When I woke up Friday morning, I was pretty sure that my nose was either broken or seriously injured. I couldn’t even touch my nose without excruciating pain and it was spreading across my face.

I just figured that E. must have head-butted me again during the night (Thursday was another one of those nights). I kept checking my nose, though, and no bruise was appearing. By Friday night, I started to have a new suspicion. I felt along the bridge of my nose, and there it was — a teeny, tiny little bump. No, this couldn’t be what was causing me this much pain. But it was. The mother of all zits was gaining strength by the hour.

Throughout the weekend, I kept watching that sucker grow and grow. And the pain across the my face kept growing and growing too. By today, no amount of concealer was hiding it. It was even noticeable to a 2 1/2 year old.

At dinner tonight, E. stares at me for a moment, then finally says, “Mommy, your nose is red. Did an ant bite you?”

I’m not quite sure where this giant biting ant is but he’s responsible for EVERY bump, scratch and boo-boo in our house lately. He’s one bad-ass ant.

After I was humiliated by my toddler, I did what any self-respecting teenager 30-something woman with sudden pore issues would do: I ran to the bathroom and popped that sucker. Hey, I figured if I survived my actual teenage years without those rumored scars from zit-popping I was in the clear.

I’ll let you know how that worked out for me in a few days after I stop looking like this:

In the meantime, I’ll tell you that popping it wasn’t as satisfying as it once was. Maybe I’m just out of practice, but no amount of squeezing could extract the heart of the beast. And now my nose still hurts and instead of just having a red nose, I also have a giant hole in my nose.

Good times.