(Sept. 9-15, 2012)
This week I noticed I’m breaking out.
This usually entails a close inspection of my face and a barrage of regrets on why I let my skin get so ugly — giant pores, pimple scars, why don’t I regularly go to derma and get these warts off, too oily (well, that’s genetics).
I’m also exploring some new make up from likes Etude, Covergirl, some latest Clinique. But I still leave my facial care to Mary Kay, I don’t know how it kept me looking OK.
I went to YouTube to check out some make-up tutorial to cover up. I was surpised to see that whoa, there are other girls across the globe whose got more problems that I do.
I’m not happy that they’re like that but it makes me a bit more appreciative of what I’ve got. I realized, hey, Chuck, it’s not that bad after all.
I also realized, staying late at night will not be beneficial to my skin.
During the weekend, I consulted a dermatologist regarding my sweaty palms. I’ve been bothered by this since I was young — it’s nothing of my fault, but it’s genetics. She’s probably the third of fourth of her kind that I consulted. Anyway, I was open already to the idea of having botox on my hands. When she saw me, she was like, “Oh, you just need Driclor.” She said that I need to try that first and if things really didn’t improve, then we go botox.
According to her, there were many more worse cases than me, some cannot even stand to be apart from their towels and hanky because the sweat is really dripping. She added that I’m lucky I’ve got resources to remedy it as other like tailors or dressmakers whom she have talked to have no means to get treatments.
She knock some sense to me.
This week I’ve been knock right back into my senses. It really isn’t that bad.