69, but still a teen

I’m 69 years old but still occasionally find a pimple on the end of my nose.
A pimple!
“What is this?” I ask myself in the mirror. “Prom day?”
I long ago lost my hair, lost my waistline, lost my muscle tone, lost an inch or two of height. But the potential for my complexion to erupt in an unsightly red bump? That I’ve retained.
And it’s embarrassing.
A few year ago I noticed a real beauty first thing in the morning and spent the entire day self-conscious. Late that afternoon, I met a potential student at the college. She was what we call a non-traditional student, an older person, perhaps in her 30s, contemplating a return to school. It was my job to counsel her.
All the while, I kept thinking, “I bet all she sees is that blasted pimple.”
I couldn’t help but wonder how noticeable it was and discovered that if I tried hard, I could actually see it sitting there on the tip of my schnoz. It was out of focus, rather blurry actually, but I could still detect it. “Yep,” I’d say to myself, “it’s still there,” and then angle my eye to see it again. And again. Still there. Still there.
If it wasn’t all she was seeing, it was certainly all I was seeing.
Driving home later it dawned on me the woman probably left thinking, “That poor man. Not only did he have a big, red pimple on his nose, but he’s cross-eyed too.”

Ed Ackerman