I stopped taking my son to the dermatologist abruptly. While he was given a skin care regime and prescriptions, his skin showed no improvement. I suspected he wasn’t using the medicines like he was supposed to – they lasted far too long in between visits.
Apparently, lifting a finger to stop your breakouts is too much for a 15-year-old to handle. Making office visits and making co-pays with no results was too much for me. After a bunch of begging, cajoling, bleating and threats, I gave up. He didn’t even seem to notice we stopped going. (And that irked me too!)
Then, he liked this girl and woo hoo, he was motivated. Still bristling from wasting cash on his teen rash, I opted to let him use the same treatment I gave his sister for her acne – proactiv. Magically, he was able to follow directions. It was easy for me too. I ordered it online and it’s delivered to the house on a schedule that I can adjust online too.
I remember that I didn’t have to beg my daughter to use Proactive faithfully. She did and still does. In fact, people compliment her on her complexion not knowing she has acne and oily skin. What gets me about her is that whenever she has some ailment that MAY have been passed on from my genetics (yes, I did have acne and oily skin) she has this annoying habit of saying, “Thanks, mom” like I gave it to her on purpose.
My theory is that oily skin prevents wrinkles in the later years (I am living proof!) so she can thank me then. I know – fat chance. By then she’ll be blaming me for stretch marks, spider veins and acid reflux. I inherited the ability to accept the inevitable.
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“Acceptance of one’s life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of psychological complexes and injustices.” ~ Paul Tournier
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2 responses so far ↓
1 Rebecca // Dec 23, 2007 at 4:01 am
Eh, she’ll be blaming her kids for the stretchmarks – I know I will!
2 Damama T // Dec 25, 2007 at 3:27 am
It’s 1:30 on Christmas morning. I popped in just to say hi and catch up. Hubby has harumphed off to bed and I’m still sitting here giggling, frequently with tears, and telling him I’ll be right there. He’s now decided to turn off the light and just let me fumble around to get past the bed to the bathroom when I finally make it in there!
But you know what – it is worth it because I’ve laughted more in the last 30 minutes than I have all week! Thanks! I needed it!
And on that fine note – nighty night!
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