Vanity, Thy Name is Davis

I'm really not too vain of a lady. I don't wear a lot of makeup. I dress like a 12 year old boy. But there are certain cases where my vanity will emerge. I'll totally buy an overpriced pair of jeans (worth it!!) I like to look good in my Halloween costume (not slut-style, like "sexy Little Red Riding Hood", more cool-style like Axl Rose or Futuristic Robot Warrior). And I am kinda obsessive about my skin.

I've had skin problems my whole life. Been on Accutane twice and loooooved it, despite misgivings from my physician Dad who took the heart and liver risks way more seriously than I did. It's a hardcore medication. I remember reading on the package that possible side effects included "sudden night blindness". (What did I care! My skin was clear!)

Accutane also causes major birth defects. When you're on it you have to take monthly tests to make sure you aren't pregnant. On every single pill in the package, there's a picture of a pregnant lady with a circle slash over her:

No Pregnant!

The little pregnant lady tabs would usually fall off when I punched the pill out, then my cat would play with them and later I'd find them in his litterbox.

But even with the crazy fetus-deforming drugs, I still got some acne. Last couple of years, I've noticed scars on my chin. They bug me. I'd talked to my dermatologist lady about getting them lasered off (yeah!) but didn't decide to take the plunge until April when I saw myself in footage from Steve's new movie. HD is rough.

The lasering takes a few treatments. I got the first one a couple of months ago and another one on Monday. They put this numbing cream on you, but it still feels like they're sticking burning hot needles into your face. Both times I've thought to myself, "Oh, this is what it might be like to be tortured." (But who cares? I'm getting scars removed!)

The worst past of the lasering is that for several days afterwards, my entire chin is clown, clown red. No exaggeration. It looks crazy. I walk around all day and forget how crazy it looks. Then I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and I'm like, good Lord. I look bananas. No one asks me about it, of course. But what do they think is wrong with my chin? Sunburn? Bicycle accident? Some sort of skin disease? (But who cares! Scars be gone!)

Extra awkward side note for today: Felt weird all day because of the clown red chin. Then later was in a work meeting and realized that one of my shirt buttons was unbuttoned.

I can never be one of those put-together girls.