Earlier this year, I self-diagnosed myself with Rosacea. I’m sure when I next go to the doctor, she will confirm my expert diagnosis, because I researched the shite out of my symptoms… and if you saw my face without makeup (sometimes even with), you’d have to agree.
It’s not pretty. When it flares up, I look like a pizza-faced tween. In fact, I originally thought I was suffering from adult acne. But all of the products designed to treat acne burned my skin (more than they should have), made my color an even brighter red, and caused the bumps that I thought were pimples to multiply. Soooo not cool.
In researching this condition, I found that there are certain foods, conditions, and products that can trigger flare-ups. Here are some of those things.
Cheese. Just knowing that makes me want to eat a whole block of sharp cheddar – by itself. I hanker for a hunk of, a satisfying chunk of, I hanker for a hunk of cheese! Stinky!
Chocolate. Huh. Expect a flare up, like, now.
Beer. Sigh. I will forever look like I’m going through puberty.
Spicy foods & vanilla. Is vanilla not the polar opposite of spicy foods… AND chocolate?! WTF?
Sun. Wind. Cold. Humidity. When the fuck is it okay to go outside? And who’s gonna tell my boss I have to work from home now because the outside is bad for me?
Hot baths. So are cold showers okay? Nope. THAT can cause a flare up, too. Of course, not being able to bathe pretty much cements the need to work from home.
Excessivley warm environments. Hello? I live in the deep south!
Stress & anxiety. So much for working from home. Or working period.
MENOPAUSE. Can someone please tell me how to avoid THIS?
You can see
I’m gonna be a whiny little beyotch about this this is going to be a nightmare for me. Sure, it’s not some terminal illness, but, right now, it feels like a too-mah.
That said, there IS a shining beacon of hope in this otherwise dark and dismal time. There is yet one more thing I must avoid in order to limit flare ups. And that thing is… EXERCISE!!
I have a legitimate, medical reason for not working out now! I have a license to be a fatty-fatty-booma-latty! I can be a card-carrying member of the honkey-tonk ba-donka-donk club – guilt free! My face might look like a Santa suit on fire (after all that chocolate I just ate… along with the beer to wash it down), but I feel like I just hit the jackpot.