“Peel it like a snake. Don’t let it break.”
Chemical peel redux.
This is a sequel to “My Chemical Romance: ‘MUST finish peeling in next 2 days (trip). HELP!!!’” (I think I said we’d talk about Bennifer tonight but I changed my mind, doing that Friday!)
Bzzzzzz. My phone has buzzed with a party invitation. A very glamorous and beautiful friend is having some people over: there will be drinking, dancing, gossiping. “Loveeee see u soon,” I’d replied. Two minutes later I remembered why I didn’t actually have any plans that weekend, why my social calendar was curiously empty: “wait fuck lmao i’m getting a chemical peel tomorrow there’s a chance i might look busted. will let u know.”
And I know what you’re thinking! My pores thought the same:
But I run this house, not them, and I decided that I needed another chemical peel. My skin has been lacking a certain … jenny say (it) quah … and I have a trio of weddings coming up. There’s no suffering too great or strange or intense for my skin; My chemistry tests were handed back face down but yes I’m in my bathroom mixing AHAs and BHAs of varying degrees! My mom, who once told me to try Bath and Body Works hand soap as a spot treatment raised me this way. I really don’t know another way to be! The holy grail product, treatment, facialist, tool, and/or device is always just around the corner… so, yeah, last week I got a VI Peel.
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