Rebecca feels terrible. She has a bad case of acne and feels she’s overweight. And for an early teen girl, these are crises of the same magnitude Russia invading Israel or vice versa. Her moaning and sudden bouts of crying are second only to Job’s, assuming he’d actually taken to railing at God for his myriad misfortunes.
For those who don’t follow CNN, Fox, or current events in general, Rebecca is my daughter, or maybe she isn’t since all these body issues have made her officially disown herself from “belonging” to anyone.
I’ve tried to console her by saying I was a skinny boy with stay-put pimples, acne, a buck tooth that wasn’t corrected until my twenties, and a weirdly shaped cone head that made most everyone call me Mars. And it wasn’t said lovingly. One time, a group of bullies parked me in a school-hall corner and demanded I tell them how to say “I’m an asshole” in Martian. I fell short, and they howled. Oh, memories.
But none of this seems to get through to my daughter, who tells me I’m still a Martian and to please leave her alone, she has wailing to do.
One time, a group of bullies parked me in a school-hall corner and demanded I tell them how to say “I’m an asshole” in Martian. I fell short, and they howled.
The one upside to this is that she isn’t being bullied. She’s apparently one of several dozen teens in her very big school who also have acne and too much weight. It’s as if someone beamed them down to form a Third Column or march on Fresno (not far) to demand the state legislature ban skin conditions, or maybe abolish adolescent years.
The only thing that scares me in all this isn’t how much it reminds me of once being a teen Martian with a buck tooth, but what Rebecca has concocted to remedy her situation.
After listening to lots of podcasts on how to slay acne, she (and friends) found a balm endearingly called “Kill it Dead,” which, using all kinds of weird herbs (and maybe spices), promises to rid the user of acne in three months. I only learned about “Kill it Dead” when Rebecca began smelling strangely of cinnamon buns, the kind I snarfed down in my youth but these days need to stay away from to keep my own weight under control.
When I asked Rebecca what was up with the smell, she answered “nothing,” which might also be a brand name. I finally got the truth out of her, looked it up, and all in all it seemed harmless enough. Except that it made me want to eat my daughter’s head for breakfast.
I told her this, but she didn’t laugh. Never try humor when acne’s in the picture.
Bottom line, I’ve been living with “Kill it Dead” for a month now, and while I’d like to say all the weird herbs and spices are eating the acne for breakfast, I can’t. But I don’t say a word. I value my life.
If only it ended there, but it doesn’t, not when a teen’s waist weight is factored in.
For this condition, which Becca considers all but fate, there’s another remedy, this one discovered in that most authoritative of medical journals, otherwise known as Instagram.
And what is this drop-dead antidote called?
Wait for it . . .
“Animal Cuts.”
No, Becca doesn’t get up and munch on baby-calf bones.
There’s another remedy, this one discovered in that most authoritative of medical journals, otherwise known as Instagram.
This remedy consists of a satchel of pills you take in the morning and digest throughout the day. The goal is to suppress appetite, never mind that the name suggests big-game hunting in the Kalahari. When she first told me what she was taking, I imagined leopards and gazelles on a cartoon holiday.
Do I like that my daughter is snacking on strange-colored pills? No. Do I think I could make her stop by asking her to stop? No again.
This means Dear Old Dad just grins and bears it. After all, I once tried pulling out my buck tooth with a coil I broke off of a mousetrap. If boys will be boys, girls will be girls, and this is, after all, the twenty plus one century. First, Kill it Dead, then Animal Cuts. After which time, you check with your neighborhood podcast or your favorite Instagrammer.
Who knows where this will lead? Same with when it will end. To me, my daughter looks just fine. She’s a delight in every way. And she’s the only daughter I’ve ever had who makes me want to eat her head.
