I’ve been under so much stress at work this week, and all I could think was, I better not get a big fucking zit because of this. Of course that thought only worked to increase my level of anxiety. I have a date tomorrow night, which I have been very much looking forward to, with a 48-year-old Englishman. Canceling because of acne would’ve meant a really depressing night at home. That’s what I would have done, though: canceled if the mark became too much to b(e)ar/e. My insecurity is such that it cannot take any additional hits in the days preceding a date with a man.
It’s a terrible burden, this insecurity.