They say it takes 21 days to break a habit. I made it seven. If week two was me falling off the picking wagon, week three was me landing in a pile of horse manure under the wagon. I mean, I went at it – and my skin has the lumps and dry, quasi-scabbed marks to prove it. Awesome.
Can adults have do-overs? Is that a thing? Because that’s what I’m going to need and, since I’m pretty much making the rules up as I go, that’s what I’m going to do. Starting this Thursday, February 1st, I’m going to start over and try this again.
No picking. No exceptions.
Now for motivation, the promise of fancy skin care wasn’t enough to keep me clean (pun intended) – although I did try and really like the Rodan and Fields scrub my sister generously hooked me up with – so I’m going to need to aim for something else. V and I have some great plans later in the month, so having clearer skin in time for those events is going to be my motivation. After all, selfies are significantly easier to take if you don’t have to hide the lower half of your face.
Until next time, wish me luck…
After passing week one without picking at my face at all, I was feeling really good about myself. I had will power. I had self restraint. I had… a week that followed that was super stressful and I caved under the pressure and started picking again.
It started innocently enough, as I told myself I’d only go for ones that were at the surface. Once I realized how many clogged pores were ready to go I realized that I would need to put a limit on this. Three. I would only let myself pick at three (I mean, they basically squeezed themselves).
The next night, once I had used my allotted three, I decided to up the number to five. And never in the same area… or at least not on the same side of my chin.
You can guess how the rest of the week went. Not only had I fallen off the wagon, I had proceeded to drag myself further into the adjacent ditch and lay there without sunscreen. Now I have not one, but two very hard, painful lumps on my chin which I have 100% brought on myself. They’re not as visibly as your standard whitehead, they are sensitive to the touch, which is super fun.
So here I am, back at square one. Let’s see if I can’t stay on the straight and narrow this time.