Childhood "Friends"

What cruelty has age sunk to when long-time hated zits from my teenage years come back to remind me of childhood insecurities?  

Thankfully they are not the boils I had to soak in a compress to relieve but they are the same painful-to-the-touch, annoying white heads with their own personalities playing practical jokes on my face. 

Go ahead, tell me I'm lucky to have skin that "oily".  Tell me it'll make my skin that much softer in old age.  Then let me direct you to the scars from zits on my chin.  I've managed to tone down these pox like warts by wax dermabrasion--every month.  One of the girls won't wax me anymore because I cry too much. 

So here I am, me and my whiteheads.  But this time I look at them and say, go ahead guys, do your worst because I really don't give a crap about you anymore.  Funny how childhood insecurities can poof into thin air like that.  I'm not loved for the lack of blemishes on my face or the cellulite on my body.  I have more to offer than something skin deep.  I think my "little friends" just wanted to remind me of that.