ode to a chin zit

Zit oh zit upon my chin
A battle I can never win
You will never go away
I can wash my face all day.

At first you lurk upon my chin
Then: a head. Just like a pin.
Small and hard, I pick at you
Until you bleed. Sexy! Woo!

You are made of grease and oil
You nasty, gross and ugly boil
I want to pop your nasty head
I want to pop it till its dead.

I think I’ll go and do that now.
My mirror better watch out. Yow!


Now. You might be wondering what could possibly be better than a poem entirely devoted to a chin zit. Well, I have your answer: a SONG entirely devoted to a chin zit! The talented and sexy duo The Foxy Pockets have deemed my poetry worthy of being put to music, and I couldn’t be more delighted. Check it out for yourself! Then head over to the blog from which The Foxy Pockets sprung and read it obsessively until you forget what day it even is. It’s that good.

If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.


Photo credits:
Author: Antonio del Pollaiolo (1431–1498). Description: Profile of a Woman. Source/Photographer: Corel Professional Photos CD-ROM. This is a faithful photographic reproduction of a two-dimensional, public domain work of art. The work of art itself is in the public domain. — Modified

24 Replies to “ode to a chin zit”

    1. “Until I reach the bone” LMAO

      Now I want to go find one of those Walking Dead pictures where the zombie has most of its face but the whole bottom around the mouth and chin is gone and it’s just teeth and bones.

  1. I have 99% flawless skin, and am not afraid to say it, HOWEVER, there is 1 zit that rears its ugly head in the same place every few months and it is huge and red and mean. I totally relate to the single zit of evil.

  2. In the last few years, my chosen spot zone is on my neck just under my jaw line. Close enough to my face to be visible but awkwardly placed enough that they’re really hard to squash.

  3. Cystic acne is the worst. My sister and I called those honking buggers ‘undergrounders’ because they never came up to a head. Finally, in my 30s I went to a dermatologist and he Rxed me Retin-A. The Fountain of Youth in a tube. And it cleared up all the filthy zit zones. Of course now that I am in my 50s I need to get some refills because zits at 50 is just fucking wrong.

  4. Ahhhhrgh. This is funny but also tragic.
    My mother taught me to “draw these out” with VERY hot water. But sometimes I want to ignite them with a VERY hot match…

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