Essay about A Speech On Skin Picking Disorder
I used to love popping zits.
There were days where all I could do was stand in front of my bathroom mirror and pop what pimples dared to show on my skin. The problem was, as far as my face goes, I have almost none there. But when it came to my body, there were quite a few problem areas I could attack. Hey, when you’re desperate, you’re desperate. Honestly, looking back now, it was a compulsion, not a hobby. Dermatillomania. Skin-picking disorder.
/My friends were into it, too. We used to share videos on the internet, really fucked up pictures and shows of people popping huge cysts.
I know it’s fucked up. But humans are naturally curious and drawn to disgusting things. Why do you think horror exists? And I’m human, at least, I’m fairly certain I am. You can’t sit there and say you’ve never looked up something weird on a whim. It would be a lie, right? But I digress.
One of my favorite places to pop pimples was my back. Sometimes, I would have really pressurized zits pop up and it would feel so fantastic to hear and feel the “pop” of success. I wouldn’t even need a mirror – even though seeing it would have been great – just the sound and sensation was enough for me. My other favorite place was my pubic mound. Being a female and having to endure the harsh criticism of society as far…