The I-made-a-huge-regretable-mistake diaries and advice on how not to be like me #3

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
entry #3.... Bad habits always lead to regret eventually

Submitted: October 11, 2009

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Submitted: October 11, 2009

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Blue, blue nose...

 

My Mum passed on some rather ugly little habits to me. Today I would like to tell you how one of these little habits led to a feeling of absolute horror and regret for three whole days.

 

At night, I like to spend time in front of the mirror. There's something very cathartic about scratching, squeezing, pricking or picking at anything on my face resembling a pimple.  My boyfriend and my Dad nag at me all the time to stop this habit, but honestly, what do they know...

So, the other night I was doing my thing, deeply involved in a therapeutic pimple-hunting session, when I decided that my nose needed to be pricked, poked and squeezed (even though there was actually nothing to prick, poke or squeeze on my nose at that point in time).

I was going at my nose with great vigour and excitement until I noticed that something was not quite right. I took a slight step back and found myself staring in revulsion at my reflection. Without warning, I had been left with a bruise on the very tip of my nose (yes, this really happened). Frenziedly, I started praying, crying, screaming and putting concealer on until I was eventually convinced that it would all be over in the morning and went to bed.

Waking up the next morning, I immediatly remembered what had occured during the previous evening and ran towards the mirror with a deep sense of anticipation. Well, I only needed a split-second glance in the mirror to realise that the evidence of my bad habit was still there. It was as obvious as the nose on my face (excuse the pun).

 

I spent the next three days listening to my Father's loud renditions of songs such as "My God NOSE everything about me", "He NOSE my name", "it doesn't matter if you're Blue or white" and "Blue, blue nose".  Deep, deep regret (and deep, deep anger at the make-up company who's concealer proved to be ineffective during my time of need).



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