Laura and the humungus spot

Since I last wrote, I have become hideously disfigured by the arrival of acne vulgaris. Or in layman's terms, a massive, pulsating monstrous beast of a spot.

It all started rather innocently about a week ago, when I noticed a small red dot to the left hand side of my nasal passage, approximately a centimetre above my top lip. I was peturbed by the small blemish, but was able to render it invisible with my concrete like make up.However, over the following days, it grew at a most alarming rate and by yesterday had morphed into a nasty, throbbing angry lump. It was still coverable with make up but I had to be pretty careful about what kind of lighting I stood in.This morning, I was awoken at approximately 5.30am by a painful spasm in the region of the blemish. I immediately hotfooted it down to the bathroom for a detailed inspection of my grill area. To my utter horror, the spot had grown a dirty great big head of pus which was threatening to explode at any moment.I could not go back to bed in this condition in case Alan woke up, saw my terrible disfiguration and stopped wanting to be my boyfriend. I decided emergency DIY surgery was the only solution.I collected together my operating equipment, which in this case was a large wad of recycled toilet tissue in embossed 'off white'. Covering my forefingers on each hand, I strategically placed them either side of the gumboil and gave a firm press.A most satisfying splat of yellow gunk type spot excrement shot into the tissue. A blast of pain shot through my face and I stemmed the flow of fluid by applying pressure to the gaping hole. I crept back to bed, relieved and calmed, however my long absence had awoken Alan from his slumber.

'Were you having a number 2?' He asked sleepily.

'No' I expectorated, slightly annoyed my covert mission had been detected and wrongly interpreted. 'I had a sore face so I went to the bathroom'

This explanation seemed to suffice and he went back to sleep.I fell into a restless post operative sleep and then when I awoke around 9am I pranced down to the bathroom, sure that my visage would once again resemble Snow White.I discovered that I still had the whopper blemish and that it was now topped with a dark uneven scab. I was aghast that my cosmetic procedure had failed.I was even more aghast when I discovered that the blemish was not coverable with make up and realised that staying in the house, avoiding all contact with carbon based life forms was not an option.I had to feel my fear and do it anyway, in the words of the best selling self help manual. So I applied make up to the rest of my kite and bravely soldiered into town to pay bills and attend to other matters of mundane importance. I attracted many confused glances and crying children, but I took strength from the story of the Elephant man and also a load of people I saw on the telly who had bits of tree growing out of their bodies. I think the programme was called 'Half man, half tree'. I could now totally understand the pain and suffering they endured at the hands of their cruel disfigurement. I am now thinking of taking a photo of the spot and sending it to Channel 4 so they can make a show called, 'Half woman, half facial carbuncle'.