Confessions of a Picker

I know this sounds gross, but I love to pick things. When I sit still for longer than 2 seconds you can catch me feeling all around my face looking for something to pick. I don't know what it is, but it is just addicting. I think most people in my family are like this too because my mom is always saying that we belong in the monkey family. My dad is always trying to make us stop when he catches us doing it. At least I'm not like Ransom or my mom where they will start popping anybody's pimples, anytime, any place.

Yesterday I decided I should try to break the habit. My scabs always take FOREVER to heal and who wants a bright red spot on their face for a month. I told Ransom he needed to think of some reward that was good enough to make me avoid temptation. He told me that if I can get through Sunday without picking my face that he would take me to Cold Stone. I've stopped myself a few dozen times from picking so I think I'm going to need some kind of miracle. Wish me luck! -Katie