Posted by: pendrops | October 1, 2007

way deep down


It’s been a long 3 months. A long toxin-free, pimple-filled, zit-popping 3 months.

You see, after some extensive research, I found that women’s bodies are chocked full of deadly toxins (over 700 to be generally exact). The toxins come from any number of products sold to us: cosmetics, lotions, soaps, creams, perfumes, shampoos and hair sprays to name a few.

As I learned more, I discovered that the face cleanser I’d used for more than 7 years was linked undeniably to liver cancer. (An encouraging revelation, to be sure.) As a result, I did what anyone would do when faced with the risk of painful and untimely death – I stopped using that product. Cold turkey.

A girl without a cleanser, I began the search for an organic, non-deadly replacement. I felt around in the dark for a few weeks with homemade mixtures involving blenders, measuring spoons, oatmeal, honey, cucumbers, olive oil and green tea. And I was good for about a week. A week of non-toxic, blemish-free bliss before the great assault.

Then came the attack. I found myself warring in front of the bathroom mirror every night: popping, picking and penetrating the grease bubbles that had taken up what seemed like permanent residence on my previously clear face. Ah, but to no avail.

So fierce and unrelenting they were in battle that I found myself surrendering. “One toxic product in the grand scheme of things won’t kill me,” I said one night in a teary conversation with my reflection. But I couldn’t ignore the reports. Liver cancer – no thanks. I’ll take zits.

So I endured the perpetual whiteheads, the scaly skin, the proud pock marks mocking my attempted cover-ups. And I wasn’t a bit graceful about it; I was angry.

“I’m doing everything right,” I would tell the poor girls in the natural living department at Wild Oats, who I forced to listen to my sob story upon every visit. Then, one of them, one who was actually listening after 2 1/2 months of my whining, said something so true it’s still ringing around me.

“There’s something going on inside, deep down, causing these things,” she said, glancing at my forehead, where a new colony of red bumps had settled. “Like those zits on your chin – you’ve got a parasite. And the bumps on your forehead – hormones. Hormones and anxiety. Get that inside stuff straightened out, and you’ll be set.”

There’s something going on inside, I thought, as I walked out of the store with another month’s supply of my new favorite organic cleanser. And I wondered. Wondered about our strong and resilient bodies, still fragile enough to be thrown off by microscopic organisms. Wondered about my body telling me what was wrong when I stopped covering up. Wondered about my exterior life and what it’s rooted to way deep down.



  1. That’s one of the surest signs for Sarah that she’s gotten into sugar or wheat, she breaks out within a few hours.

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