So, an Instagram Ad for a pore vacuum appeared in my feed…eeew gross, right?–What kind of dirty loser needs to vacuum their pores…only the most unfortunate individual, obvi. IG algorithm must have determined that I am the type of person who would use this— Ok, anyhow, I ordered the device and promptly got to working on my face, moments after its arrival. And apparently, if you linger too long in one spot, with the pore vacuum, capillaries will burst and telling hickey marks will be left.
My pre-recovery thinking would have me believing “serves me right” and “best to not tell anyone”– because only a gross person would have or need a pore vacuum and only the truest of fukkups would use it in such a way that hickies and bruises mark their face—-affirming it ALL. Recovery teaches me to feel shame– only for saying or doing knowingly harmful things. Recovery also gives me the gift of amends, when possible. For this though, no shame, no amends. Just a good laugh, a lighter hand, and a lower power mode on the pore vacuum.
I am happy to openly joke about my large dirt-filled pores, all the things I could store in them, and about my first attempt with the June Julien Black Head Remover Instrument–only 27$ on Amazon.com. (What a deal–You know you want one). I cannot recommend, at this time. My unvacuumed pores remain clogged and my facial hickies are slightly darker than the ones in my photo. Maybe I will post an IG story later. Like– an unboxing video/cautionary tale.
