Pimples (Iconoclastic)

Pimples. My nemesis.
They ruin every day of my life by attaching themselves to my (already) pizza-crusted face. The disgusting, enormous, yellow, squelchy mountain of hell lying within my soft skin - as if these mountains of ooze have set up camp and refuse to move. This most unappealing and totally grotesque descriptor comes to mind when I glance in the mirror and…oh, hey.
Pimples, pimples they annihilate any sense of self-respect I possess! You may be thinking why don't I just get rid of it? Well, it's not easy because they migrate all over your body like some traveller on a holiday. First you have one, and then you have a million. They multiply. They duplicate. They double-up. The process just continues on and on.
There was a moment when I was in school and my friend started to stare at me. Worriedly, I began to think I had become some type of a ludicrous, inexplicable, gruesome monster who just ran out of a laboratory; so, concerned, I pulled out my mirror and…there…it…was.
There, in front of my eyes, was the most gargantuan pimple ever so be placed on this planet. Bulging with pus and toxins, this monstrosity scarred by entire façade. There is was. There…it…was.
Then you realize life just has begun.
The thing is, I'm sure my dearest mother (and all family members of my nearest and dearest) would still love me and call me 'beautiful'. However, let’s face it – they would be staring at me, chatting away about my inner beauty (ha!) and focusing solely (as if they had been hypnotised) upon my gigantic, fleshy facial obstruction. There we go. They chat about my beauty…and then race to their phones, to WhatsApp my mishap.
That’s the fact of things.
Admit it. I'm pretty determined that you've had this situation before. We all have. However, the most annoying thing is that although people claim to find spots erupting upon their faces every second of the day, I never actually see them. Like, where are they?
There is nothing...