"Hey! Look over here! I'm the worlds biggest zit!"
Now, I'm not big on zit popping, but I have a husband who cant stand the sight of them. I will be trying to have a casual conversation with him and all of the sudden, his eyes will begin squinting. Suddenly, Im tuned out. Its just him and the zit. He narrows in on it, and even though I may be in mid sentence, he approaches to pop it.
But he says that its better to look at a pinched red mark than it is to look at a zit, and Isaac can be quite persistent. I cant tell you how many arguments we've had over the zit popping issue.
Isaac: C'mon, let me just pot it. Its nasty!
me: no, Isaac! Leave it alone.
Isaac: (with his hands on my face, regarldess of my wish) Here. It will be quick.
*excruciating pain ensues*
me: Ow! Ow! Ow! Leave it alone!
Isaac: (continuing) Ive almost got it.... THERE! See? That wasnt so bad! You look better now.
Thats when I grudgingly stomp away to the bathroom mirror so I can see my newly acquired battle wound.
It wasn't the romantic picture I envisioned when him and I were dating, but nine years into our marital union, I have come to learn to "accept" it. I now pop my own pimples before they are ambushed by my night in shining armor.
Isaac will argue that I only tell you about the quirky things that he does, and that I never talk about the strange and horrible things that I do to him. He's right. I don't talk about that. This is my blog. If he wants to tell on me, hes just gonna have to open his own blog.
I do have to be fair to him: he is a better zit popper than I am.