomes. I didn’t grow hair on my face, but I did have to shave the bottom of my feet, and use acne products for the first time in my life.
But thanks to a good dermatologist, better insurance, and a refrigerator that kept the medicine at an optimum degree above freezing, I survived and battled the stuff away. For good I thought.
I have been on hormone replacement therapy longer than I was on natural hormones. Now in my mid-50’s the crap is back. Acne, that is. For almost a year now I have been winning the acne war by using some medicine that is stronger than the stuff they have buried beneath New Mexico. It’s done well too, until the past month.
If it weren’t for my spackle and paste foundation, I could compete with any fourteen year old kid for acne producer of the year. Well, I feel like I could anyway.
I have managed to keep all of this secret from family, friends, the internet and its spies. Or so I thought.
Since you are reading this I assume you are familiar with my blog and the fact that you can leave comments about my writing. You might not know that when you comment I receive an e-mail alerting me to a new comment. Nice system. Worked well until today.
While checking my e-mail a little while ago I saw I had an e-mail alerting me to a new comment. I did think it a bit strange that it was referring to an older post on my blog, but hey, my friend from Texas replies months after I post them, if she can find the previous posts. So it wasn’t all that strange. Well it wasn’t until I read it.
These notification e-mails normally contain the sender’s address and the actual comment they posted. I didn’t see the comment in the e-mail so I clicked on the blue link that is supposed to take me to the comment. Nil. Nothing. No words. Not a thing.
I went back to the e-mail and read it again. Same thing.
Then I noticed who the e-mail was from: “buy accutane online”.
Yup, accutane. If you don’t know, that’s a high powered acne medication. One that does not allow you to eat pizza and if you do your face begins to resemble your favorite pizza from your favorite pizza establishment.
Now, do you think I am naïve enough to believe this to be a coincidence? I am not.
Someone has leaked the information from my head to someone or someplace on the internet. Now, instead of “blind guess marketing” to me, they can “target market” to me and my acne. Oh joy.
I should just wear a big freaking sign that reads, “Hey everyone. I’m in my fifties. I’m out of shape, overweight, and I have acne.” Or I could just remove the spackle and paste foundation and it wouldn’t be a secret for long.
Oh wait. It isn’t a secret now either. I suspect nothing is anymore. If there is anything you want the world to know just send me an e-mail. The spies are everywhere.
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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