Skin - my love/hate relationship

Loathsome, hateful blemishes.

I refuse to call a facial blemish anything else, as the alternative names make me feel a bit queasy and very unladylike. During Southern Belle Training 101, my Grandmother Charlene (she insisted on the title Grandmother, as Grandma was too pedestrian for her), taught me a few life lessons when I was four years old.

As I sat on the sofa (NOT a couch), with my ankles crossed (NOT my knees) and learned to knit (so Grandmother could impress her sewing circle with how advanced her granddaughter was), I distinctly remember her telling me about adolescence and facing such issues as "blemishes." I think she wanted to start this conversation early with me, since she had suffered severely as a teenage girl.

Which brings me to the topic of skin. I can really only think of two points recommending skin:

1. We need skin to regulate/protect other organs, muscles and bones.
2. Skin's healing process is fascinating; the way it knits itself together after an injury.

The bad and the ugly of skin;

1. Blemishes. Obviously!
2. Aging, thin, veiny skin - one can SEE blue-ish veins underneath my translucent exterior.
3. The inordinate amount of money needed to maintain said aging skin; body wash which doesn't irritate the skin, lotion to keep it from drying out, specific facial wash, toner, treatment and moisturizer to keep that temperamental face glowing.
4. Skin color still leads to assumptions and prejudices.
5. A day at the beach means lathering on sunscreen, theoretically every 30 minutes!
6. When I stress out(often) my body exacts it's revenge through my skin.

At the end of the day, I just really, really hate blemishes.