I have zits. Tomorrow, I'll be sixty, and I have zits.
I've got used to my face. I deserve all the wrinkles--raising three kids and spending a lot of time in the sun, without sunglasses...well, the results are not pretty. I have even grown accustomed to the fact that my eyebrows seem to interpret a decrease in estrogen as an open invitation to spread out all over my face.
I have learned to cope with the spare hairs that have to be tweezed (twoze?) (twizzen?) from my chin, and the incipient mustache.
I am resigned to the conditions of age; why do I have to put up with zits as well?