An old, not particularly flattering picture, probably taken during the last month or two of 1989, or the first month or two of 1990. I'm sure this was after a Beck's or two or five.
I've included it for a couple of reasons: first, I need a haircut in the worst way. Second, it's probably the last picture on record where I've got any kind of acne. It's not like my face was ever cratered, but a zit or two, here or there, were one of those steady facial accessories of my teen years (and even into my twenties).
Sometime during the summer I realized that my face had never been smoother. Chemotherapy and complete hair loss (no shaving!) had something to do with that. A few months of antibiotics, though, meant no more pimples, either. Excellent.
You won't find me recommending chemotherapy and antibiotics as a form of acne treatment, but at the same time, I'm not about to complain about a little silver lining.