I bought myself a fancy new gel moisturizer yesterday, from Kiehls, which is supposed to be the best stuff on earth for people with problem skin. In the world of sensitive complexions, my skin is the one sobbing and choking on her own snot in the corner when she thinks someone might have possible looked at her the wrong way (three days ago). In a classroom room full of teenagers, I’m the one with the angriest skin, and that’s not right at all.  I tried a sample of this stuff a couple weeks ago and did the test on my arm, and there was no reaction.

My hopes were high for this posh little jar, which cost more than I’ve ever spent on a moisturizer. In my eyes, something that made so many promises, basically one per dollar, had to be excellent, right? I looked forward to my baby-soft new skin. For once, I was going to have the complexion I dreamed of.

After my shower this morning, I washed my hands again before dipping my fingertips into the little jar of skin goop, ensuring I wouldn’t contaminate my new moisturizer with any bacteria that latched onto me in the thirty eight seconds since I climbed out of the shower. Then I patted the moisturizer on like a woman in a cosmetics commercial on tv, and went about my morning.

A few minutes later, I was hot, like pouring sweat and panting hot. I checked the thermostat, which was right were I left it. I took off my socks. Still, my body temperature seemed to rocket skyward, and I felt sweat beading up on my upper lip. Then Sherman tried to steal the cat’s breakfast (again) and I called him on it. As soon as I tried to speak, I realized my mouth’s mobility was impeded by the stiffness of my face. More alarmingly, my skin hurt when I spoke. It actually started to feel like sunburn. Tragic sunburn.

I dashed to the bathroom, a very short sprint in the dollhouse, and my jaw fell (painfully) open when I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was red with purple blotches. My skin was swelling like a hotdog left on “high” just a little too long in the microwave. I was a hot mess: a damn hot mess. There was a white oblong around my mouth where I didn’t apply the cream, and a white circle around each eye socket. Now you know why the jar always says to avoid the eye area. You’re welcome. The kicker was my neck, where I had red fingermarks from patting the last skiff of the moisturizer onto my throat to prevent eventual turkey neck and avoid wasting any of my fancy face paste.

I washed my face immediately, but the damage was done. I went to school today in my almost a month since Halloween costume: I was the famed and elusive prairie lobster.

Yes, my skin still hurts. Bah!

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