Confessions of a Teenage Pizza Face

When I was in high school, I had acne. I mean, I wasn't horribly cursed or anything, but I was no Cover Girl. A few zits here and there and that was enough to send me into a self-loathing teen angst. I was never a really self-conscious kid, so I never really let it bug me for more than a minute. By the time I hid it with cover-up, I had already moved on to more important things, like flavoured lip gloss and Ben Folds.

One day, I was on the phone with my best friend while trying to find the perfect accessories to go with my customary high school plaid skirt and polo t-shirt. After I settled on the multicoloured bangles and watermelon hair clips, I told her about this new zit that appeared on my forehead (one of the most ackward places to have a zit). She then answered me back by saying, "Tell it to go find another face. Yours has no vacancy".

That was one of the many major burns of my life.