Untitled.

Acne Update: (as if you care)

My skin is back to it's original, clear state, and cheese is once again a staple in my diet (along with coffee, cream, meat, wine, vodka, etc.) thanks to Doxycycline working miracles.   Why I didn't just go back on doxy the first time around blows my mind.  The doxy stopped any new zits from forming the moment I started taking it, and the cysts that could still be felt under my skin that had persisted through almost four months of spironolactone treatment have subsided into nothingness after only 3 weeks of doxy.  I mean,  I almost passed out one day on the F train due to nausea that was so terrible I thought I was going to faint, but at least my skin is clear :D  :D :D :D  There is a saying my sister always used when she was putting eyeliner on my lower lash line for dance recitals when I was but a young girl of 8:  "Beauty is pain." Ah yes, those words still ring true today. lol.

 I will say, however, that nothing is more embarrassing than when you're on a crowded train and start sweating profusely, get weak in the knees, and start dry-heaving.   The only thing worse is actually vomiting in a train station (yes, I have been there also... I keep it classy guys ;)  ).  I took my meds at an unusually early hour after getting NO sleep one night and taking the pill on an empty stomach at 6:30am, and the results were not OK.  If you've ever passed out, you'll know what I'm talking about when I describe the feeling of the corners of your vision getting black and the sweat that starts dripping down your forehead and how your whole body goes tingly and weak.  It's one thing to feel like this in the safety of co-workers and/or friends (yes, I passed out once when I was working part-time at Claire's in college... but at least I got to leave my shift early), but it is quite another to feel this way in the already grimy and scary atmosphere that is the NYC subway.   I was forced to get off at 34th street and sit on the nasty, wooden bench, dry-heaving as men in suits walked by me with concerned looks on their faces.  I should have just called out of work right then and there since I felt like I was about to die... alas, I still went in after calling my mom.  You know the situation is bad when you feel so sick that you call your mother crying despite the fact your a grown-ass adult.  My poor mom...    The only other time I've had to de-board a train mid-journey was the day I vommed sitting next to two bums on a grimy, wooden bench after I drank two bottles of wine on an empty stomach.  WORST HANGOVER EVER... I would NOT recommend to anyone.

I am going home next weekend for the first time since Christmas.  I'm pretty excited to have some quality time with my brother and cousin and friends.  I can't wait to cook for my parents, see my son (Bijou) and baby (Ceely), and wake up to a pot of already made coffee...  the best part about being home is definitely being spoiled by my parents.  I'm happy I don't go home regularly anymore, otherwise they might take my visits for granted and not treat me so well... jk (but not really).  I am sure my mom and dad will cook me all of my favorite things (London Broil on the grill, crab cakes, chicken dumpling soup... OMG, salivating at the very thought).  Nothing says 'true love' the way food does.  I think this is where I get the cooking gene.  They always say the best way to a man's heart is thru his stomach, but I find that the best way to show people how much you appreciate and love them is to cook for them in general (yes, even if you're just making me Easy-Mac or a PB&J sandwich it probably means you love me).

It will also be nice to actually have off a real "weekend" since my "weekends" have been consisting of Monday/Tuesdays the past couple of months.  I think the last time I had a legitimate weekend was last summer when I went to see NIN and took off a Saturday and Sunday together.  I don't really know what a weekend feels like anymore... especially not one spent with people who are also simultaneously off with me.  I haven't even had two days in a row off with my boyfriend in over a month.... :D #blessed.  GOD I LOVE HIS JOB :D :D :D :D :D :D (in case you didn't already know :D ).

In other news, I live a boring ass life.

In other, other news, I'll leave you all with some slutty selfies and a lil' story I wrote.

First The Story: 

Once upon a time, (yes, that's how every great tale of woe begins...), there was a big, fake-titted, fake-silicon-worm-lipped maiden who worked at a strip club and also as a "VIP bottle hostess."  Her name was Candy,  Candy Cane.  She claimed she was 22, but everyone knew bitch was AT LEAST 32 (and that is being generous).  Maybe the two silicon, bolt-on, Frankenstein, titty-sacks on her chest were 22, but she sure as hell was NOT.  Like a bicycle, she'd been around the block numerous times, and she knew exactly what was up.  In addition to "VIP bottle waitressing," she also moonlighted as a high-paid escort; she flew on private jets, lived in one of the most exclusive NYC hotels (I know... right???!!!), and regularly went on "solo" vacations to luxury destinations like Dubai, the Cayman Islands, Paris, etc.  How she afforded such luxuries on a "bottle waitress salary" really blew the minds of her friends, because clearly she never admitted the truth.  The truth being that she made the bulk of her money peddling her beat-up pussy around the financial district of NYC.  If you meet a 55 year old, overweight dude driving a Maserati or some other sports car, and if this dude works downtown or owns a series of steak houses around the world, chances are, he has fucked Candy. 

But you know what?  At least she wasn't tied down.  In fact, she was using men to her own, personal gain the way they used her- just in different ways.  Candy had her freedom, and through her sluttiness, she was able to support herself, travel the world, meet new people. discover new things, and live in perfectly content luxury compared to most of the other single girls her age she knew. Unlike the others, at least she wasn't slaving her life away at a job she fucking hated, making only enough money to make ends meet.  At least she wasn't tied down to some boyfriend who was never fucking home and when he was home was still working and didn't pay attention to her.  At least she was traveling the world at the expense of someone else.  She didn't have to scrimp and save for a vacation; dude's flew her to exotic locals just so they could smother themselves in her fake breasts (Please note- if a man is ever into this look, he is not a classy man at all).   So what if she slept around? So what if she looked like a monkey with two inflated earthworms on her face and two inflated life-rafts on her chest?  She was happy and thriving... while most were not.

In another room, in another part of town,  in another realm of twisted reality, was the very opposite sort of girl from Candy...

Eleanor sat alone listening to Nirvana, drinking an expensive, red wine better suited for a dinner party than solitude and a laptop.  She was contemplating jumping off of her terrace. She had a pretty nasty coke comedown... I suppose that explains her suicidal tendencies at the moment that this story is unfolding.  In addition to a heavy intake of coke, she also indulged in adderall the entirety of the week preceding up to the time and date upon which this story is meant to be taking place.  Let's just say- she was fucked in more ways than one... and none of them were sexual (sadly)... She was sleep deprived, depressed, in the midst of one nasty comedown.  To put it bluntly, she was basically like 50% of all young New Yorkers at any given time.  She was one of the masses, even though she liked to think she was special.  She was trying to be special, and just coming out generic.  She was low-down, wanna be intellectual, creatively crippled hipster trash. 

This wasn't her first rodeo and it wasn't her last.  She basically hit this low every-other-week following a night of partying and recreational drug use.  The ultimate New York high followed by the ultimate New York low. She didn't really even know why she lived in New York anymore... her acting career was going nowhere, she hadn't been on one audition in the past year and a half.  The job she had to pay her rent was the very bane of her very existence, and even her relationship made her sad... She felt as though she was never enough.  But that wasn't anyone's fault but society's... yeah man, society... SOCIETY SOCIETY (she was having a Christopher McCandles moment...). 

Thank fucking God for the adderall in her kitchen cupboard she thought... otherwise she might not wake up nor would she be thin. It was a pitiful living situation, if you could even call it living.  Merely "existing" was the term she most preferred.  She remembered the most beautiful days... the days when she was young enough that none of the material things mattered... her job didn't matter because youth was on her side then.  When she first moved to this city, full of dreams, full of hope and possibilities, full of love... things were different.  She was a different girl and she had the world by the balls.  Now she was consumed by hatred.  Hate for almost everyone around her, hate for her life, and hate for herself.  She hated herself for working so hard just to get by, and in turn, putting her dreams on a back-burner.  If only there was a way to pay bills and do what she loved without selling herself or becoming one of the Candys of the world, life would be so effortless and carefree.  

One fine day, Eleanor stumbled across a dominatrix ad whilst job searching on Craigslist.  She decided to answer just for the hell of it to see if she would get a response.  Sure enough, she did get a response.  For even though Eleanor had nothing real going for her, she was still pleasing on the eye and men loved her.  

And so it was that little Eleanor became a cold-hearted, domineering bitch who beat naked men with a riding crop for money.  One day, Eleanor actually decided that she wanted to be a man.  She started dressing like one and even going out as one.  She was inspired by Bruce Jenner, whom was the only cast member of "Keeping Up With The Kardashians" that she ever really took a liking too.  "If ol' Brucey can come out of the closet and openly live his life as a woman, than by God, I can live my life as a man!" she thought.  

On a beautiful summer night, Eleanor (who now went by Ethan) was making the rounds in Meatpacking.  She had become a club-scene-kid-type-regular.  In fact, women and gays flocked to her more than they did to Amanda Lepore.  Yes, Ethan (formerly known as Eleanor) had stolen the hearts of gays, MDMA users, silicon-titted slutbags, and club kids the world over.  She was an Instagram sensation!!!!! Shit, she   he, almost had more followers than Miley F*cking Cyrus.  Anyhow, I digress... 

One night, Ethan was making the rounds downtown.  First she hit up Le Bain, than it was onto STK, and finally she went toooooo (drum roll please...) DDDDDDDDddddddDDDdddddddddl.......... TAO!!!! Yes, ladies and gents, he ended up at Tao, the most preferred club/restaurant of gold-diggers and old, rich men the world over.  At this point, Ethan (pronounced E-taan), had made a name for himself.  He was "Instagram" famous, and got all manner of free shit from brands looking for a spokesperson.  As known as he was though, Ethan was technically not rich, although people were fooled into thinking he was given the fact that he dressed in expensive, custom tailored jeans and jackets, the finest Italian calf-leather shoes, and got the VIP treatment everywhere he went.  Well, the point is, that on this fine night in June, Ethan met Candy.  YES- Candy Cane.  Candy Cane was a fame whore/gold digging bitch and was fooled by the finery that caressed Ethan's slender frame.  She followed him on the gram and knew that he traveled to all the hottest spots, dined at the finest restaurants, and generally assumed he was rich.  She had no clue that Ethan was once a girl, and that she actually used to work with Ethan at the club where she bottle waitressed.  Ethan was the bathroom attendant back then... just a lowly, albeit pretty, bathroom attendant in the women's room.  Even though Candy did not recognize Ethan, Ethan surely knew Candy and decided to play a game by leading her on.  You see, Candy used to always steal Ethan's lollipops, tampons, and use the free hairspray and NEVER ONCE did this bitch tip poor, poor Ethan (whom was still Eleanor back then).  

Ethan got a table for the two of them, and made sure to order a fucking parade of Doms with ALL THE SPARKLERS... aLL THE FUCKINg  SParkLERS!!!!!! YES.  He ordered the most expensive things on the menu for Candy, even though he knew she was the type that would take one bite of each course before spitting it secretly into her napkin and then hiding it in her clutch.  Yes, sadly Candy had a serious chew-and-spit eating disorder (although you'd never actually realize how thin she was because her ginormous breasts were very deceptive and made onlookers think she was curvy).  Poor Candy.  She was the most insecure girl you'd ever meet- which is why she sold her body and got monthly injections of botox at the "tender age of 22."  

Anyhow, Ethan roofied Candy's champagne.  Once Candy was falling asleep at the dinner table, Ethan told one of the fine Tao bottle servers to call a car service and slipped her a $400 tip for doing so (I know, I know... Ethan isn't rich.. he used fake bills).  The car arrived and Ethan took Candy home.  Home being a ghetto-fab loft he shared with 3 other dudes in Bushwick.  Hey!- I told you, he isn't actually rich... he just gets a lot of freebies and therefore seems rich.  Anyhow, Ethan took Candy into his room and tied her up.  When she awoke 12 hours later, (remember now kids, she was roofied...), Ethan asked her "Do you know who the f*ck I am??? What's my mother fucking name bitch?"   Candy was dumb-founded.  And then Ethan stripped naked and she realized he was a woman.  Then Ethan got up in her face so that they were nose-to-nose.  "Do YOU KNOW WHO I AM NOW????"  GASP! "Like, OMG, Like, You used to be a bathroom attendant at the club!"  Ah Ha! 

Now that Candy knew what was up, Ethan could execute his plan with maximized satisfaction on his end.  Ethan buzz-cut Candy's hair, pulled off her fake eye lashes, pulled off her acrylic nails, and put a mirror in front of her on the floor.  She was still tied to the end of his bed, and she was forced to stare at her own reflection in the mirror.  She started sobbing.  "Well, that's enough damage for today... I really shouldn't do anymore harm" Ethan said.  And with that, he chopped her head off with a pair of fabric scissors and dumped her sad, fake body down the garbage shoot.  The end. 

My favorite outfit ever, still going strong after a year. 

Last summer... selfie noir.  

In other news, I'm going to three awesome concerts this summer (ACDC, U2, and Incubus) and currently planning a three day, Woodstock Bender.  That's about the only thing keeping me going right now.  I give up on finding another job.  I will die penniless, and alone, wearing Mollister clothes.  

I'm Writing this Entry on the Brink of Insanity.

If you're reading this, it's only because my skin is better and I am mentally more sound as a result.  I wrote this over two weeks ago now, when I was nearly suicidal, could hardly look at myself in the mirror, and spent two hours sobbing on the phone to my mother.  I am only posting this blog, because despite the fact that my audience of readers consists of maybe 2.5 people total (hahaha), I want anyone who is in the same boat I was in to know that they are not alone if they are struggling with acne or other skin issues.  It sucks because it isn't always genetic, nor is it caused by what you put in or on your body.  I thank God and modern medicine that Doxycycline has cleared me up in a matter of two weeks (KNOCK ON WOOD... hope I didn't just jinx myself ;p ), otherwise I'm not sure how I would have gone on.  I pray that my acne does not come back as I finally have my self confidence restored and no longer feel like hibernating in my apartment or avoiding public situations as I wanted to do the past few weeks.

The doxycycline makes me feel nauseous as fuck, but at least all I have left at this point are fading red marks and I haven't gotten a single new blemish since I started taking the med two weeks ago.  My skin was super dry the other day, but I'd rather take a few flakes then another cyst deforming my face.   I feel so much better that I can't even describe it.  Nothing has radically changed in my life with the exception of my face, but I feel like I am on top of the world again and in control of my life.  I think it's the boost in confidence, but I already scored two interviews for this coming week (wish me luck)!

Below, is an entry I wrote approximately two weeks ago when I was quite convinced nothing would ever help me again and the end was very near...



March 31, 2015

I plan on posting this blog after my acne is resolved... if it ever is... I know this sounds overly dramatic, but I cannot possibly go on like this.  My self-confidence is non-existent despite the fact that I post a plethora of slutty selfies on my social media accounts, which might  have lead you to believe I feel otherwise.  I think that I am mostly trying to convince myself that I'm attractive since it's a daily struggle to even look at myself in the mirror after a shower with no makeup on.   I don't even let my own boyfriend see me without make up on anymore... and the dude has seen a lot of shit many would consider worse than a face full of zits with the antics I pull...  You know it's bad when you'd rather have your boyfriend see you naked and vomiting off the side of the bed then without your concealer on...

After a lot of research and weighing the pros and cons, I've made a decision tonight that I will go on Accutane if the doctor can't provide me with a slightly less traumatizing treatment plan.  I'm willing to give it one more attempt using a slightly less harmful drug alternative Friday when I have yet ANOTHER dermatology follow-up appointment.  If I have to plead with my dermatologist and get down on my knees and cry to get my point across I will.  That's what this has come down to.  This is an issue that just hasn't resolved despite months of being on Spironolactone for hormonal acne and upping the dosage from 50mg to 100mg a day.  I was so hopeful that this shit would work, since I read so many reviews and it is supposedly had positive outcomes in 85% of cases.  I guess I'm not the 85%...   At least I didn't experience any negative side effects.  That's a plus I guess...

MY EXPERIENCE WITH CYSTIC, ADULT ACNE

As you may or may not know (not that you really care in the first place), my skin was pretty perfect until I was about 24.  I always thought acne was something only experienced by teenagers... not women well into their twenties.  I experienced my first bad breakout after moving to NYC in fall of 2012 and my condition improved for a while, but this fall (October of 2014) I started getting major, painful, distorting cysts that just WILL NOT GO AWAY.

When I experienced my first breakout in Fall of 2012, I assumed it was from the environmental change I experienced after moving from clean, Upstate New York, to dirty-ass NYC.  I honestly just thought it was an extra bad case of the usual 'monthly zit,' and I thought I could take care of it without seeing a doctor.  After trying to cut out sugar and "bad" foods from my diet and trying a variety of over the counter products, I couldn't take it any longer.  After a month or so of trying to fight the cysts appearing on my chin and then gradually on my cheeks, I made a dermatology appointment and demanded meds.  I was put on Doxicyline (an antibiotic used specifically for treating acne) along with two topical cremes- aczone and another one I forget the name of now...

After about 3 months, the doxicycline seemed to have had a positive effect.  My acne was gone, my face was back to normal, and I only broke out during 'that time of the month,' which is no biggie after you know what it's like to have cysts that don't come to a head or really go away.  The doxicycline was pretty brutal on my body while I was on it though. It caused me to have major headaches that wouldn't go away even with copious amounts of water and advil, and I always felt nauseous for a couple of hours after I took it so I lost weight because I wanted to vom at the thought of food.   However, it worked in that it made my cysts disappear and new ones didn't pop up.  I was acne free for about a year and half.   During that time, I probably took my clear skin for granted and forgot how that brief bout of acne really even affected me.   Then, in October 2014, THIS HAPPENED:

I know, right??? My entire chin was distorted by two MAJOR zits... they were painful as fuck- like, I swear to God they had a pulse.  I could feel them hot and pulsing underneath the surface of my skin, and I was in terrible pain.  It hurt to smile or perform any sort of facial expression that stretched the skin on or around my jaw/chin.  Not to mention they just couldn't be popped because they were underground and wouldn't come to a head.   They seriously distorted my entire chin, as you can clearly see.  I was not only in physical pain, but emotional pain as well since I looked like Jay Leno.  I felt like a goddamn monster.  This is when I realized something was not normal and I first went to the dermatologist demanding help.  Sadly for me, I looked like this over Christmas with my family and even on New Years Eve.  To some it may sound petty, but when you're fucking face looks distorted, it's hard to feel hot/pretty/appealing.

 On December 17th, 2014, I finally went to the derm.  I was prescribed Spironolactone.  Spironolactone is actually a blood-pressure medicine/diuretic.   However, it stops androgen production, which is why it is commonly prescribed for hormonal acne- the type that I have.  The doctor said that a lot of women in their twenties and thirties get hormonal acne, since it is a time of major change within the hormonal balance.  I guess it's because I should be getting pregnant by evolutionary standard, or some shit like that... or my hormones would balance out if I were pregnant, which, evidently my body wants me to be.  She said a lot of women go on birth control to balance out their hormones and see effective results.  However, I have been on an oral contraceptive for about five years, and during that time I went from having perfect skin, to this mess. I also went from being moderately insane, to full fucking blown crazy during that time of the month.  Pretty sure birth control has done me more harm than anything else at this point.   I asked if there was any other factors that might be triggering it.  Stress is a factor, but as I sit here writing this, I realize I've been running on the same stress level for about 3 years, and during that time I've had a couple bad breakout yes, but I've also had really clear skin even during times of HEAVY stress, like when I was dating/breaking up with my ex.  I don't think stress alone is what triggered this shit.  I asked about sleep and diet as well.  Clearly not sleeping enough is bad for your skin, as is a poor diet.  However, I don't even eat sweets or chocolate the way I did in college, nor do I eat fast food, processed food, chips, or greasy/fried foods.  I'm sure we all know people who live on greasy and processed food and have better, clearer skin than anyone.  I guess it all depends on how lucky you are.  Seriously though... it blows.

One myth about acne that I fucking hate is that people who have never had cystic acne think you can clear it up yourself with diet and lifestyle.  I only WISH this were the case.  I was complaining to someone at work and they were like, "Do you wash your pillow case?"  UMMMMM WTF?! lol.  I was highly offended.  No shit sherlock- I wash/change my pillow case on a bi-weekly basis and it still makes no difference.  "Have you been eating chocolate?" Um no... I've basically been subsisting on fucking health food for the past two months in coincidence with the meds trying to treat my body as kindly as possible and am breaking out worse than fucking ever.

I just want to be able to feel comfortable in my own skin without excessive amounts of foundation and concealer on.  I want to be able to wear makeup less often and in smaller amounts.  Either I walk around with red spots and lumps on display without makeup (which I absolutely will not do), or I do what I have been doing and cake on the liquid foundation and concealer.  This covers the redness, but it creates flaky, awful looking skin when the zit starts drying out or pealing.  It also doesn't help when your zit is the size of a fucking chickpea and/or Mt. Everest, and no amount of makeup can disguise it.  The concealer balances out the color, but I'm still left with a huge, flesh-toned, painful cyst that creates a lumpy jawline and shadows on my face.  Makeup doesn't make the zits go away.  I hate seeing myself without makeup because it truly makes me want to cry.   I'm a control freak, and I have no control over my own face, despite my best efforts of controlling what I put in my body or on my face in a futile attempt to exert control over my skin's reaction.

This is me, right now with no makeup on.  Sexy, right? ;)

It started on my chin, and in the 

past two weeks, despite the increased dosage of Spiro, it has manifested itself on my cheeks now... FUCKING SWEEEEEEET :(

I'm afraid if my acne gets any worse, I'll have terrible scarring.  When the cysts go down (which seriously takes them about a month each), I am left with red marks that literally take like 7 months to fade away.  It's pretty awful.  

Since I've tried pretty much every option out there, and this week I've decided to do a brutal diet/cleanse as a last resort.  It can't hurt at this point right?  At least I will be proving to myself that it isn't what is going into my body that's causing my skin to react like this.  I eat plenty of fruits and veggies, minimal meat, minimal dairy (with the exception of cheese once a week), and It's not like I'm abusing Meth or other hard drugs... so if by further limiting myself by cutting out all sugar, gluten, all dairy, and acidic foods I still can't tame this beast internally, then I'm going for the hard shit... meaning the mother of all the acne meds on the market... 

I hope something works soon because I am driving myself and everyone who has to deal with me in this state absolutely INSANE.  I hope that when this entry finally sees the light of day and as you sit here reading this, it is because I have had success with something and my face is finally clear to the point where I don't mind airing my dirty laundry and hideous, makeup free pics in contrast to my new and improved acne free face.   Pray for me. ahahahahahah.  jk.  #blessed 

I'm a Negligent Blogger

Not that I'd consider myself a real blogger (we leave that to all the cool hipster fashion bloggers with their model-good-looks and anorexic stick legs)... but that's beside the point here.  I haven't written an entry since BEFORE Vegas, which is quite frankly, unacceptable in terms of keeping this POS up and running. ;)

Vegas was awesome, but obviously very short-lived.  I think I could have used another week there, another 20 or so Bloody Mary's, a couple more dinners out, a couple more nights out, and definitely some pool time.  It was a nice escape from frigid NYC though, and the hotel room at Cosmopolitan was pretty effing sweet... I wouldn't mind living there full time ;)

View into the living room from the bed... this does not do the size of the suite justice.  There was a walk-in shower room with a connected, hot-tub sized tub for two or more people.  As you can imagine I spent a good deal of time in the tub... you know how I do. 

When in Rome... am I right?  starting the day off properly.  Hers and His shot glasses... can you guess which one is mine???? :p

I think we were feeling the winter blues even worse than before Vegas after we came back, not to mention the fact that we were both working like slaves with crazy schedules that basically mean we only see each other to go to bed.  My boyfriend planned an impromptu Airbnb trip to a cabin in the middle of nowhere... it was just what we needed.  Except as always, two days just wasn't enough.  I think I need a solid two week vacay at this point.  There was no cable, no cell service, and no internet.  It was beautiful.  As per usual, I camped out in the hottub with a bottle of champagne, because you know I keep it classy at all times ;)

Mimosa's for breakfast: a perfectly well-rounded diet. 

Besides the hot tub, we spent the full 48 hours camped out in front of the fireplace.  Good thing I learned from the best how to build a proper fire (courtesy of my dad).  We also ate like the fat bastards we are inside for two days straight and BBQ'ed some awesome steaks.  In another life I was surely 300+ lbs....

I have had an epiphany of sorts in terms of realizing what I want job-wise.  I obviously want to continue to pursue writing, but as for now, I think that's only something I can do on a part-time basis.  I also know eventually I want a more creative job, whether it is eventually being able to write full-time for a publication or starting my own business where I build customized festival costumes (yes, this is a dream of mine...).   I definitely don't want an 8-5 or a 9-5 since I feel restricted when I am forced to wake up early and can't go out at night should the opportunity present itself.   I also don't want a sedentary office job where I do the same thing every day.  I have decided to take a leap of faith and get a personal fitness certification.  Getting paid to stay in shape and having more control over my work schedule is sounding mighty tempting these days.  I know it's going to be a long process and I plan on looking for a full-time job in the meantime, but it is something I definitely want to pursue.  I know what you're thinking too... "Kelsey? a personal fitness trainer? Bitch hasn't worked out a day in her life."  I know.. it sounds like a joke, right?  But I'm serious.   I think I'd be really good at it, and it would be really good for me... especially mentally and emotionally.  I've realized that when I exert myself physically (usually doing floor updates at work), most of my anger and stress burns off.  If I could do that everyday and help others do the same and earn money doing it, life would be infinitely more rewarding.  Plus, since my mom's genes cause me to build muscle like a pitbull, I can only imagine what my body might look like if I actually did work out everyday.

Speaking of health, my spironolactone no longer seems to be having a positive effect on my acne.  I'm making a dermatologist appointment and demanding accutane tomorrow... it's time to bring out the big guns, no more pussy-footing around.  LOL... pussy-footing- my dance teacher used to use that term.  I love it ;)  I've considered the side-effects of accutane and have talked with a couple people who have used it in the past.   Unlike every other person in my graduating class, I am not having kids any time soon (if I ever even do...), so I don't have to worry about the negative side effects there.  

I think it's my only alternative at this point, other than going on an anti-inflammatory diet as per my sister's suggestion.  I don't know if I'm strong enough for an anti-inflammatory diet though; I am addicted to cheese, addicted to gluten, addicted to wine, and addicted to acidic foods like tomatoes etc.  I guess it's worth a go though... I just don't know how I am going to be able to socialize with my friends or even have a decent day of binge eating with my boyfriend if I have to turn down so many of the foods I live on.  I've also considered kickstarting the anti-inflammatory diet with the Master Cleanse.  Might as well go big or go home... right???? I don't know... if you know me you know I abhor people who do the whole "gluten free" diet.  I think it's straight up bullshizzle.   But I'm willing to give it a go if it means healthier skin.  I'm so tired of having to cake on makeup to cover zits and all of the red marks they leave once they're gone.  My skin used to be so nice in comparison to what it is now, and I want it back.  I'm going to start tomorrow... we will see how it goes.   And I know I have also bashed cleanses before saying they're just an excuse to disguise eating disorders, but at this point I'm desperate for change, and it can't possibly hurt.  

Desperately in need of a hair trim and looking bootylicious in my jeggings.  I honestly can say I'm going to miss that mollister discount when I'm finally free of my biggest beast of burden: my job with mollister.  Surprisingly, we've been getting some really cute summer clothes in lately.  I bought an awesome crochet crop top that is very 70s, and of course the "festival" THOT shorts. lol.. thot.  

This was me last weekend... and....

This was me last night after dinner...  Mama mia che schifo!!!! No, I'm not pregnant, and no, I have no shame in posting this pic... I don't understand how my body fluctuates the way it does.  Is it normal to go from this ^ to defined abs the next morning?  Or am I an alien? 

Making Coffee at 4:30AM

HERE I AM  (oopsie- caps lock was on... reminds me of Cate Blanchett's character from Notes on a Scandal, when she comes storming out screaming "HERE I AM!!!!!" with all of the news reporters surrounding her... but I digress...). Ahem- here I am drinking coffee at 4:30am.  No, I did not just wake up... I can't fucking sleep.  I can never f*cking sleep, not even when I'm tired, because my mind won't shut off unless everything is in it's place in life.  I am leaving for Vegas in approximately 4 hours... well, technically about 2 hours, since that is when I have to leave for JFK.  My boyfriend was working a monstrous weekend since Highline was hosting not one, not two, BUT THREE nights of NBA "All Star" themed parties, featuring Lil' Wayne and a bunch of ghetto guests.  I remember loathing nights when a hip-hop artist was performing at Highline when I still worked there for a multitude of reasons, but again... I digress.  Let's just say I almost got crushed to death one fine New Years Eve...

This is what happens when Greenhouse throws a NYE party at Highline and maximum occupancy is exceeded... 

Let me please clarify that I'm not being a racist- black, white, it doesn't matter... if the genre is hip-hop, the crowd is awful.  I'm talking walk-outs on tables, people smoking weed everywhere (which you might think is awesome, but not when you are a server and breathing that shit in whilst in a crowded as fuck club), and just general rowdiness (no, not the good kind).  

Anyhow, I got off topic.  The point is, my bf has essentially been working for 48 hours straight with about two hours of sleep... I'm pretty sure that when I meet him at the airport (I have to meet him there since he probably won't be leaving work until 7am), I will basically have a zombie on my hands.  I can't sleep myself though, because not only am I terribly excited for four days in a row off of work and  can't wait to get out of this sub-zero weather for some hot, desert sun, but I have apparently inherited my paternal grandmother's worrying gene, and so I've been fretting about the welfare of my overworked boyfriend for the past two days wondering how he is holding up and if he is staying hydrated.  As if I don't already have enough to fret about just trying to keep myself maintained!!!! lol... me, a maintained lady... what a f*cking joke- as I sit here typing I have split ends, bitten nails, have consumed far too much caffeine, am running on no sleep myself, and have a weird rash on my hand where I decided to test out a sample of Strivectin that my sister gave me.  Good thing I tested it on my hand first instead of my face.  My skin is just so sensitive I should probably just live in a bubble.  

I'll never forget the time I ran through a cemetery and got this weird, raised rash all over my torso that the doctor couldn't even identify and I was CONVINCED that is was flesh-eating bacteria.  Or the time that I used this heavily scented body wash from Bath and Body works and was convinced I had an STD because it burned the ever living hell out of me.  Or the time I used this Khiel's brand under-eye depuffer and it burnt the ever living shit out of me and it looked like I had second degree burns under my eyes and had to wear sunglasses for the next day.  Or the time I moved to NYC and got another weird rash all over my torso that again, the doctor couldn't seem to identify... ;)  #BLESSED 

I should probably start packing my bag, since it's still sitting on the floor with only two pairs of heels in it and no clothes whatsoever.   Hmmm... what does one even wear in Vegas????  The temp is going to be so far removed from NYC I'm not sure how to make that transition.  What do people where out in Vegas?  The last time I was there, I was only 20 and was with my family so I wasn't doing the adult circuit if you know what I'm saying... hahaha.  This time we have plans to go out,  relax, do the hotel tours, and possibly meet up with this dude who used to run one of the Friday parties at HLB.   Should be a good time ;)   Either way, I plan on pacing myself so I can thoroughly enjoy my short stay there.  I wouldn't want to be hungover to the point of incapacitation since I only have two days.  However, it is the prequel to my impending birthday... ;)  Nah... I don't need to deal with another hangover so soon after my three-bottles-of-wine "wine night" last weekend.  I think that hangover put me off drinking on an empty stomach for the rest of my life, or drinking at all... ew. 

"Ugh, Dahhhling, I have such a headache, would you PLEASE be a doll and bring me an advil"  (said in manner of Macaulay Culkin in Party Monster)- that's the name of the pose I'm striking below in this God-awful selfie...'selfie,' what a strange word... what a strange society we live in....

I bought a new swimsuit with the victoria's secret gift card I received for Christmas, however, I much prefer this one, which was a charity donation from my sister... LOL.  My sister gives the best charity to me (yes, I am a charity case... and Yes, my sister always has the best clothes to hand down to me...) 

This is the suit I bought from Victoria's Secret which I am convinced makes me look like a man, now that I see myself in a photograph.  It makes my chest look like Hayden Panetierre's pre-implants... and it makes my torso look incredibly short, which is strange since it isn't... 

In other superficial and irrelevant news, my acne is almost 100% gone.  Thank God and modern medicine for the miracles bestowed upon my skin.  It only took three long ass months for this shit to finally kick in.  I had an initial break out which legitimately almost sent me over the edge... and don't judge unless you've suffered from cystic acne, because let me tell you- it's debilitating to have something you can't control all over your face... especially when you're going on interviews and trying to make an impression to get a new job.  I am so grateful this stuff kicked in when it did, because I was at my wit's end and about to go on Accutane. 

Well, I guess it's time for me to get' packin', literally and figuratively hahahah.  I'm so clever :p  Not really.  All I really want for my birthday is a new job, so if there are any secret admirers out there reading this, or just someone who is really stumped about what I want, there is your answer ;) I would take a new job over shoes, vacations, and other material possessions ANY DAY.  

Aren't you really so tired of me bitching about finding a job at this point?  I am so tired about writing about my job-searching chronicles... This blog is truly a superficial POS. 

Coming Out

You may be wondering about the title of this blog... more on that after a brief recap of the last few weeks...

Another year has come and gone.  2015 will be the year I get a new job, and the year I take more trips, have more fun, and have less meltdowns/mental breakdowns/psychotic episodes/wild nights I can't even remember/blackouts/and fights I started drunk.  Good goals, right? I think so ;)  2014 was an amazing year despite all of the meltdowns/mental breakdowns/psychotic episodes/wild nights I can't even remember/blackouts/and arguments I started drunk, regardless.  It was a year of fun and trying new things, making new friends and strengthening relationships with some existing friends, taking mini trips with my boyfriend and friends, concerts (Trentemoller, Nine Inch Nails/Soundgarden), awesome dinners both in and out, watching my niece grow into a wild, smart, and sassy two-year-old, spending a lot of amazing time with my bf, and wild nights I will never forget (except the ones where I did in fact black-out, but we don't consider those awesome... ;) ).

I had to show my boyfriend the pride of Sidney, NY-  The Community (or Scummunity, as most like to call it).  Yes, this is definitely the FINEST, classiest bar in the area.  We stopped in for a drink with my brother and cousin on Christmas Eve and my mind was blown when a glass of wine and a Heineken came to $8.  GOD BLESS UPSTATE. 

Ceely (aka 'Baby') squirrel watching.  I wish I could have stayed home for a solid week...

Bijou, the best son any woman could ever ask for ;)

Christmas was short-lived but good- I ended up going to my parent's house for all of 36 hours or so, but I got to see my mom's side of the family, spend quality time with Bijou and Ceely, and hung out with my brother and cousin (whom I need to see more often because I desperately miss hanging out with them, even if they don't miss hanging out with my annoying self ).  New Year's was also pretty fun, although a bit short lived since I ended up spending only two hours at Output after spending a shit-ton of money on a ticket for a party that lasted 72-hours (that's right ladies and gentleman- the party went until 8pm on January 2).  I spent NYE with friends and even managed not to get shit-faced.  I surprisingly woke up hang-over free.  I'm really proud of myself ;)  If you will recall, last year I ended up almost getting crushed to death while hostessing at Highline, getting shit-faced on the job to cope with the crowd, threatening to kill a bitch, dancing on a stage and pouring a bottle of Patron into my friend's mouth, harassing the DJ to play a remix of Lana Del Rey's "Blue Jeans" and then proceeded to wake up dazed and confused at my friend's apartment in Tribeca.  I walked out of her apartment still drunk and without my shoes and almost made it to the lobby before having a moment of clarity wherein I realized I wasn't wearing shoes.  I then couldn't remember which apartment was hers, and after two failed attempts by my boyfriend and the doorman to find me a car service, ended up hailing a cab in my bare feet in the 9 degree weather.  I'm still surprised my boyfriend stayed with me after that 'episode' ;)


Now, about the title of this blog.  No, I'm not coming out of the closet...I'm coming out of the dark about my struggle with acne these past few months because I feel that it's an issue for a lot of women no matter what age they are.  I never had acne growing up or even as a teenager (which is when most people get it), but for some reason, after I moved to the city at the end of 2012, I started breaking out.  I'm not sure if it's because of stress (actually, it's DEFINITELY stress- I'm always fucking stressed, who am I kidding????), city dirt (let's face it- NYC is filthy), or no sleep and a poor diet (also guilty...).   It affected my already-fragile self-esteem instantly, so I went straight to the dermatologist and demanded a fix.  They put me on an antibiotic (Doxycycline) along with two topical creams which worked after a few weeks and the cysts went away.  I went off the meds after about three months, because my acne had cleared up and the pills made me feel like shit- they made my head hurt in the WORST way, and they also made me feel nauseous for about two hours after I would take them.  I was acne-free, apart from the occasional zit here or there during "that time of the month." But everyone gets those, so it really wasn't a biggie.

And then this happened: 

Please excuse my cracked-out/chapped lips...   Take note of the left side of my face and the cleft distortion on my chin.  And this is what my face looked like with a shit-ton of makeup caked on, so you can only imagine without... :-(  

About three months ago, I started to get these HUGE, underground cysts (that's how I like to refer to them since they never come to a head) only around my chin.  The first one appeared just on one side of my cleft chin and distorted the cleft so much that my chin looked huge- like Jay Leno, basically.  It was painful as fuck and I kept putting this topical cream, Aczone, on it, but nothing happened.  Then, I started getting more of those cysts... all of which were on my chin/jawline.  I wanted to die (maybe I'm dramatic, but when you're ego is as fragile as mine and you're constantly looking for a new job and on going on interviews, you want to look good and feel good about yourself... zits that distort your entire face and are literally painful do NOT help you achieve either).  I finally made a dermatologist appointment last month after the zits didn't go away.  I described everything to the doctor and he said the acne was hormonal and most certainly triggered by stress (since people release hormones that contribute to acne under stress).  The doctor put me on this new pill that is meant to lower high-blood pressure, however, it has proven results at treating hormonal acne.

After almost three weeks of 100mg of this shit a day, I can say that the zits are finally going away... THANK GOD ( and science too ;)  ).  Seriously though... I cried a couple of times because of the combination of physical and emotional pain.  Acne is triggered by stress, but my stress level sky-rockets even more when the acne flares up.  I think my next prescription should be xanax.  For real though, I don't know a better candidate and I'm sure anyone who is reading this that knows me will agree...  Additionaly, the cysts just couldn't be covered up by ANY makeup, because they were basically mountains on my face.  Do you know how difficult it is to put your best face forward at an interview when you're chin is distorted?! I mean, clearly there are people out there who have it far worse or facial deformities, etc. etc., however, I would never wish acne on anyone... and I hope everyone who has it has access to insurance and a good dermatologist who will help them out.

The other benefits of this drug is that it reduces water retention and makes a lot of first time users lose weight... awesome ;)   this is TMI, but I didn't even get bloated this month ;) SCORE!!!!!!  The way things are going, I should be completely acne free in the next couple of weeks (knock on wood).

The year is off to a good start- acne is going bye-bye, I'm going to Vegas for my B-day in February, I've already had one interview, and I just purchased a sweet little bikini from Victoria's Secret (pics to follow in my next blog... you know how I do around here!!!!).   ;) we like to keep it sexy ;)

All I Want for Christmas...

All I want for Christmas is a new job.   That's all I've wanted for the past three Christmas's that I've spent in New York.  I guess it's a lot to ask for and that's why I am still where I am despite daily online job searches, countless interviews, numerous revisions to my resume, and a number of friends and family stepping in with suggestions or possible job leads.  I'm starting to think I am cursed. Do I have something wrong with me that renders me un-hirable? I must... I really must.  But I don't know what it is.... maybe it's the cystic acne on my chin that has only gotten worse in the past three months that I've been stressed out.  I have taken a very proactive approach to my job search.  I am personable and feel like I look presentable at interviews.  I have a decent amount of experience.  I'm smart, I'm creative, I'm talented... do I have some physical deformity that everyone can see but myself? Maybe that's why I am not getting hired.

Am I going to be 30 years old and still a retail manager?  Not if I can help it.  I will probably end my life before it gets to that point.  I'd rather be a stripper before it gets to that point because at least then I'd have some cash to show for it.  Besides, the company I work for will fire me before I get old and unattractive since I will no longer fit their "look policy." I hope that my next job doesn't make me hire people on a basis of how they look... I feel so immoral and unethical every day of my life.

According to my mother, this blog and my social media presence is the reason I am not getting hired.  That makes absolutely no sense though seeing as how this blog isn't even searchable under my real name and seeing as how the only way anyone can access or even know about it is if I provide a direct link.  Also, aside from some selfies and the occasional F-bomb, I'm not sure why this blog would dissuade anyone from hiring me.  I'm not a racist, I'm not a bigot, I'm not talking about my sex life, I'm not talking about drug use, I'm not posting nude photos, I'm not a prostitute, I'm not a stripper... I'm just me.  I'm not applying for a job in a lawyers office or even a doctor's office.  I'm not running for a political position, applying for a government or military position, or even applying for a job at a stuffy corporate office.  So regardless of whether or not a potential employer ever even did stumble upon this blog, there is no reason evident here as to why I should not be hired or employed.  I even did a google search of myself and like nothing comes up.  No racy photos, no nothing.  My mother's paranoia is rubbing off on me though and I'm starting to doubt everything.

Everyone I know under the age of 30 posts far worse material than me on very public social media sites.  At least I don't post political propaganda, photos of myself in lingerie or pasties (half the women living in the city seem to have photos like this), comments about my sex life, photos of my lover in bed with me, or photos of bongs and weed like half the people I am friends with on facebook do.  My facebook profile is private.  I seriously don't know where my mom gets off saying that.  Furthermore, I would hope anyone reading this blog is more apt to relate to me than anything else.  I'm not a boring, drone with a boring life.  I'm sorry I'm a real person with a real life and a real personality.  If that dissuades people from hiring me than great- they're probably not the people I want to be working with.

I'm a hard worker, punctual, diligent, amicable, I work hard, I don't slack off or call out unless I am truly sick.  I have great references, my co-workers and employees respect me.  I don't get it.  I just don't know anymore.  Maybe I should be a boring person with no life, no color, no personality, just facts on paper.  I'm so frustrated.  Seriously.  Two years I've been looking to get out of retail and I'm still a slave to it.  I would almost rather be a server with no health benefits right now, because If I'm going to continue working at a job that doesn't creatively or intellectually stimulate or challenge me, I might as well be making more money and have more flexible hours doing so.

Maybe I'm ugly.  That must be it.  I must be really ugly.

Oh well, I had a dermatology appointment today and am going back on a brand new medication that not only cures acne, but is also a diuretic so hopefully my chin will clear up and I'll be looking super thin.  Awesome.

My boyfriend and I celebrated Christmas pre-maturely and unwrapped each others gifts the other night. I am the proud owner of some awesome new shoes.  Sigh.  If only I could have unwrapped a new job offer....

My new kicks :) :D :D :D  Yes, I'm that girl posting bragging photos of my new shoes.  Go ahead and talk shit about it. I would do the same... 

Is this photo too sexy? At least I don't have fake boobs or am displaying them in a push up bra like 80% of the other girls I know or walking around in a corset and latex booty shorts and posting the photos on my instagram account...  Sorry if this photo is offending anyone... I know it's super vulgar. 

Cheese... my only salvation in these darkest and most uncertain of days.... also probably one of the main sources of the cystic acne on my chin.  Oh well. 

I had a good title... But now I forget

Writing this blog in bed, because I don't have work until 3pm.  Score.  I think I have finally caught up on sleep from last week (wait, did Thanksgiving even happen? NOT FOR ME!!!!), and my sleepless Saturday spent at Output (jealous? You should be).  I am now fully gearing up for Christmas. I have to do all of my Christmas shopping, but I'm off Friday and next Monday so I am thinking I'll do most of it online from the comfort of my apartment since that seems to be the best way to find what you're actually looking for.  I found my NYE dress but still don't have plans. Either way, and regardless of where I end up or don't end up, at least I'll be looking sexy (or as sexy as a homely bitch such as myself can hope to look... sigh).  I will post some slutty selfies for your viewing pleasure upon my dress's arrival. I can't wait. Nothing makes a shitty work day at the job I LOVE better than coming home to a package :) ;)

I have a new social experiment going on in the form of a personal Instagram account. I avoided getting Instagram literally for the past two year because of my narcissistic ways. I knew an account that's all about posting photos of yourself and your life would not be good for a person such as myself, which is why I use this blog instead (I can post whatever I want here and no one even reads it... it's basically the same as posting to a diary, except I save that shit for my book).  However, after making an Instagram account for the theatre company I'm doing social media for, I quickly discovered how Instagram works. Basically, it's a way for bitches to brag, boast, show off their asses and their fake tits, let the world know they go to the gym every day by posting the same fucking selfie of their goddamn abs on a twice daily basis, and showing off the material splendors and paid for vacations they get by the dudes they're fucking (I'm now fully convinced this girl I know is an escort... like for real).

I decided to make a "mock" Instagram where I will post my own slutty-selfies (kissy-faces and ab shots required), and stupid aspects of daily life that don't mean anything to me I'm reality, but are in fact everything in the fake world of social media.  All of my hashtags (#) are a joke or mocking the shit that people actually tag their photos as because shit is usually ridiculous. I'm trying to see how many random likes and followers I can get just by coming across as one of the masses.  So far, I have gathered the people with the most followers are the people whom photoshop/filter the shit out of their photos, have lip injections and/or breast implants, love posting photos of high-end dinners, places, clubs, and material items, and seem fake as fuck.  I am going to follow through with this experience to see if any personal gratification or benefits come from this.  I am giving myself one year.

I you are interested in following or checking it out, my name is lilywhitedaydream.  Please once again note that my hashtags are obnoxious and self-centered on purpose and do not actually represent my views or my actual state of being and take on what is important in life.

Requisite "kissy" face.  Go kill yourself... #kisskiss #basicbitch #oneofthosegirls

#thighgap #idontworkout #Jeffries #emo #myspaceangle

#DSLs #nofiller #allnatural #kyliejenner #MACcosmetics #fuckyouslutswithlipinjections