I can count on one hand the number of people who know how deep into this disorder I am — and I've learned not to talk about it. Because when you tell people you pick, you get one of two responses: "Oh, me too, I can't resist popping pimples!" Or, "You just have to not do it. Force yourself to stop." Which is usually where the conversation ends, because this has never been about acne or free will. That, and it's pretty socially awkward to counter with "No, as in, I sit in my bathroom for hours on end digging into my body, going after tiny specks that could maybe, one day, weeks from now, be hairs, with sharp tools until I bleed, scab, and scar. And then I do it all over again. By the way, how's your salad?"