Sweet Sweet Release: Ode to the Zits of Instagram

Oh, how they pop!

How they ooze…

How the more special ones pop, then ooze.

Or, when you’re lucky lucky, like $20 in the dryer lucky, and swipe up and stop on a promising, virginal video. One you have never. Seen. Before!

Lil Nas X’s Montero (Call Me by Your Name) plays over visuals of clear skin and one big, gnarly blackhead. Gloved hands squeeze the dense, hard mound. (Or, they find it buried beneath the skin… Surprise!)

Bated breath, firmly held. Oh, sweet agony!

To no avail.

The petrified collection of dried sebum and dead skin cells resists the wide-eyed pleasure… sorry, pressure from lusty finger tips.

What’s this? A tool?!

The agony in my loins as the pointed metal poker pricks the hard, armored surface of that filled pore…

Jab. Pull. JAB. Puuuuuuull… SQUEEZEPOP!


*wipe wipe*


Oh, how I love to watch those clogged pores plick!

All over the bathroom mirror! Ewww.

Someone off camera got a load in the eye.

*shocked emoji* Gross, man…

White and black and grey and brown — when they burst with all that gore, I like to imagine those popping pores making a sound!

Swipe swipe swipe, 10 minutes or two hours… I sometimes watch at half mast!

Swipe, What’s this?

No!Not a hangnail extraction of the big toe! Yuck.

What algorithm thought I’d want to flit between pus and toes? Alas, it’s a mystery only intrepid programmers know.

Mmm… Perhaps it won’t hurt to take a peak and swoon as impacted nails are cut, coaxed, and tugged out of tight warm lateral folds on the human toe.

Just look at the way those fingers dance round the lateral and proximal nail folds! Cut cut cut, those cuticles clean — a full lunula; it totally glows!

I’m so naughty. Multiple fetishes — lovers on tethers.

An orgy of integumentary system phenomena exposed! Saweetie tells me to Tap In as faceless fingers work 1.5x speed.

The finished product makes me explode!

As the sun sets on another stressful pandemic day (basically a Tuesday), I surreptitiously inch my laptop and phone together — stress vacates my body like a plucked ingrown hair that’s been waiting for two years. A ménage à trois of pimples, toes, and me!

For the last 8 years, Matt has been a parent and horrible homemaker. He’s also a freelance writer with bylines in Points in Case, LOL Comedy, and even one in The Weekly Humorist, among others. You can find his more serious writing at The Southwester. At this point, he’s come to understand that the rest of his life will be about losing battles. Find him on Twitter: @MattJKoe

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