You know you haven't blogged in a while when you start off your post like letter, oy
(Also, if you haven't filled out my survey please do! Super helpful stuff coming in, I can't wait to share it with you! Plus you could win something...)
So, it is National Blog Posting Month. That time of year that some people despise as their feeds get filled to brim with daily posts, and some people love. I personally love it. NaBloPoMo seems to always kick start my blogging mojo. By posting daily I'm forced to become more creative, and writing is writing. Right? So buckle up, and let's get started.
Long ago Pre-Jorge, I used to get monthly pimples on the corners of my lips. I always loathed them. They made me look like I had some STD or sore oozing from my mouth, which let's face it is one of the least attractive areas to have ooze sprouting from (sorry, are you eating?). I've never really worn make up, but in college I tried tinted cream to cover up the sores and it never seemed to really work for me, probably because I've never been very good at blending. I always assumed as I grew up, I'd grow out of pimples. That's what they're always telling teenagers. But I didn't.
Then I got Jorge. Jorge messed with my hormones (understatement much?) and suddenly I was getting pimples right in the middle of cheeks, in the corner of my nose, IN MY NOSE (ouch!), on my chin. Just one angry zit.
That's me on my birthday (although the picture may indicate otherwise, I'm not drunk here. Promise), all zitted up.
I haven't talked about Jorge's spawn, The Jorgitas, in a while because there has mostly been not much to report. I've been seeing my acupuncturist about once a month and drinking some truly foul smelling Chinese medicinal herbs 30 minutes before breakfast and dinner (which is really lunch and dinner because I don't eat breakfast). I have still been exceptionally angry. But I started seeing another specialist, a cranial osteopath, and ya'll, there is a second miracle worker in town. I'm not angry any more (well you know, unless Inspector Climate whistles the same song multiple times in a row, I'm only human after all).
And this month, just this week in fact, I had a pimple on my lip. ON MY LIP. I've never been so excited to see a pimple in my entire life. I never thought I'd say this, but in this pimple I see...hope. I know, this sounds like a seriously case of profoundity. But hear me out. For the first time in two years, I feel like I did before Jorge (I was going to say BJ, but that's a truly terrible acronym), I feel like maybe this angry/hormonal/sick person that I've become isn't who I'll be forever. And that's pretty amazing.