“Are you freakin’ kidding me??” I said aloud as the show faded to commercial. There was no way this was real. There was no way this woman seriously meant what she said. Did I really hear that right? Was she drunk?
I sat in disgusted awe while what I just heard sunk in. Why did I watch these silly daytime talk shows? What kept me around for the segment on home remedies when I couldn’t care less? Why did I have to listen while they talked about things from getting stubborn stains out of clothes to taming a dreaded inconvenience such as acne?
I have dealt with acne since the first signs of puberty. Lovely bumps of red, itchy, inflamed pimples all over my face. Not exactly the thing you are looking forward to once you start to notice boys and boys start to notice you. I have tried all the creams, pills, masks, and medicated pads on the market. To no avail, I am still riddled with the wonderful parting gift of my childhood. I have heard, and been called, all the names in the book regarding this unpleasant ailment and it seems “pizza face” is the best people can come up with.
I had always said that I would do anything to rid my face of the tale-tale sign of bad genes, but this? At this point I was definitely rethinking the idea of doing anything. Naturally my ears perked up when I heard that they were going to enlighten the world on how to tackle the very thing that I had fought against for the better part of 15 years but when that crazy woman let the word urine come out of her mouth, I about fainted. Urine? That was her answer? Not just any urine, but morning urine. The kind that stinks the most and is the strongest, the kind that you save up all night and can’t wait to flush down the toilet. I am supposed to rub that on my face daily and in a short time find myself with the clearest skin since I was a wee lass? How, in the name of all things holy, is that possible? She suggested urinating on a wash cloth and patting it on the infected area. She also suggested leaving it there for about two minutes. Waiting two whole minutes with pee on my face? Dear, God! I don’t even like it on my fingers for two whole seconds!
Another question that came to mind, if I decided to go along with this cockamamie idea, was how in the world was I going to explain my new look? Sure I could just pass it off as a new cream on the market but it won’t end there. There will be more questions to follow including wanting to know the name of this new found wonder cream, how much it costs, or if it burns. I started running scenarios through my head.
“Wow, Steph, your skin looks incredible! What have you been using?”
“Um, well, just this new stuff I, uh, heard about on TV.”
“Really? What is it?”
“Er, just this stuff.”
“Wow! Is it expensive?”
“Umm…no, not really.”
“Awesome! What’s it called?”
This is where I get stuck. What do I say? Do I make up a name like Urinia or Uritopical Ointment? That won’t work. That just sounds ridiculous. Next will be the question of where I bought it. Do I make up a place? Did I get it on the internet? Did I get it at Herman’s House of Happy Pores? Cripes, there is just no good way around it.
Live with zits, or spread urine on my face. Decisions, decisions.