benzoyl peroxide and the infinite sadness

when i was about twenty-one years old, i took advantage of an opportunity to meet with german supermodel claudia schiffer at an autograph-signing session inside the eaton centre. i think she was in town that summer to promote a new cosmetic product or something. needless to say, i had been dreaming about my rendezvous with ms schiffer for weeks and weeks prior to my eventual run-in with her that day at the iconic mall. little miss s was certainly at the top of her game in those days and was very much a "celebrity" in the same way that we view musicians or actors as celebrities today. and yet, the thing i remember most about my fifteen minutes of fame with ms "she's-all-that" is not her beauty or her charm or her wit, all of which she possessed in droves, i might add. no, the thing i remember most about my encounter that afternoon with modelling royalty is her skin. yes, that's right... her skin. back in the day, claudia (notice how we're on a first name basis all of a sudden) had been renowned for her immaculate, porcelain-like, alabaster skin tone. but on the day of our first (and last) tete a tete, my dream date appeared decidedly human and flawed. the reason? her skin was absolutely crawling with unsightly blemishes and pockmarks. it was as if my finely-crafted, hermetically-sealed world had come crashing down around me. this was perfection? in the light of day, my teutonic heartbreaker was nothing like i had imagined she would be. in fact, she was... well, she was just like me. (alright, she was blonde and beautiful and graceful and dignified and i was none of those things, but still, you get my point.)

and the reason for tonight's pathetic, twisted stroll down memory lane? well, earlier this evening when i barged through the front door following softball practice, i instinctively gazed into the mirror (how you doin'?) and lo and behold, what did i spy but none other than a zit. right there on my mug and everything. and not an insignificant zit at that. wth? do my eyes deceive me? i'm --------. i don't get zits. at least not in this lifetime. at least not since i remember what a bottle of clearasil looked like.

and so i was immediately reminded of my little pas de deux at the mall with one claudia schiffer way back when. because just as i experienced that fateful day some twenty years past, you never know what the gods of vanity are gonna throw your way. one moment you might be on top of the superficial universe and the next, you're looking for a way to explain to your seven-year-old why you're wearing a band-aid across your cheek.

for the third time since last september i am now hooked on one of your morning power trips: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVpv8-5XWOI

and this is the number pm is probably referring to in the chorus: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNKbHJ3PTu4

p.s. about three years following my little get-together with ms schiffer, i had the good fortune of participating in a face-to-face with claudia's american counterpart, the legendary christy turlington, sans make-up. flawless.