My first earlobe zit, or “poisonous boil” as I referred to at the time, was a major ordeal. For a week, I was convinced that if I even looked in the direction of the swell, it would spew a poisonous stream of venom into my veins that would kill me, or cripple me for life if I was lucky.
But, it’s been a long eight months since that poisonous boil, and somewhere along the line, I came to love these little inner-earlobe zits. Disgusting I know, but as soon as I feel that little round mass starting to grow, my mouth begins to water, literally.
I long for the snap that emits from my lobe when I squeeze that pussing mass. I love to pop those little fuckers so much that I habitually tug and squeeze at my earlobes throughout the day. All day. Every day. At the rate I’m going, and assuming I make it to forty-five, my earlobes will be hanging to my knees.
And as a side note, if after reading about this disgusting compulsion you decide to never visit my blog again, I completely understand.