Every year around my birthday, I have some aging mishap or another.

When I turned 25, I got my very first cavity ever.
When I turned 26, I had to start wearing reading glasses.
When I turned 27, I developed a huge, permanent wrinkle on my forehead, which I call THE CREVICE.
When I turned 28, I noticed that I had two matching spider veins on the sides of my thighs. Which are there to stay.
When I turned 29, I realized that after years of coloring my hair for fun, I now actually need to color my hair FOR REAL. I went from having twelve grey hairs to having 2,548 grey hairs OVERNIGHT.

And when I turned 30, I was diagnosed with rosacea.

For years, I thought it was pronounced "ROSA SEEYA." It's not. It's pronounced "Rose ay Sha" and now it pisses me off when people pronounce it "rosa seeya."

What it is: (from www.rosacea.org): "a chronic, acne-like condition of the facial skin that may affect as many as 13 million Americans. It typically first appears when people reach their 30s and 40s as a flushing or subtle redness on the cheeks, nose, chin or forehead that comes and goes. If left untreated, rosacea tends to worsen over time. As the condition progresses, the redness becomes more persistent, bumps and pimples called papules and pustules appear and small dilated blood vessels may become visible. In some cases the eyes also may be affected, causing them to be irritated and bloodshot. In advanced cases, the nose may become red and swollen from excess tissue--the condition that gave the late comedian W. C. Fields his trademark bulbous nose."

HELP!

So what that boils down to: I have two Raggedy Ann-type red spots on the high parts of my cheeks.
You'd think this would be a good thing, because you'd never have to buy blush again, but really, it doesn't look natural, doesn't look attractive and just doesn't look right. I end up blotting out the uneven color with a specially tinted foundation (with hints of green in it, to offset the redness) and then adding blush anyway. And when I've been drinking any wine or eating anything spicy? I get a big old red tomato face that looks exactly like Tip O'Neill.

There are several possible treatments for rosacea. One is oral tetracycline combined with a topical application of a gel which smells like ass (a.k.a. sulfur-based ointment). The pits about the tetracycline junk is that if you've had dairy, it counteracts the medicine. So I either had to take it 1 hour before I eat or 2 hours after I eat. The problem is that this is a very short window of opportunity. And I like a snack at night of pudding or a glass of milk before bedtime (usually to calm the tummy from an over-adventurous dinner or a glass of wine), so the evening pill was a toughy.

My dermatologist hoped that the tetracycline would bring down the redness in my Raggedy Ann dots and get it "in control." I've never been in control in my whole life...I doubt that some wimpy medicine that can be taken out with a bowl of cottage cheese will somehow bring me IN CONTROL.

The worst part is when he diagnosed me, he kept saying, "It's a textbook case. Textbook!" Go ahead, Dr. Skin, say the word "textbook" one more time. I'll rub my pustules on you. According to their web page, sufferers of rosacea should refrain from hot weather, cold weather, excercise, blushing and hot foods or they'll immediately turn into W.C. Fields.

When I tell people about the rosacea they all say, "I don't see a thing." Bless them. Bless those people and their clear, bright skin.

Truthfully, I think I should get a handicapped parking sticker or something. Also, Dr. Skin recommended that I join the Rosacea Society. Because there's a club for people like me. A CLUB! A society full of rosy faced people with pustules and nodes and bulbous schnozzes.

Next birthday does not bode well. I'm just breathless in anticipation of what is going to break, fail, or fall off as I age. I'm certain that by the age 50, I will just be a torso; just an angry, grey-haired, RED bulbous torso. Named Arlene. With a mustache.

Just call me the red stumpy torso and leave me alone to wallow in my shallowness.